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diff --git a/22515-h/22515-h.htm b/22515-h/22515-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f50e3e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/22515-h/22515-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,70701 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes I.-VI., by Charles Rogers</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i9 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i13 {display: block; margin-left: 13em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i18 {display: block; margin-left: 18em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + ul.TOC { + list-style-type: none; /* a list with no symbol */ + position: relative; /* makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + margin-right: 5%; /* pulls the page#s in a skosh */ + padding-right: 3em; /* MP stops text hitting numbers */ + margin-left: 1em; /* MP for long titles,indent all lines */ + text-indent: -1em; /* MP for long titles, unindent 1st line */ + } + ul.TOCSub { /* sub-entries in the TOC */ + list-style-type: none; + position: relative; /* makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + margin-right: 10%; /* pulls these page#s in even more */ + padding-right: 3em; /* MP stops text hitting numbers */ + margin-left: 1em; /* MP for long titles,indent all lines */ + text-indent: -1em; /* MP for long titles, unindent 1st line */ + } + span.tocright { /* use absolute positioning to move page# right */ + position: absolute; right: 0; text-indent: 0;/* valign: bottom; */ + } +ul.IX { + list-style-type: none; + font-size:inherit; + } + + </style> + </head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes I-VI.</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volumes I-VI.<br/> + The Songs of Scotland of the Past Half Century</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 5, 2007 [eBook #22515]<br /> +[Most recently updated: July 12, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL ***</div> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOLS. I.-VI.</p> + +<p class='center'>EDINBURGH:<br /> +<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.<br /> +<br /> +M.DCCC.LV.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol1CONTENTS">Contents of Volume I.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol2CONTENTS_II">Contents of Volume II.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol3CONTENTS_III">Contents of Volume III.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol4CONTENTS_IV">Contents of Volume IV.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol5CONTENTS_V">Contents of Volume V.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#vol6CONTENTS_VI">Contents of Volume VI.</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#INDEX">Index of First Lines</a></p> +<p class='center smcap'><a href="#INDEX_OF_AUTHORS">Index of Authors</a></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol1CONTENTS"></a>Volume I.</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_SKINNER">JOHN SKINNER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1TULLOCHGORUM">Tullochgorum,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_11">11</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_O_BADENYON">John o' Badenyon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_EWIE_WI_THE_CROOKIT_HORN">The ewie wi' the crookit horn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1O_WHY_SHOULD_OLD_AGE_SO_MUCH">O! why should old age so much wound us?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1STILL_IN_THE_WRONG">Still in the wrong,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LIZZY_LIBERTY">Lizzy Liberty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_STIPENDLESS_PARSON">The stipendless parson,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_28">28</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_MAN_OF_ROSS">The man of Ross,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_31">31</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1A_SONG_ON_THE_TIMES">A song on the times,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_33">33</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_CAMERON">WILLIAM CAMERON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_35">35</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1AS_OER_THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS_I_HIED">As o'er the Highland hills I hied,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_37">37</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_JOHN_HUNTER">MRS JOHN HUNTER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_39">39</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_INDIAN_DEATH-SONG">The Indian death-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_MOTHER_BIDS_ME_BIND_MY_HAIR">My mother bids me bind my hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4">The flowers of the forest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_42">42</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SEASON_COMES_WHEN_FIRST_WE_MET">The season comes when first we met,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_TUNEFUL_VOICE_I_STILL_DEPLORE">Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM">Dear to my heart as life's warm stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS">The lot of thousands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_45">45</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON">ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_48">48</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON">MRS GRANT OF CARRON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH">Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ROBERT_COUPER_MD">ROBERT COUPER, M.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1KINRARA">Kinrara,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SHEELING">The sheeling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6">The ewe-bughts, Marion,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_56">56</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1LADY_ANNE_BARNARD">LADY ANNE BARNARD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1AULD_ROBIN_GRAY">Auld Robin Gray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_64">64</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1Part_II">" " Part II.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SONG">Why tarries my love?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_68">68</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_TAIT">JOHN TAIT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_70">70</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_BANKS_OF_THE_DEE">The banks of the Dee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_72">72</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1HECTOR_MACNEILL">HECTOR MACNEILL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12">Mary of Castlecary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_82">82</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_BOY_TAMMY13">My boy, Tammy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14">Oh, tell me how for to woo,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LASSIE_WI_THE_GOWDEN_HAIR">Lassie wi' the gowden hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE">Come under my plaidie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_89">89</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15">I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DONALD_AND_FLORA16">Donald and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18">My luve's in Germany,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19">Dinna think, bonnie lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_96">96</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN">MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_99">99</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE">Oh, where, tell me where?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_104">104</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20">Oh, my love, leave me not,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_106">106</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_MAYNE">JOHN MAYNE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_107">107</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1LOGAN_BRAES23">Logan braes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24">Helen of Kirkconnel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG">The winter sat lang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_JOHNNIE">My Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED">The troops were embarked,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_115">115</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_HAMILTON">JOHN HAMILTON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_117">117</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN">The rantin' Highlandman, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25">Up in the mornin' early,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_119">119</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26">Go to Berwick, Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF">Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY">Tell me, Jessie, tell me why?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HAWTHORN">The hawthorn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27">Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOANNA_BAILLIE">JOANNA BAILLIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN">The maid of Llanwellyn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT">Good night, good night!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE">Though richer swains thy love pursue,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29">Poverty parts good companie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30">Fy, let us a' to the wedding,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31">Hooly and fairly,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW">The weary pund o' tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32">The wee pickle tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_142">142</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD">The gowan glitters on the sward,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN">Saw ye Johnnie comin'?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33">It fell on a morning,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34">Woo'd, and married, and a',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_148">148</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_DUDGEON">WILLIAM DUDGEON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS">Up among yon cliffy rocks,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_152">152</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_REID">WILLIAM REID,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_LEA_RIG35">The lea rig,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36">John Anderson, my jo (a continuation), </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER">Fair, modest flower,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KATE_O_GOWRIE37">Kate o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38">Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_159">159</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL">ALEXANDER CAMPBELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS">Now winter's wind sweeps,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_165">165</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH">The hawk whoops on high,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_166">166</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_DUGALD_STEWART">MRS DUGALD STEWART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL">The tears I shed must ever fall,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40"> Returning spring, with gladsome ray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_169">169</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_WILSON">ALEXANDER WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CONNEL_AND_FLORA">Connel and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MATILDA">Matilda,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AUCHTERTOOL43">Auchtertool,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_182">182</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_PLEUGHMAN47">The ploughman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_194">194</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CALLER_HERRIN48">Caller herrin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49">The land o' the leal,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50">The Laird o' Cockpen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING">Her home she is leaving,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD">The bonniest lass in a' the warld,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51">My ain kind dearie, O!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE">He 's lifeless amang the rude billows,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS">Joy of my earliest days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN">Oh, weel's me on my ain man,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_204">204</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52">Kind Robin lo'es me</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE">Kitty Reid's house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_ROBINS_NEST">The robin's nest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_206">206</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53">Saw ye nae my Peggy?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A">Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_209">209</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_210">210</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE">He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55">The lass o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56">There grows a bonnie brier bush,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_TOD">John Tod,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN">Will ye no come back again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_218">218</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JAMIE_THE_LAIRD">Jamie the laird,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_219">219</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND">Songs of my native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CASTELL_GLOOM58">Castell Gloom,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BONNIE_GASCON_HA">Bonnie Gascon Ha',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_AULD_HOUSE">The auld house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_224">224</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59">The hundred pipers,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_226">226</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60">The women are a' gane wud,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JEANIE_DEANS61">Jeanie Deans,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HEIRESS63">The heiress,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE">The mitherless lammie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64">The attainted Scottish nobles,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_232">232</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI">True love is watered aye wi' tears,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_233">233</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66">Ah, little did my mother think,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_234">234</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67">Would you be young again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1REST_IS_NOT_HERE">Rest is not here,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_236">236</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE">Here's to them that are gane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL">Farewell, O farewell!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_238">238</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE">The dead who have died in the Lord,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JAMES_NICOL">JAMES NICOL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_240">240</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES">Blaw saftly, ye breezes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM">By yon hoarse murmurin' stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HALUCKIT_MEG">Haluckit Meg,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE">My dear little lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_246">246</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JAMES_MONTGOMERY">JAMES MONTGOMERY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH">"Friendship, love, and truth,"</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A">The Swiss cowherd's song in a foreign land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GERMAN_WAR-SONG69">German war-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS">Via Crucis, via Lucis,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_255">255</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST">Verses to a robin-redbreast,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SLAVERY_THAT_WAS">Slavery that was,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_258">258</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ANDREW_SCOTT">ANDREW SCOTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_260">260</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND">Rural content, or the muirland farmer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SYMON_AND_JANET">Symon and Janet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1COQUET_WATER">Coquet water,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE">The young maid's wish for peace,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW">The fiddler's widow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF">Lament for the death of an Irish chief,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_272">272</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER">The departure of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_273">273</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART">SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_275">275</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74">It was an English ladye bright,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LOCHINVAR75">Lochinvar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_290">290</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76">Where shall the lover rest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_294">294</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78">Hail to the chief who in triumph advances,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_295">295</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79">The heath this night must be my bed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_297">297</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80">The imprisoned huntsman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_298">298</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81">He is gone on the mountain,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_299">299</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82">A weary lot is thine, fair maid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1ALLEN-A-DALE83">Allen-a-Dale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84">The cypress wreath,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_302">302</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_CAVALIER85">The cavalier,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_303">303</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HUNTING_SONG86">Hunting song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT">Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_305">305</a></span></li></ul></li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN +GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol1ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN">ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_309">309</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_SONG_OF_WINTER">The song of winter,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_311">311</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN">Dirge for Ian Macechan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER">The song of the forsaken drover,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE">Isabel Mackay—the maid alone,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_318">318</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1EVANS_ELEGY">Evan's Elegy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_321">321</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol1DOUGAL_BUCHANAN">DOUGAL BUCHANAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_322">322</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1A_CLAGIONN">A clagionn—the skull,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_326">326</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AM_BRUADAR">Am bruadar—the dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_330">330</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1DUNCAN_MACINTYRE">DUNCAN MACINTYRE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_334">334</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1MAIRI_BHAN_OG">Mairi bhān ōg (Mary, the young, the fair-haired),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_335">335</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT">Bendourain, the Otter Mount,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_336">336</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124">The bard to his musket,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_347">347</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_MACODRUM">JOHN MACODRUM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_351">351</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1ORAN_NA_H-AOIS">Oran na h-aois (the song of age),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_352">352</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1NORMAN_MACLEOD">NORMAN MACLEOD (TORMAID BAN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_355">355</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CABERFAE">Caberfae,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_357">357</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> +<li><a href="#vol1GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_363">363</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol2CONTENTS_II"></a>Volume II.</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_HOGG">JAMES HOGG,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub '><li> <a href="#vol2DONALD_MACDONALD">Donald Macdonald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_48">48</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FLORA_MACDONALDS_FAREWELL51">Flora Macdonald's farewell,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNY_PRINCE_CHARLIE">Bonnie Prince Charlie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_51">51</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_SKYLARK52">The skylark,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CALEDONIA53">Caledonia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_JEANIE_THERE_S_NAETHING_TO_FEAR_YE">O Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WHEN_THE_KYE_COMES_HAME54">When the kye comes hame,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_WOMEN_FOLK55">The women folk,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MLEANS_WELCOME56">M'Lean's welcome,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_59">59</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING57">Charlie is my darling,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOVE_IS_LIKE_A_DIZZINESS">Love is like a dizziness,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_62">62</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_WEEL_BEFA_THE_MAIDEN_GAY58">O weel befa' the maiden gay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_64">64</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FLOWERS_OF_SCOTLAND">The flowers of Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LASS_AN_YE_LOE_ME_TELL_ME_NOW59">Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2PULL_AWAY_JOLLY_BOYS">Pull away, jolly boys,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_SAW_YE_THIS_SWEET_BONNY_LASSIE_O_MINE">O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_70">70</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_AULD_HIGHLANDMAN">The auld Highlandman,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_71">71</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AH_PEGGIE_SINCE_THOU_RT_GANE_AWAY60">Ah, Peggy, since thou 'rt gane away,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_72">72</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GANG_TO_THE_BRAKENS_WI_ME">Gang to the brakens wi' me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_74">74</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOCK_THE_DOOR_LARISTON">Lock the door, Lariston,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2I_HAE_NAEBODY_NOW">I hae naebody now,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_MOON_WAS_A-WANING">The moon was a-waning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY">Good night, and joy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_79">79</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_MUIRHEAD_DD">JAMES MUIRHEAD, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_81">81</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2BESS_THE_GAWKIE">Bess the gawkie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_82">82</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2MRS_AGNES_LYON">MRS AGNES LYON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_84">84</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NEIL_GOWS_FAREWELL_TO_WHISKY62">Neil Gow's farewell to whisky,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_86">86</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SEE_THE_WINTER_CLOUDS_AROUND64">See the winter clouds around,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WITHIN_THE_TOWERS_OF_ANCIENT_GLAMMIS65">Within the towers of ancient Glammis,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MY_SON_GEORGES_DEPARTURE67">My son George's departure,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_90">90</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_LOCHORE">ROBERT LOCHORE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NOW_JENNY_LASS">Now, Jenny lass,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MARRIAGE_AND_THE_CARE_OT">Marriage, and the care o't,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_94">94</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MARYS_TWA_LOVERS">Mary's twa lovers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FORLORN_SHEPHERD68">The forlorn shepherd,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_96">96</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_ROBERTSON">JOHN ROBERTSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_98">98</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_TOOM_MEAL_POCK">The toom meal pock,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_99">99</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_BALFOUR">ALEXANDER BALFOUR,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_101">101</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNY_LASS_O_LEVEN_WATER">The bonnie lass o' Leven water,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_104">104</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SLIGHTED_LOVE">Slighted love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_105">105</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2GEORGE_MACINDOE">GEORGE MACINDOE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CHEESE_AND_WHISKY">Cheese and whisky,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BURN_TROUT">The burn trout,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_DOUGLAS">ALEXANDER DOUGLAS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2FIFE_AN_A_THE_LAND_ABOUT_IT70">Fife, an' a' the land about it,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_112">112</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_MLAREN">WILLIAM M'LAREN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NOW_SUMMER_SHINES_WITH_GAUDY_PRIDE">Now summer shines with gaudy pride,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AND_DOST_THOU_SPEAK_SINCERE_MY_LOVE">And dost thou speak sincere, my love?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SAY_NOT_THE_BARD_HAS_TURND_OLD">Say not the bard has turn'd old,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_117">117</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2HAMILTON_PAUL">HAMILTON PAUL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_120">120</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2HELEN_GRAY">Helen Gray,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_128">128</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_OF_BARR">The bonnie lass of Barr,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_129">129</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_TANNAHILL">ROBERT TANNAHILL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2JESSIE_THE_FLOWER_O_DUMBLANE77">Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOUDOUNS_BONNIE_WOODS_AND_BRAES78">Loudon's bonnie woods and braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LASS_O_ARRANTEENIE79">The lass of Arranteenie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2YON_BURN_SIDE80">Yon burn side,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_GLENIFFER81">The braes o' Gleniffer,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THROUGH_CROCKSTON_CASTLES_LANELY_WAS82">Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_142">142</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_BALQUHITHER83">The braes o' Balquhither,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GLOOMY_WINTER_S_NOW_AWA">Gloomy winter 's now awa',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_ARE_YE_SLEEPING_MAGGIE">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2NOW_WINTER_WI_HIS_CLOUDY_BROW">Now winter, wi' his cloudy brow,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_DEAR_HIGHLAND_LADDIE_O">The dear Highland laddie, O,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_148">148</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_MIDGES_DANCE_ABOON_THE_BURN">The midges dance aboon the burn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BARROCHAN_JEAN85">Barrochan Jean,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_ROW_THEE_IN_MY_HIGHLAND_PLAID">O, row thee in my Highland plaid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNY_WOOD_OF_CRAIGIE_LEA86">Bonnie wood of Craigie lea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY87">Good night, and joy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_154">154</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2HENRY_DUNCAN_DD">HENRY DUNCAN, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CURLING_SONG">Curling song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ON_THE_GREEN_SWARD88">On the green sward,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_163">163</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_RUTHWELL_VOLUNTEERS89">The Ruthwell volunteers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_164">164</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2EXILED_FAR_FROM_SCENES_OF_PLEASURE90">Exiled far from scenes of pleasure,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_165">165</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_ROOF_OF_STRAW">The roof of straw,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THOU_KENST_MARY_HAY91">Thou kens't, Mary Hay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_167">167</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_ALLAN">ROBERT ALLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_MY_SWEET_BETTY">Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2COME_AWA_HIE_AWA">Come awa, hie awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ON_THEE_ELIZA_DWELL_MY_THOUGHTS">On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_173">173</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2TO_A_LINNET">To a linnet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_PRIMROSE_IS_BONNY_IN_SPRING">The primrose is bonnie in spring,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_WOODHOUSELEE">The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_175">175</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_SUN_IS_SETTING_ON_SWEET_GLENGARRY">The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_176">176</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HER_HAIR_WAS_LIKE_THE_CROMLA_MIST">Her hair was like the Cromla mist,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_LEEZE_ME_ON_THE_BONNIE_LASS">O leeze me on the bonnie lass,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_178">178</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2QUEEN_MARYS_ESCAPE_FROM_LOCHLEVEN_CASTLE">Queen Mary's escape from Lochleven Castle,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WHEN_CHARLIE_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS_CAME">When Charlie to the Highlands came,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_180">180</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LORD_RONALD_CAME_TO_HIS_LADYS_BOWER">Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_181">181</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LOVELY_MAID_OF_ORMADALE">The lovely maid of Ormadale,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_183">183</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2A_LASSIE_CAM_TO_OUR_GATE">A lassie cam' to our gate,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_THISTLE_AND_THE_ROSE">The thistle and the rose,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_COVENANTERS_LAMENT">The Covenanter's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNIE_LASSIE">Bonnie lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_188">188</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ANDREW_MERCER">ANDREW MERCER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HOUR_OF_LOVE">The hour of love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_190">190</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_LEYDEN_MD">JOHN LEYDEN, M.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_191">191</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ODE_TO_THE_EVENING_STAR">Ode to the evening star,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_RETURN_AFTER_ABSENCE">The return after absence,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LAMENT_FOR_RAMA">Lament for Rama,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_SCADLOCK">JAMES SCADLOCK,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ALONG_BY_LEVERN_STREAM_SO_CLEAR97">Along by Levern stream so clear,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HARK_HARK_THE_SKYLARK_SINGING">Hark, hark, the skylark singing,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OCTOBER_WINDS">October winds,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_203">203</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2SIR_ALEXANDER_BOSWELL_BART">SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL, BART.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_204">204</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2JENNYS_BAWBEE">Jenny's bawbee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JENNY_DANG_THE_WEAVER100">Jenny dang the weaver,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_210">210</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LASS_O_ISLA">The lass o' Isla,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2TASTE_LIFES_GLAD_MOMENTS101">Taste life's glad moments,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A">Good night, and joy be wi' ye a',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_214">214</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OLD_AND_NEW_TIMES102">Old and new times,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BANNOCKS_O_BARLEY_MEAL103">Bannocks o' barley meal,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_216">216</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_GILLESPIE">WILLIAM GILLESPIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_218">218</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HIGHLANDER104">The Highlander,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ELLEN">Ellen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_221">221</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_MOUNSEY_CUNNINGHAM">THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ADOWN_THE_BURNIES_FLOWERY_BANK106">Adown the burnie's flowery bank,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_HILLS_O_GALLOWA107">The hills o' Gallowa',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_OF_BALLAHUN108">The braes o' Ballahun,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_229">229</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_UNCO_GRAVE109">The unco grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JULIAS_GRAVE">Julia's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FAREWEEL_YE_STREAMS">Fareweel, ye streams,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_232">232</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_STRUTHERS">JOHN STRUTHERS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ADMIRING_NATURES_SIMPLE_CHARMS">Admiring Nature's simple charms,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_239">239</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OH_BONNIE_BUDS_YON_BIRCHEN_TREE">Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen tree,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_240">240</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2RICHARD_GALL">RICHARD GALL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_241">241</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2HOW_SWEET_IS_THE_SCENE">How sweet is the scene,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CAPTAIN_OKAIN">Captain O'Kain,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MY_ONLY_JO_AND_DEARIE_O">My only jo and dearie, O, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_BLINK_O_MARYS_EE110">The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_DRUMLEE">The braes o' Drumlee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_246">246</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2I_WINNA_GANG_BACK_TO_MY_MAMMY_AGAIN">I winna gang back to my mammy again,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_248">248</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BARD">The bard,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOUISA_IN_LOCHABER">Louisa in Lochaber,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_HAZELWOOD_WITCH">The hazlewood witch,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_250">250</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FAREWELL_TO_AYRSHIRE111">Farewell to Ayrshire,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_251">251</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2GEORGE_SCOTT">GEORGE SCOTT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_FLOWER_OF_THE_TYNE">The flower of the Tyne,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_254">254</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_CAMPBELL">THOMAS CAMPBELL, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND">Ye mariners of England,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_262">262</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GLENARA">Glenara,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_WOUNDED_HUSSAR">The wounded hussar,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC">Battle of the Baltic,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MEN_OF_ENGLAND">Men of England,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_268">268</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2MRS_G_G_RICHARDSON112">MRS G. G. RICHARDSON, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_FAIRY_DANCE">The fairy dance,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SUMMER_MORNING">Summer morning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_THE_FLOWING_TIDE">There 's music in the flowing tide,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_275">275</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AH_FADED_IS_THAT_LOVELY_BLOOM">Ah! faded is that lovely broom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_276">276</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_BROWN_MD">THOMAS BROWN, M.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_278">278</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CONSOLATION_OF_ALTERED_FORTUNES">Consolation of altered fortunes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_281">281</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FAITHLESS_MOURNER">The faithless mourner,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_282">282</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LUTE">The lute,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_283">283</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_CHALMERS">WILLIAM CHALMERS, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_285">285</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2SING_ON">Sing on,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_286">286</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LOMOND_BRAES">The Lomond braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOSEPH_TRAIN">JOSEPH TRAIN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_DOGGIE">My doggie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_293">293</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BLOOMING_JESSIE">Blooming Jessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_295">295</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OLD_SCOTIA">Old Scotia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_296">296</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_JAMIESON">ROBERT JAMIESON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_297">297</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_WIFE_S_A_WINSOME_WEE_THING">My wife 's a winsome wee thing,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_299">299</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GO_TO_HIM_THEN_IF_THOU_CANST_GO">Go to him, then, if thou can'st go,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_300">300</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WALTER_WATSON">WALTER WATSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_302">302</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_JOCKIE_S_FAR_AWA">My Jockie 's far awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MAGGIE_AN_ME">Maggie an' me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_305">305</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SIT_DOWN_MY_CRONIE116">Sit down, my cronie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_306">306</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BRAES_O_BEDLAY117">Braes o' Bedlay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_307">307</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JESSIE">Jessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_308">308</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_LAIDLAW">WILLIAM LAIDLAW,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_310">310</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2LUCYS_FLITTIN118">Lucy's flittin',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_314">314</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HER_BONNIE_BLACK_EE">Her bonnie black e'e,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_316">316</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ALAKE_FOR_THE_LASSIE">Alake for the lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_317">317</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_MACDONALD">ALEXANDER MACDONALD,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_321">321</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_LION_OF_MACDONALD">The lion of Macdonald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_323">323</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BROWN_DAIRY-MAIDEN">The brown dairy-maiden,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_327">327</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_PRAISE_OF_MORAG">The praise of Morag,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_329">329</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2NEWS_OF_PRINCE_CHARLES">News of Prince Charles,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_335">335</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_ROY_STUART">JOHN ROY STUART,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_340">340</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2LAMENT_FOR_LADY_MACINTOSH">Lament for Lady Macintosh,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_341">341</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_DAY_OF_CULLODEN">The day of Culloden,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_343">343</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_MORRISON">JOHN MORRISON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_346">346</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_BEAUTY_DARK">My beauty dark,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_347">347</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_MACKAY">ROBERT MACKAY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HIGHLANDERS_HOME_SICKNESS">The Highlander's home sickness,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol2GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_350">350</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol3CONTENTS_III"></a>Volume III.</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol3ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM">ALLAN CUNNINGHAM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SHE_S_GANE_TO_DWALL_IN_HEAVEN">She 's gane to dwall in heaven,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_9">9</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_PRESTON_MILL">The lovely lass of Preston mill,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_10">10</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3GANE_WERE_BUT_THE_WINTER_CAULD">Gane were but the winter cauld,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_12">12</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3IT_S_HAME_AND_IT_S_HAME">It's hame, and it's hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_INVERNESS">The lovely lass of Inverness,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_14">14</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3A_WET_SHEET_AND_A_FLOWING_SEA">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_15">15</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BONNIE_BARK">The bonnie bark,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_16">16</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THOU_HAST_SWORN_BY_THY_GOD_MY_JEANIE">Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3YOUNG_ELIZA9">Young Eliza,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_19">19</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_WOMAN10">Lovely woman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_20">20</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3EBENEZER_PICKEN">EBENEZER PICKEN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3PEGGIE_WI_THE_GLANCIN_EE">Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WOO_ME_AGAIN">Woo me again,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_25">25</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3STUART_LEWIS">STUART LEWIS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_27">27</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3LANARK_MILLS">Lanark mills,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_30">30</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OER_THE_MUIR12">O'er the muir,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_31">31</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_DRUMMOND">DAVID DRUMMOND,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_34">34</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_LEVENSIDE">The bonnie lass o' Levenside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_36">36</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_AFFLECK">JAMES AFFLECK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_38">38</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3HOW_BLEST_WERE_THE_DAYS">How blest were the days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_39">39</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_STIRRAT">JAMES STIRRAT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_40">40</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3HENRY14">Henry,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MARY15">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_42">42</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_GRIEVE">JOHN GRIEVE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3CULLODEN_OR_LOCHIELS_FAREWELL">Culloden; or, Lochiel's Farewell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_MARY18">Lovely Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HER_BLUE_ROLLIN_EE">Her blue rollin' e'e,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3CHARLES_GRAY">CHARLES GRAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MAGGIE_LAUDER21">Maggie Lauder,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING">Charlie is my darling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BLACK-EED_LASSIE23">The black-e'ed lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3GRIM_WINTER_WAS_HOWLIN">Grim winter was howlin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_55">55</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_FINLAY">JOHN FINLAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_57">57</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3O_COME_WITH_ME">O! come with me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_59">59</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TIS_NOT_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_CHEEK">'Tis not the rose upon the cheek,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_60">60</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3I_HEARD_THE_EVENING_LINNETS_VOICE">I heard the evening linnet's voice,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_DEAR_WERE_THE_JOYS">Oh! dear were the joys,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_62">62</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_NICHOLSON">WILLIAM NICHOLSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BRAES_OF_GALLOWAY">The braes of Galloway,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HIGHLANDS">The hills of the Highlands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BANKS_OF_TARF">The banks of Tarf,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3O_WILL_YE_GO_TO_YON_BURN_SIDE">O! will ye go to yon burn-side?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_68">68</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ALEXANDER_RODGER">ALEXANDER RODGER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_71">71</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SWEET_BET_OF_ABERDEEN">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BEHAVE_YOURSEL_BEFORE_FOLK">Behave yoursel' before folk,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_74">74</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_MAIDEN">Lovely maiden,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_PEASANTS_FIRESIDE">The peasant's fireside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3AH_NO_I_CANNOT_SAY_FAREWELL">Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell,"</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_79">79</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_WILSON">JOHN WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_81">81</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MARY_GRAYS_SONG">Mary Gray's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_86">86</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_THREE_SEASONS_OF_LOVE">The three seasons of love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3PRAYER_TO_SLEEP">Prayer to Sleep, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_WEBSTER">DAVID WEBSTER, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3TAK_IT_MAN_TAK_IT">Tak it, man; tak it,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_SWEET_WERE_THE_HOURS">Oh, sweet were the hours,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_94">94</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3PATE_BIRNIE27">Pate Birnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_95">95</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_PARK">WILLIAM PARK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_97">97</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_PATRIOTS_SONG">The patriot's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_99">99</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3THOMAS_PRINGLE">THOMAS PRINGLE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_102">102</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_TO_BONNIE_TEVIOTDALE">Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILES_LAMENT">The exile's lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_107">107</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_AND_SOLITUDE">Love and solitude,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3COME_AWA_COME_AWA">Come awa', come awa',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_109">109</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3DEAREST_LOVE_BELIEVE_ME">Dearest love, believe me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_110">110</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_KNOX">WILLIAM KNOX,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_DEAR_LAND_OF_CAKES">The dear Land o' Cakes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LAMENT">The lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TO_MARY">To Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_THOM">WILLIAM THOM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIES_GRAVE">Jeanie's grave,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THEY_SPEAK_O_WILES">They speak o' wiles,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MITHERLESS_BAIRN30">The mitherless bairn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LASS_O_KINTORE">The lass o' Kintore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_124">124</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MY_HAMELESS_HA">My hameless ha',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_125">125</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_GLEN31">WILLIAM GLEN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3WAES_ME_FOR_PRINCE_CHARLIE33">Waes me for Prince Charlie!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_128">128</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MARY_OF_SWEET_ABERFOYLE34">Mary of sweet Aberfoyle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BATTLE-SONG35">The battle-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MAID_OF_ORONSEY37">The maid of Oronsey,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3JESS_MLEAN38">Jess M'Lean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_EERILY_HOW_DREARILY">How eerily, how drearily,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BATTLE_OF_VITTORIA39">The battle of Vittoria,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_SWEET_BETTY">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FAREWEEL_TO_ABERFOYLE">Fareweel to Aberfoyle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_141">141</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_VEDDER">DAVID VEDDER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIES_WELCOME_HAME">Jeanie's welcome hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3I_NEITHER_GOT_PROMISE_OF_SILLER">I neither got promise of siller,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THERE_IS_A_PANG_FOR_EVERY_HEART">There is a pang for every heart,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_148">148</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_FIRST_OF_MAY">The first of May,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3SONG_OF_THE_SCOTTISH_EXILE">Song of the Scottish exile,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_TEMPEST_IS_RAGING">The tempest is raging,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_TEMPLE_OF_NATURE40">The temple of nature,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_152">152</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_MDIARMID">JOHN M'DIARMID,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3NITHSIDE">Nithside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_158">158</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3EVENING">Evening,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_159">159</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3PETER_BUCHAN">PETER BUCHAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_162">162</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THOU_GLOOMY_FEBERWAR41">Thou gloomy Feberwar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_164">164</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_FINLAY">WILLIAM FINLAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BREAKING_HEART">The breaking heart,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_AULD_EMIGRANTS_FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTLAND">The auld emigrant's fareweel to Scotland,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OER_MOUNTAIN_AND_VALLEY">O'er mountain and valley,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_169">169</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_GIBSON_LOCKHART">JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3BROADSWORDS_OF_SCOTLAND43">Broadswords of Scotland,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CAPTAIN_PATONS_LAMENT44">Captain Paton's lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_178">178</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CANADIAN_BOAT-SONG45">Canadian boat-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_183">183</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3THOMAS_MATHERS">THOMAS MATHERS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3EARLY_LOVE">Early love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_185">185</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_BROWN">JAMES BROWN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MY_PEGGY_S_FAR_AWAY">My Peggy's far away,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_BROUGHT_ME_A_BOUGH">Love brought me a bough,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_188">188</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_S_A_WI_YE">How 's a' wi' ye,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_SAIR_I_FEEL_THE_WITCHING_POWER">Oh! sair I feel the witching power,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_192">192</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DANIEL_WEIR">DANIEL WEIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_194">194</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SEE_THE_MOON">See the moon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_IS_TIMID">Love is timid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3RAVENS_STREAM">Raven's stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_OUR_CHILDHOODS_ONCE_DELIGHTFUL_HOURS">Oh! our childhood's once delightful hours,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3COULD_WE_BUT_LOOK_BEYOND_OUR_SPHERE">Could we but look beyond our sphere,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3IN_THE_MORNING_OF_LIFE">In the morning of life,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3ON_THE_DEATH_OF_A_PROMISING_CHILD">On the death of a promising child,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_DYING_HOUR">The dying hour,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND">The midnight wind,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_203">203</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_DAVIDSON">ROBERT DAVIDSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_206">206</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_TO_CALEDONIA">Farewell to Caledonia,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_207">207</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3ON_VISITING_THE_SCENES_OF_EARLY_DAYS">On visiting the scenes of early days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TO_WANDER_LANG_IN_FOREIGN_LANDS">To wander lang in foreign lands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_210">210</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3PETER_ROGER">PETER ROGER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_JEAN">Lovely Jean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_214">214</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_MALCOLM">JOHN MALCOLM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_MUSIC_OF_THE_NIGHT">The music of the night,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_217">217</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_SEA">The sea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_218">218</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ERSKINE_CONOLLY">ERSKINE CONOLLY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MARY_MACNEIL">Mary Macneil,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THERE_S_A_THRILL_OF_EMOTION">There 's a thrill of emotion,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_222">222</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3GEORGE_MENZIES">GEORGE MENZIES,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BRAES_OF_AUCHINBLAE">The braes of Auchinblae,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_224">224</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FARE_THEE_WEEL">Fare thee weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_225">225</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_SIM">JOHN SIM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_226">226</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3NAE_MAIR_WE_LL_MEET">Nae mair we 'll meet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BONNIE_PEGGY46">Bonnie Peggy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3NOW_MARY_NOW_THE_STRUGGLE_S_OER47">Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_229">229</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_MOTHERWELL">WILLIAM MOTHERWELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIE_MORRISON48">Jeanie Morrison,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_233">233</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WEARIES_WELL">Wearie's Well,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_236">236</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WAE_BE_TO_THE_ORDERS">Wae be to the orders,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_238">238</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND_2">The midnight wind,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_239">239</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HE_IS_GONE_HE_IS_GONE">He is gone! he is gone!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_240">240</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_MACBETH_MOIR">DAVID MACBETH MOIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3CASA_WAPPY49">Casa Wappy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_OUR_FATHERS_LAND">Farewell, our fathers' land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HEIGH-HO">Heigh ho,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_FRASER">ROBERT FRASER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_252">252</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3OH_I_LOED_MY_LASSIE_WEEL">Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_253">253</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_HISLOP">JAMES HISLOP,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_CAMERONIANS_DREAM">The Cameronian's dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_SWEET_THE_DEWY_BELL_IS_SPREAD">How sweet the dewy bell is spread,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_259">259</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_GILFILLAN">ROBERT GILFILLAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_261">261</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MANOR_BRAES">Manor braes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_262">262</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FARE_THEE_WELL">Fare thee well,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_FIRST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER">The first rose of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILES_SONG">The exile's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_HAPPY_DAYS_O_YOUTH">The happy days o' youth,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TIS_SAIR_TO_DREAM">'Tis sair to dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_267">267</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_ROSS">WILLIAM ROSS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_HIGHLAND_MAY">The Highland May,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_272">272</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_CELT_AND_THE_STRANGER">The Celt and the stranger,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CORMACS_CURE">Cormac's cure,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LAST_LAY_OF_LOVE">The last lay of love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_276">276</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3LACHLAN_MACVURICH">LACHLAN MACVURICH,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_279">279</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILE_OF_CLUNY">The exile of Cluny,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_280">280</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_MLAGGAN">JAMES M'LAGGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_282">282</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SONG_OF_THE_ROYAL_HIGHLAND_REGIMENT">Song of the royal Highland regiment,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_284">284</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol3GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol4CONTENTS_IV"></a>Volume IV.</h2> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class="TOC"><li><a href="#vol4HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL">HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN">The wild glen sae green,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_49">49</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SCOTIAS_THISTLE">Scotia's thistle,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS">The land of gallant hearts,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_51">51</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE">The yellow locks o' Charlie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN">We 'll meet yet again,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND">Our ain native land,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG">The Grecian war-song,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_56">56</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4FLORAS_LAMENT">Flora's lament,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_57">57</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL">When the glen all is still,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SCOTLAND_YET6">Scotland yet,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE">The minstrel's grave,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_60">60</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE">My own land and loved one,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD">The bower of the wild,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_62">62</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID">The crook and plaid,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER">The minstrel's bower,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING">When the star of the morning,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM">Though all fair was that bosom,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE">Would that I were where wild-woods +wave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_68">68</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND">O tell me what sound,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_MARY7">Our Mary,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_70">70</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS">MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8">Sweet bard of Ettrick's +Glen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4YOUNG_JAMIE9">Young Jamie, </a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE">Heard ye the bagpipe?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BRUCES_ADDRESS">Bruce's address,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_79">79</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION">Removed from vain fashion,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_80">80</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN">When shall we meet again?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_81">81</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_KING">JAMES KING,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST">The lake is at rest,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW">Life 's like the dew,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_86">86</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ISOBEL_PAGAN">ISOBEL PAGAN,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10">Ca' the yowes to the +knowes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_89">89</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_MITCHELL">JOHN MITCHELL,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4BEAUTY">Beauty,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4TO_THE_EVENING_STAR">To the evening star,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME">O waft me to the fairy clime,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID">The love-sick maid,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_93">93</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_JAMIESON">ALEXANDER JAMIESON,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11">The maid who wove,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_96">96</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE">A sigh and a smile,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_97">97</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_GOLDIE">JOHN GOLDIE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_98">98</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM">And can thy bosom,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_100">100</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SWEETS_THE_DEW">Sweet 's the dew,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_101">101</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_POLLOK">ROBERT POLLOK,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_103">103</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_AFRICAN_MAID">The African maid,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_105">105</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4J_C_DENOVAN">J. C. DENOVAN,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE">Oh! Dermot, dear loved one,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_107">107</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_IMLAH">JOHN IMLAH,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4KATHLEEN">Kathleen,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_109">109</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HIELAN_HEATHER">Hielan' heather,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND">Farewell to Scotland,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE">The rose of Seaton Vale,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4KATHERINE_AND_DONALD">Katherine and Donald,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A">Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a',</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_GATHERING12">The gathering,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_115">115</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MARY">Mary,</a> +<span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS">Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_117">117</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_TWEEDIE">JOHN TWEEDIE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_120">120</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE">Saw ye my Annie?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_121">121</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_ATKINSON">THOMAS ATKINSON,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MARY_SHEARER">Mary Shearer,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4WILLIAM_GARDINER">WILLIAM GARDINER,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15">Oh! Scotland's hills for +me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_127">127</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_HOGG">ROBERT HOGG,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG">Queen of fairy's song,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES">When autumn comes,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BONNIE_PEGGIE_O">Bonnie Peggie, O!</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_WISH_BURST">A wish burst,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18">I love the merry moonlight,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_135">135</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19">Oh, what are the chains of love made +of?</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_136">136</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_WRIGHT">JOHN WRIGHT,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD">An autumnal cloud,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAIDEN_FAIR">The maiden fair,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN">The old blighted thorn,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_WRECKED_MARINER">The wrecked mariner,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOSEPH_GRANT">JOSEPH GRANT,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET">The blackbird's hymn is +sweet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LOVES_ADIEU">Love's adieu,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_146">146</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4DUGALD_MOORE">DUGALD MOORE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4RISE_MY_LOVE">Rise, my love,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4JULIA">Julia,</a> +<span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LUCYS_GRAVE">Lucy's grave,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_152">152</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE">The forgotten brave,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_FIRST_SHIP">The first ship,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WEEP_NOT">Weep not,</a> +<span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4TO_THE_CLYDE">To the Clyde,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_156">156</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON">REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_158">158</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_ARABY_MAID">The Araby maid,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAIDENS_VOW">The maiden's vow,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_LOVE_THE_SEA">I love the sea,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_162">162</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4GEORGE_ALLAN">GEORGE ALLAN,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_163">163</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21">Is your war-pipe asleep?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET">I will think of thee yet,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE">Lassie, dear lassie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22">When I look far down on the +valley below me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23">I will wake my harp when the +shades of even,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_170">170</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_BRYDSON">THOMAS BRYDSON,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT">All lovely and bright,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_173">173</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY">CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY">She died in beauty,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS">The Scottish blue bells,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_MILLER">ROBERT MILLER,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WHERE_ARE_THEY">Where are they?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS">Lay of the hopeless,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_180">180</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_HUME">ALEXANDER HUME,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_182">182</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE">My wee, wee wife,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4O_POVERTY">O, poverty!</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4NANNY">Nanny,</a> +<span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_188">188</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_BESSIE">My Bessie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MENIE_HAY">Menie Hay,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_190">190</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL">I 've wander'd on the sunny hill,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_192">192</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_YEARS_HAE_COME">Oh! years hae come,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_193">193</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME">My mountain hame,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_194">194</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_SMIBERT">THOMAS SMIBERT,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT">The Scottish widow's +lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25">The hero of St. John D'Acre,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES">Oh! bonnie are the howes,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA">Oh! say na you maun gang awa,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_201">201</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_BETHUNE">JOHN BETHUNE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WITHERD_FLOWERS">Withered flowers,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_207">207</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_SPRING_SONG">A spring song,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_208">208</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALLAN_STEWART">ALLAN STEWART,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SEA-BOY">The sea boy,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MENIE_LORN">Menie Lorn,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER">The young soldier,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_214">214</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAND_I_LOVE">The land I love,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_215">215</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_L_MALONE">ROBERT L. MALONE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND">The thistle of Scotland,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_217">217</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY">Hame is aye hamely,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_218">218</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4PETER_STILL">PETER STILL,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4JEANIES_LAMENT">Jeanie's lament,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME">Ye needna be courtin' at me,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_222">222</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME">The bucket for me,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_223">223</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_NICOLL">ROBERT NICOLL,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_225">225</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4ORDE_BRAES">Ordé Braes,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM">The Muir o' Gorse and Broom,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_229">229</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS">The bonnie Hieland hills,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH">The bonnie rowan bush,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE">Bonnie Bessie Lee,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_233">233</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING">ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS">The wild rose blooms,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_236">236</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28">ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE">The Wells o' Wearie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_LAING">ALEXANDER LAING,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_241">241</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AE_HAPPY_HOUR">Ae happy hour,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME">Lass gin ye wad lo'e me,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASS_OF_LOGIE">Lass of Logie,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_AIN_WIFE">My ain wife,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_246">246</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE">The maid o' Montrose,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN">Jean of Aberdeen,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_HOPELESS_EXILE">The hopeless exile,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4GLEN-NA-HALBYN29">Glen-na-H'Albyn,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_CARLILE">ALEXANDER CARLILE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_252">252</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30">Wha 's at the window,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES">My brothers are the stately trees,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN">The Vale of Killean,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_255">255</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_NEVAY">JOHN NEVAY,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER">The emigrant's love- +letter,</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_259">259</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_LYLE">THOMAS LYLE,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_261">261</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4KELVIN_GROVE">Kelvin Grove,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_TRYSTING_HOUR">The trysting hour,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HARVEST_SONG34">Harvest song,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_266">266</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_HOME">JAMES HOME,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_267">267</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MARY_STEEL">Mary Steel,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN">Oh, hast thou forgotten?</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART">The maid of my heart,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT">Song of the emigrant,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35">This lassie o' mine,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_272">272</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_TELFER">JAMES TELFER,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36">Oh, will ye walk the +wood wi' me?</a> <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA">I maun gae over the sea,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_275">275</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol4EVAN_MACLACHLAN">EVAN MACLACHLAN,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_279">279</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4A_MELODY_OF_LOVE">A melody of love,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_281">281</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN">The mavis of the clan,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_282">282</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_BROWN">JOHN BROWN,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_286">286</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY">The sisters of Dunolly,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4CHARLES_STEWART_DD">CHARLES STEWART, D.D.,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL">Luineag—a love carol,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_290">290</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ANGUS_FLETCHER">ANGUS FLETCHER,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL">The Clachan of Glendaruel,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a +href="#vol4Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN">The lassie of the glen,</a> + <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_294">294</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol4GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> +<span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_295">295</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol5CONTENTS_V"></a>Volume V.</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5FRANCIS_BENNOCH1">FRANCIS BENNOCH,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_1">1</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5TRUTH_AND_HONOUR">Truth and honour,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_7">7</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5OUR_SHIP">Our ship,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_8">8</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5AULD_PETER_MACGOWAN">Auld Peter Macgowan,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_10">10</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5THE_FLOWER_OF_KEIR">The flower of Keir,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_11">11</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5CONSTANCY">Constancy,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_12">12</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_WIFIE">My bonnie wee wifie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5THE_BONNIE_BIRD">The bonnie bird,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_14">14</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5COME_WHEN_THE_DAWN">Come when the dawn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_15">15</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5GOOD_MORROW3">Good-morrow,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_16">16</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5OH_WAES_MY_LIFE">Oh, wae's my life</a>, + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5HEY_MY_BONNIE_WEE_LASSIE">Hey, my bonnie wee lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_18">18</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5BESSIE">Bessie,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5COURTSHIP">Courtship,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_21">21</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5TOGETHER">Together,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5FLORENCE_NIGHTINGALE">Florence Nightingale,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_23">23</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5JOSEPH_MACGREGOR">JOSEPH MACGREGOR,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5LADDIE_OH_LEAVE_ME">Laddie, oh! leave me,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5HOW_BLYTHELY_THE_PIPE">How blythely the pipe,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_26">26</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_DUNBAR_DD">WILLIAM DUNBAR, D.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_28">28</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5THE_MAID_OF_ISLAY">The maid of Islay,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_29">29</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_JERDAN">WILLIAM JERDAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_30">30</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WEE_BIRDS_SONG6">The wee bird's song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_32">32</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WHAT_MAKES_THIS_HOUR">What makes this hour?</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_33">33</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_BALD">ALEXANDER BALD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_34">34</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LILY_OF_THE_VALE7">The lily of the vale,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HOW_SWEET_ARE_THE_BLUSHES_OF_MORN">How sweet are the blushes of morn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5GEORGE_WILSON">GEORGE WILSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MILD_AS_THE_MORNING">Mild as the morning,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BEACONS_BLAZED">The beacons blazed,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_38">38</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_RENDEZVOUS">The rendezvous,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_40">40</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_YOUNGER">JOHN YOUNGER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_42">42</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_GETS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW">Ilka blade o' grass gets its ain +drap o' dew,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_43">43</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MONTH_OF_JUNE">The month of June,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_44">44</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_BURTT">JOHN BURTT,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_46">46</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OER_THE_MIST-SHROUDED_CLIFFS8">O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5O_LASSIE_I_LOE_DEAREST">O! lassie I lo'e dearest,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_JAMES_FINLAYSON">CHARLES JAMES FINLAYSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_49">49</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BARD_STRIKES_HIS_HARP">The bard strikes his harp,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_50">50</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5PHOEBUS_WI_GOWDEN_CREST">Phœbus, wi' gowden crest,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_51">51</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_MY_LOVES_BONNIE">Oh, my love 's bonnie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_52">52</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_DOBIE">WILLIAM DOBIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_54">54</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_DREARY_REIGN_OF_WINTER_S_PAST">The dreary reign of winter's past,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_55">55</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_HENDRY_MD">ROBERT HENDRY, M.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_57">57</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LET_NA_GANG_YON_BONNIE_LASSIE">Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_58">58</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5HEW_AINSLIE">HEW AINSLIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_60">60</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HAMEWARD_SANG">The hameward sang,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_61">61</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5DOWIE_IN_THE_HINT_O_HAIRST">Dowie in the hint o' hairst,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_62">62</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ON_WI_THE_TARTAN">On wi' the tartan,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROVER_O_LOCHRYAN">The rover o' Lochryan,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_64">64</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LAST_LOOK_O_HAME">The last look o' hame,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_65">65</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LADS_AN_THE_LAND_FAR_AWA">The lads an' the land far awa',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_66">66</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_BELL">My bonnie wee Bell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_67">67</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_THOMSON">WILLIAM THOMSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAIDEN_TO_HER_REAPING_HOOK">The maiden to her reaping-hook,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_SMART">ALEXANDER SMART,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_71">71</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WHEN_THE_BEE_HAS_LEFT_THE_BLOSSOM">When the bee has left the blossom,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_73">73</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LEAVE_ME_NOT">Oh, leave me not,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_74">74</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5NEVER_DESPAIR">Never despair,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_75">75</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_DUNLOP">JOHN DUNLOP,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_77">77</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_YEAR_THATS_AWA">The year that 's awa',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_DINNA_ASK_ME">Oh, dinna ask me,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LOVE_FLIES_THE_HAUNTS_OF_POMP_AND_POWER9">Love flies the haunts of pomp and +power,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_79">79</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WAR">War,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_80">80</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_BLAIR">WILLIAM BLAIR,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HIGHLAND_MAID">The Highland maid,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NEAPOLITAN_WAR_SONG10">The Neapolitan war-song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_84">84</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ARCHIBALD_MACKAY">ARCHIBALD MACKAY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OUR_AULD_SCOTS_SANGS">Our auld Scots sangs,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_LADDIE_LIES_LOW">My laddie lies low,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_87">87</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JOUK_AND_LET_THE_JAW_GAE_BY">Jouk and let the jaw gae by,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_88">88</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5VICTORIOUS_BE_AGAIN_BOYS">Victorious be again, boys,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_89">89</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_AIR_FOSTER">WILLIAM AIR FOSTER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTIA">Fareweel to Scotia,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FALCONS_FLIGHT">The falcon's flight,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_92">92</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SALMON_RUN">The salmon run,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_94">94</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_MARSHALL">CHARLES MARSHALL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_97">97</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BLESSING_ON_THE_WARK">The blessing on the wark,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_98">98</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JEWEL_OF_A_LAD">Jewel of a lad,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_99">99</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5TWILIGHT_JOYS">Twilight joys,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_100">100</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_WILSON">WILLIAM WILSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5O_BLESSING_ON_HER_STARLIKE_EEN">Oh, blessing on her starlike een,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_BLESSING_ON_THEE_LAND">Oh! blessing on thee, land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_104">104</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FAITHLESS">The faithless,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_105">105</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_SOUL_IS_EVER_WITH_THEE">My soul is ever with thee,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_106">106</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AULD_JOHNNY_GRAHAM">Auld Johnny Graham,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_107">107</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JEAN_LINN">Jean Linn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_108">108</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_MARY">Bonnie Mary,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_109">109</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_MARY_MACARTHUR">MRS MARY MACARTHUR,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MISSIONARY">The missionary,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_RAMSAY">JOHN RAMSAY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5FAREWELL_TO_CRAUFURDLAND">Farewell to Craufurdland,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_PARKER">JAMES PARKER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MARINERS_SONG">The mariner's song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HER_LIP_IS_O_THE_ROSES_HUE">Her lip is o' the rose's hue,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_117">117</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_HUNTER">JOHN HUNTER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BOWER_O_CLYDE">The bower o' Clyde,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY">Mary,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_122">122</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5IN_DISTANT_YEARS">In distant years,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_123">123</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_CHAMBERS">ROBERT CHAMBERS,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_124">124</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5YOUNG_RANDAL">Young Randal,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_126">126</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LADYE_THAT_I_LOVE">The ladye that I love,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_127">127</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THOU_GENTLE_AND_KIND_ONE">Thou gentle and kind one,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_128">128</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LAMENT_FOR_THE_OLD_HIGHLAND_WARRIORS">Lament for the old Highland warriors,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_129">129</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_AIRD">THOMAS AIRD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_131">131</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SWALLOW">The swallow,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_132">132</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5GENIUS">Genius,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_133">133</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_WHITE">ROBERT WHITE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_136">136</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_NATIVE_LAND">My native land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_137">137</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5A_SHEPHERDS_LIFE">A shepherd's life,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_138">138</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HER_I_LOVE_BEST">Her I love best,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_140">140</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_KNIGHTS_RETURN">The knight's return,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_141">141</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BONNIE_REDESDALE_LASSIE">The bonnie Redesdale lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_143">143</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MOUNTAINEERS_DEATH">The mountaineer's death,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_144">144</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_CAMERON">WILLIAM CAMERON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5SWEET_JESSIE_O_THE_DELL">Sweet Jessie o' the dell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MEET_ME_ON_THE_GOWAN_LEA">Meet me on the gowan lea,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_147">147</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MORAGS_FAIRY_GLEN">Morag's fairy glen,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_148">148</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_DINNA_CROSS_THE_BURN_WILLIE">Oh! dinna cross the burn, Willie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_150">150</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_TAIT">ALEXANDER TAIT,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5EENINGS_DEWY_HOUR">E'ening's dewy hour,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_FLEMING">CHARLES FLEMING,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WATTY_MNEIL">Watty M'Neil,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_FERGUSON">WILLIAM FERGUSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5I_LL_TEND_THY_BOWER_MY_BONNIE_MAY">I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WOOING_SONG">Wooing song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_156">156</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_WANDERING_WIDE">I'm wandering wide,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_158">158</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_DICK">THOMAS DICK,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5HOW_EARLY_I_WOOD_THEE">How early I woo'd thee,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5HUGH_MILLER">HUGH MILLER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_161">161</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5SISTER_JEANIE_HASTE_WE_LL_GO11">Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_166">166</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_SOFTLY_SIGHS_THE_WESTLIN_BREEZE">Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_167">167</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_MACANSH">ALEXANDER MACANSH,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_171">171</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MOTHER_AND_CHILD">The mother and child,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_172">172</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CHANGE">Change,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_173">173</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_TOMB_OF_THE_BRUCE">The tomb of the Bruce,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_174">174</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_PRINGLE">JAMES PRINGLE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PLOUGHMAN">The ploughman,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_ANDERSON">WILLIAM ANDERSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_178">178</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WOODLAND_SONG">Woodland song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_180">180</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WELLS_O_WEARY">The wells o' Weary,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_181">181</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_NAEBODY_NOO">I'm naebody noo,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_182">182</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_CANNA_SLEEP">I canna sleep,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_183">183</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_M_HETHERINGTON_DD_LLD">WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_185">185</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"><li><a href="#vol5TIS_SWEET_WI_BLITHESOME_HEART_TO_STRAY">'Tis sweet wi' +blythesome heart to stray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_186">186</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5O_SWEET_IS_THE_BLOSSOM">Oh, sweet is the blossom,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_187">187</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_WATSON">THOMAS WATSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SQUIRE_O_LOW_DEGREE">The squire o' low degree,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_MACDONALD">JAMES MACDONALD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_192">192</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_AGGIE_LANG">Bonnie Aggie Lang,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_193">193</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PRIDE_O_THE_GLEN">The pride o' the glen,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_194">194</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY_2">Mary,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_196">196</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_BALLANTINE">JAMES BALLANTINE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_198">198</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5NAEBODYS_BAIRN">Naebody's bairn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR">Castles in the air,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_201">201</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_KEPS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW">Ilka blade o' grass keps its ain +drap o' dew,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_202">202</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WIFIE_COME_HAME">Wifie, come hame,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_203">203</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BIRDIE_SURE_TO_SING_IS_AYE_THE_GORBEL_O_THE_NEST">The birdie sure to sing is +aye the gorbel o' the nest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_204">204</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CREEP_AFORE_YE_GANG">Creep afore ye gang,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AE_GUDE_TURN_DESERVES_ANITHER">Ae guid turn deserves anither,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NAMELESS_LASSIE">The nameless lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_206">206</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_BONALY">Bonnie Bonaly,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5SAFT_IS_THE_BLINK_O_THINE_EE_LASSIE">Saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_208">208</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAIR_THAT_YE_WORK_AYE_THE_MAIR_WILL_YE_WIN">The mair that ye work, aye the +mair will ye win,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol5Page_209">209</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WIDOW">The widow,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_209">209</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_ELIZA_A_H_OGILVY">MISS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_211">211</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5CRAIG_ELACHIE">Craig Elachie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_212">212</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_FINLAY">JOHN FINLAY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_215">215</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NOBLE_SCOTTISH_GAME">The noble Scottish game,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_216">216</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MERRY_BOWLING-GREEN">The merry bowling-green,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_218">218</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_TOD_STODDART">THOMAS TOD STODDART,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_220">220</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5ANGLING_SONG">Angling song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_221">221</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LET_ITHER_ANGLERS">Let ither anglers,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_222">222</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BRITISH_OAK">The British oak,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_223">223</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5PEACE_IN_WAR">Peace in war,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_224">224</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_MACLAGAN12">ALEXANDER MACLAGAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_226">226</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5CURLING_SONG">Curling song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_229">229</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_AULD_MEAL_MILL">The auld meal mill,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_230">230</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_THISTLE">The thistle,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_232">232</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SCOTCH_BLUE_BELL">The Scotch blue bell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_233">233</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROCKIN">The rockin',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_235">235</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WIDOW_2">The widow,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_237">237</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HIGHLAND_PLAID">The Highland plaid,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_238">238</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FLOWER_O_GLENCOE">The flower o' Glencoe,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_239">239</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_JANE_C_SIMPSON">MRS JANE C. SIMPSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_241">241</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5GENTLENESS">Gentleness,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_242">242</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HE_LOVED_HER_FOR_HER_MERRY_EYE">He loved her for her merry eye,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_244">244</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LIFE_AND_DEATH">Life and death,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_245">245</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5GOOD_NIGHT">Good-night,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_246">246</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ANDREW_PARK">ANDREW PARK,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_248">248</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5HURRAH_FOR_THE_HIGHLANDS">Hurrah for the Highlands,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_249">249</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OLD_SCOTLAND_I_LOVE_THEE">Old Scotland, I love thee!</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_250">250</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5FLOWERS_OF_SUMMER">Flowers of summer,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_251">251</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HOME_OF_MY_FATHERS">Home of my fathers,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_252">252</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WHAT_AILS_MY_HEART">What ails my heart?</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_253">253</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AWAY_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS">Away to the Highlands,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_254">254</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_AWAY">I'm away,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_255">255</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THERE_IS_A_BONNIE_BLUSHING_FLOWER">There is a bonnie, blushing flower,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_256">256</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAID_OF_GLENCOE">The maid of Glencoe,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_257">257</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MARION_PAUL_AIRD">MARION PAUL AIRD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FA_O_THE_LEAF">The fa' o' the leaf,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_AULD_KIRK-YARD">The auld kirkyard,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_260">260</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5FAR_FAR_AWAY">Far, far away,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_261">261</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_SINCLAIR">WILLIAM SINCLAIR,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_263">263</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROYAL_BREADALBANE_OAK">The royal Breadalbane oak,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_264">264</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5EVENING">Evening,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_265">265</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY_3">Mary,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_266">266</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ABSENCE">Absence,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_267">267</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5IS_NOT_THE_EARTH">Is not the earth,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_269">269</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LOVE_THE_SOLDIERS_DAUGHTER_DEAR14">Oh! love the soldier's daughter dear!</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_270">270</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BATTLE_OF_STIRLING">The battle of Stirling,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_272">272</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_MILLER">WILLIAM MILLER,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5YE_COWE_A">Ye cowe a',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_HUME">ALEXANDER HUME,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_AIN_DEAR_NELL">My ain dear Nell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PAIRTIN">The pairtin',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_278">278</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_MACDONALD_DD">JOHN MACDONALD, D.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_281">281</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MISSIONARY_OF_ST_KILDA">The missionary of St Kilda,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_282">282</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5DUNCAN_KENNEDY">DUNCAN KENNEDY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_284">284</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_RETURN_OF_PEACE">The return of peace,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_285">285</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALLAN_MDOUGALL">ALLAN M'DOUGALL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_287">287</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_CARLINE">The song of the carline,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_288">288</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5KENNETH_MACKENZIE">KENNETH MACKENZIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_KILT">The song of the kilt,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_CAMPBELL">JOHN CAMPBELL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_292">292</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_STORM_BLAST">The storm blast,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_293">293</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_MGREGOR_DD">JAMES M'GREGOR, D.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_294">294</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5LIGHT_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS18">Light in the Highlands,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_295">295</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class='smcap'><a name="vol6CONTENTS_VI"></a>Volume VI.</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_xi">xi</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6OBSERVATIONS_ON_SCOTTISH_SONG">OBSERVATIONS ON SCOTTISH SONG. BY HENRY SCOTT +RIDDELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_xx">xx</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6CHARLES_MACKAY_LLD5">CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_1">1</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6LOVE_AWEARY_OF_THE_WORLD">Love aweary of the world,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_8">8</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LOVERS_SECOND_THOUGHTS_ON_WORLD_WEARINESS">The lover's second thoughts on +world weariness,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_9">9</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_CANDID_WOOING">A candid wooing,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_11">11</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6PROCRASTINATIONS">Procrastinations,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_12">12</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6REMEMBRANCES_OF_NATURE">Remembrances of nature,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_13">13</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BELIEVE_IF_YOU_CAN">Believe, if you can,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_15">15</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_THE_HAPPY_TIME_DEPARTED">Oh, the happy time departed,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6COME_BACK_COME_BACK">Come back! come back!</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TEARS">Tears,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_18">18</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CHEER_BOYS_CHEER">Cheer, boys, cheer,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_20">20</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MOURN_FOR_THE_MIGHTY_DEAD">Mourn for the mighty dead,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_21">21</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_PLAIN_MANS_PHILOSOPHY">A plain man's philosophy,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_22">22</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SECRETS_OF_THE_HAWTHORN">The secrets of the hawthorn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_24">24</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_CRY_FROM_THE_DEEP_WATERS">A cry from the deep waters,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_25">25</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_RETURN_HOME">The return home,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_26">26</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_MEN_OF_THE_NORTH">The men of the North,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_28">28</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LOVERS_DREAM_OF_THE_WIND">The lover's dream of the wind,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_29">29</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ARCHIBALD_CRAWFORD">ARCHIBALD CRAWFORD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_31">31</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6BONNIE_MARY_HAY">Bonnie Mary Hay,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SCOTLAND_I_HAVE_NO_HOME_BUT_THEE">Scotland, I have no home but thee,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_DONALD">GEORGE DONALD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_35">35</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SPRING_TIME_O_LIFE">The spring time o' life,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_36">36</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SCARLET_ROSE-BUSH">The scarlet rose-bush,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_37">37</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HENRY_GLASSFORD_BELL">HENRY GLASSFORD BELL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_39">39</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_LIFE_IS_ONE_LONG_THOUGHT_OF_THEE">My life is one long thought of thee,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_40">40</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6WHY_IS_MY_SPIRIT_SAD">Why is my spirit sad?</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_41">41</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6GEORDIE_YOUNG">Geordie Young,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_42">42</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_FAIRY_ELLEN">My fairy Ellen,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_44">44</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_BACHELORS_COMPLAINT">A bachelor's complaint,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_45">45</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_BENNET">WILLIAM BENNET,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_47">47</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6BLEST_BE_THE_HOUR_OF_NIGHT">Blest be the hour of night,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_48">48</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_ROSE_OF_BEAUTY">The rose of beauty,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_49">49</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6I_LL_THINK_ON_THEE_LOVE">I 'll think on thee, love,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_50">50</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_A_MOTHERS_VOICE">There 's music in a mother's voice,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_51">51</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_BRIG_OF_ALLAN">The brig of Allan,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_52">52</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_OUTRAM">GEORGE OUTRAM,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_54">54</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6CHARGE_ON_A_BOND_OF_ANNUITY7">Charge on a bond of annuity,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_55">55</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HENRY_INGLIS">HENRY INGLIS,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6WEEP_AWAY">Weep away,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MANSON">JAMES MANSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OCEAN">Ocean,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HUNTERS_DAUGHTER">The hunter's daughter,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AN_INVITATION">An invitation,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CUPID_AND_THE_ROSE-BUD">Cupid and the rose-bud,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_64">64</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ROBIN_GOODHEARTS_CAROL">Robin Goodheart's carol,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_65">65</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_HEDDERWICK">JAMES HEDDERWICK,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_67">67</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_BARK_AT_SEA">My bark at sea,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_68">68</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SORROW_AND_SONG">Sorrow and song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_69">69</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LAND_FOR_ME">The land for me,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_70">70</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EMIGRANTS">The emigrants,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_72">72</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FIRST_GRIEF">First grief,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_73">73</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LINNET">The linnet,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_76">76</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_BROCKIE">WILLIAM BROCKIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6YE_LL_NEVER_GANG_BACK_TO_YER_MITHER_NAE_MAIR">Ye 'll never gang back to yer +mither nae mair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_78">78</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_MLACHLAN">ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LANG_WINTER_EEN">The lang winter e'en,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_YOUNG">THOMAS YOUNG,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6ANTOINETTE_OR_THE_FALLS">Antoinette; or, The Falls,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_WILSON">ROBERT WILSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6AWAY_AWAY_MY_GALLANT_BARK">Away, away, my gallant bark,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LOVE">Love,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_85">85</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6EDWARD_POLIN">EDWARD POLIN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_87">87</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6A_GOOD_OLD_SONG">A good old song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_88">88</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_BUCHANAN">ALEXANDER BUCHANAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6I_WANDERD_ALANE">I wander'd alane,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6KATIE_BLAIR8">Katie Blair,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_91">91</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6DAVID_TAYLOR">DAVID TAYLOR,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AIN_GUDEMAN">My ain gudeman,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_CATHCART">ROBERT CATHCART,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MARY">Mary,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_JAMIE">WILLIAM JAMIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6AULD_SCOTIAS_SANGS">Auld Scotia's sangs,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_CRAWFORD">JOHN CRAWFORD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_98">98</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AULD_WIFIE_JEAN">My auld wifie Jean,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_102">102</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LAND_O_THE_BONNET_AND_PLAID">The land o' the bonnet and plaid,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_103">103</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SING_ON_FAIRY_DEVON9">Sing on, fairy Devon,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_104">104</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ANN_O_CORNYLEE">Ann o' Cornylee,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_105">105</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MARY_DEAR10">My Mary dear,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_106">106</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WAES_O_EILD">The waes o' eild,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_107">107</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_STUART_BLACKIE11">JOHN STUART BLACKIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_109">109</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6SONG_OF_BEN_CRUACHAN">Song of Ben Cruachan,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_115">115</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_BRAES_OF_MAR">The braes of Mar,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_117">117</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_LOVES">My loves,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_118">118</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LIKING_AND_LOVING">Liking and loving,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_120">120</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_STIRLING_MP">WILLIAM STIRLING, M.P.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_121">121</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6RUTH">Ruth,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_122">122</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SHALLUM">Shallum,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_126">126</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_C_LATTO">THOMAS C. LATTO,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_127">127</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_KISS_AHINT_THE_DOOR">The kiss ahint the door,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_128">128</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WIDOWS_AE_BIT_LASSIE">The widow's ae bit lassie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_129">129</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_YELLOW-HAIRED_LADDIE">The yellow hair'd laddie,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_130">130</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TELL_ME_DEAR">Tell me, dear,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_131">131</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_CADENHEAD">WILLIAM CADENHEAD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_133">133</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6DO_YOU_KNOW_WHAT_THE_BIRDS_ARE_SINGING">Do you know what the birds are +singing,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_134">134</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_OLD_LOVE">An hour with an old love,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_135">135</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALLAN_GIBSON">ALLAN GIBSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_137">137</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LANE_AULD_MAN">The lane auld man,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_138">138</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WANDERERS_RETURN">The wanderer's return,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_139">139</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_ELLIOTT">THOMAS ELLIOTT,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_141">141</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6UP_WITH_THE_DAWN">Up with the dawn,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_142">142</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CLYDE_BOAT_SONG">Clyde boat song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_143">143</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6DIMPLES_AND_A">Dimples and a',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_144">144</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BUBBLES_ON_THE_BLAST">Bubbles on the blast,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_145">145</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SERENADE">A serenade,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_146">146</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SONG_OF_LITTLE_THINGS">A song of little things,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_147">147</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AIN_MOUNTAIN_LAND">My ain mountain land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_148">148</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6WHEN_I_COME_HAME_AT_EEN">When I come hame at e'en,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_149">149</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_LOGAN">WILLIAM LOGAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6JEANIE_GOW">Jeanie Gow,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_LITTLE">JAMES LITTLE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_153">153</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_NATIVE_HILLS_AGAIN">Our native hills again,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_154">154</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6HERE_S_A_HEALTH_TO_SCOTIAS_SHORE">Here 's a health to Scotia's shore,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_155">155</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_DAYS_WHEN_WE_WERE_YOUNG">The days when we were young,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_156">156</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LIZZIE_FREW">Lizzy Frew,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_158">158</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6COLIN_RAE_BROWN">COLIN RAE BROWN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_159">159</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6CHARLIE_S_COMIN">Charlie 's comin',</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_160">160</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WIDOWS_DAUGHTER">The widow's daughter,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_161">161</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_LEIGHTON">ROBERT LEIGHTON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MUCKLE_MEAL_POCK">My muckle meal-pock,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_HENDERSON">JAMES HENDERSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WANDERERS_DEATHBED">The wanderer's deathbed,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SONG_OF_TIME">The song of Time,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_167">167</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS">The Highland hills,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_168">168</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND">My native land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_169">169</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MACLARDY">JAMES MACLARDY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_171">171</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SUNNY_DAYS_ARE_COME_MY_LOVE">The sunny days are come, my love,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_172">172</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_MY_LOVE_WAS_FAIR">Oh, my love was fair,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_173">173</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ANDREW_JAMES_SYMINGTON">ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_176">176</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6DAY_DREAM">Day dream,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_177">177</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FAIR_AS_A_STAR_OF_LIGHT">Fair as a star of light,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_179">179</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6NATURE_MUSICAL">Nature musical,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_180">180</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ISABELLA_CRAIG">ISABELLA CRAIG,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_HELEN">Our Helen,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6GOING_OUT_AND_COMING_IN">Going out and coming in,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_184">184</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MARY_AN_ME">My Mary an' me,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_185">185</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SONG_OF_SUMMER">A song of summer,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_186">186</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_DUTHIE">ROBERT DUTHIE,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6SONG_OF_THE_OLD_ROVER">Song of the old rover,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BOATMANS_SONG">Boatman's song,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_189">189</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LISETTE">Lisette,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_190">190</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_STEPHEN_WILSON">ALEXANDER STEPHEN WILSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_192">192</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THINGS_MUST_MEND">Things must mend,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_193">193</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WEE_BLINK_THAT_SHINES_IN_A_TEAR">The wee blink that shines in a tear,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_194">194</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FLOWERS_OF_MY_OWN_LOVED_CLIME">Flowers of my own loved clime,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_195">195</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MACFARLAN">JAMES MACFARLAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_196">196</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6ISABELLE">Isabelle,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_197">197</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6HOUSEHOLD_GODS">Household gods,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_198">198</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6POOR_COMPANIONS">Poor companions,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_199">199</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_B_C_RIDDELL">WILLIAM B. C. RIDDELL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_201">201</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6LAMENT_OF_WALLACE13">Lament of Wallace,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_202">202</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_WHAT_IS_IN_THIS_FLAUNTING_TOWN14">Oh! what is in this flaunting town,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_203">203</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6MARGARET_CRAWFORD">MARGARET CRAWFORD,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_205">205</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND_2">My native land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_206">206</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EMIGRANTS_FAREWELL">The emigrant's farewell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_STREAM_OF_LIFE">The stream of life,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6DAY-DREAMS_OF_OTHER_YEARS">Day-dreams of other years,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_209">209</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AFFECTIONS_FAITH">Affection's faith,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_211">211</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_DONALD_JUN">GEORGE DONALD, JUN.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_AIN_GREEN_SHAW">Our ain green shaw,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ELIZA">Eliza,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_213">213</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_JEFFREY">JOHN JEFFREY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_215">215</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6WAR-CRY_OF_THE_ROMAN_INSURRECTIONISTS">War-cry of the Roman +insurrectionists,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_216">216</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6PATRICK_SCOTT">PATRICK SCOTT,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EXILE">The exile,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_BATHURST_DICKSON">JOHN BATHURST DICKSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_220">220</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AMERICAN_FLAG">The American flag,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_221">221</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6EVAN_MCOLL">EVAN M'COLL,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_222">222</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HEATHER">The hills of the heather,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_223">223</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_D_BURNS">JAMES D. BURNS,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6RISE_LITTLE_STAR">Rise, little star,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THOUGH_LONG_THE_WANDERER_MAY_DEPART">Though long the wanderer may depart,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_225">225</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_HENDERSON">GEORGE HENDERSON,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_227">227</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6I_CANNA_LEAVE_MY_NATIVE_LAND">I canna leave my native land,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_228">228</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HORATIUS_BONAR_DD">HORATIUS BONAR, D.D.,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_229">229</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_MEETING_PLACE">The meeting-place,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_230">230</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TRUST_NOT_THESE_SEAS_AGAIN">Trust not these seas again,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_233">233</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_HALLIDAY">JOHN HALLIDAY,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AULD_KIRK_BELL">The auld kirk bell,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AULD_AIK-TREE">The auld aik-tree,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_236">236</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"><li><a href="#vol6JAMES_DODDS">JAMES DODDS,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_238">238</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6TRIAL_AND_DEATH_OF_ROBERT_BAILLIE_OF_JERVIESWOODE">Trial and death of Robert +Baillie of Jervieswoode,</a> <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_239">239</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol6DUNCAN_MACFARLAN">DUNCAN MACFARLAN,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_249">249</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol6THE_BEAUTY_OF_THE_SHIELING">The beauty of the shieling,</a> + <span class='tocright'> <a +href="#vol6Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6JOHN_MUNRO">JOHN MUNRO,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_251">251</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol6THE_HIGHLAND_WELCOME">The Highland welcome,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_252">252</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6JOHN_MACDONALD_JUN">JOHN MACDONALD, JUN.</a>, + <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li><a href="#vol6MARY_THE_FAIR_OF_GLENSMOLE">Mary, the fair of Glensmole,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_254">254</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6EVAN_MCOLL16">EVAN M'COLL,</a> +<span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_256">256</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li><a href="#vol6THE_CHILD_OF_PROMISE">The child of promise,</a> + <span class='tocright'><a +href="#vol6Page_256">256</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6INDEX">INDEX,</a> <span +class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_257">257</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="INDEX"></a>INDEX<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">TO THE</span><br /> +<br /> +FIRST LINES OF THE SONGS.</h2> + +<ul class='IX'><li>A bonnie rose bloom'd wild and fair, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_112">112</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu—a long and last adieu, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, lovely summer, I see thee declining, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, romantic banks of Clyde, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_30">30</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, ye streams that smoothly glide, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, ye wither'd flow'rets, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Admiring nature's simple charms, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! do not bid me wake the lute, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_283">283</a>.</li> + +<li>Adown the burnie's flowery bank, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed out, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li>Ae morn of May, when fields were gay, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! faded is that lovely bloom, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Afar from the home where his youthful prime, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Afore the Lammas tide, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>Afore the muircock begin to craw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Again the laverock seeks the sky, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Ages, ages have departed, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>A health to Caberfae, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_357">357</a>.</li> + +<li>Alake for the lassie! she's no right at a', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_317">317</a>.</li> + +<li>A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>Alas! how true the boding voice, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! little did my mother think, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>A lively young lass had a wee pickle tow, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li>All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>All night, by the pathway that crosses the muir, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>Alone to the banks of the dark rolling Danube, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Along by Levern stream so clear, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Although the lays o' ither lands, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Amang the birks sae blithe an' gay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Amang the breezy heights and howes, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! Mary, sweetest maid, farewell, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>And can thy bosom bear the thought, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li>And dost thou speak sincere, my love, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah no! I cannot say farewell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah, Peggie, since thou 'rt gane away, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>A pretty young maiden sat on the grass, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>As clear is Luther's wave, I ween, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_326">326</a>.</li> + +<li>As lockfasted in slumber's arms, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_330">330</a>.</li> + +<li>As o'er the Highland hills I hied, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>A song, a song, brave hearts, a song, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_8">8</a>.</li> + +<li>As sunshine to the flowers in May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>At hame or afield, I 'm cheerless and lone, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! the wound of my breast sinks my heart to the dust, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_343">343</a>.</li> + +<li>At waking so early, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_311">311</a>.</li> + +<li>At Willie's weddin' on the green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>Auld Peter MacGowan cam' down the craft, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_10">10</a>.</li> + +<li>Awake, thou first of creatures, indignant in their frown, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>Away, away, like a child at play, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Away, away, my gallant bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>Away on the breast of the ocean, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Away on the wings of the wind she flies, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Away to the Highlands, where Lomond is flowing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>A weary lot is thine, fair maid, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bird cam' to our ha' door, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bird sits upon a spray, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bit laddie sits wi' a bowl upon his knees, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>A wet sheet and a flowing sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>A young gudewife is in my house, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Bare was our burn brae, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Beautiful moon, wilt thou tell me where, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>Behave yoursel' before folk, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_74">74</a>.</li> + +<li>Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Ben Cruachan is king of the mountains, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li>Beneath a hill, 'mang birken bushes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Bird of the wilderness, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Blaw saftly, ye breezes, ye streams, smoothly murmur, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>Blest be the hour of night, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>Blithe be the mind of the ploughman, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>Blithe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>Blithe young Bess to Jean did say, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Blue are the hills above the Spey, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Charlie 's now awa, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Clouden, as ye wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie lassie, blithesome lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>Born where the glorious starlights trace, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>Bring the rod, the line, the reel, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Brither Jamie cam' west wi' a braw burn trout, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Built on Time's uneven sand, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>By Niagara's flood, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>By the lone Mankayana's margin gray, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 'neath the moon's chilly beam, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_212">212</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Calm sleep the village dead, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_260">260</a>.</li> + +<li>Cam' ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>Can my dearest Henry leave me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>Can ought be constant as the sun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Can ye lo'e, my dear lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>Ca' the yowes to the knowes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_119">119</a>.</li> + +<li>Change! change! the mournful story, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Chaunt me no more thy roundelay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Cheer, boys, cheer! no more of idle sorrow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>Close by the marge of Leman's Lake, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Come all ye jolly shepherds, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Come awa', come awa', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Come awa', hie awa', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Come back, come back, thou youthful time, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Come gie us a sang, Montgomery cried, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_19">19</a>.</li> + +<li>Come, memory, paint, though far away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Come o'er the stream, Charlie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Come see my scarlet rose-bush, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_306">306</a>.</li> + +<li>Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Could we but look beyond our sphere, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Culloden, on thy swarthy brow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_46">46</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear aunty, I've been lang your care, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Dearest love believe me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear to my heart as life's warm stream, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Does grief appeal to you, ye leal, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_341">341</a>.</li> + +<li>Down by a crystal stream, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Down in the valley lone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_181">181</a>.</li> + +<li>Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Do you know what the birds are singing? vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_134">134</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Each whirl of the wheel, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Easy is my pillow press'd, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a>.</li> + +<li>Eliza fair, the mirth of May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_138">138</a>.</li> + +<li>Eliza was a bonnie lass, and, oh! she lo'ed me weel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>Ere eild wi' his blatters had warsled me doun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>Ere foreign fashions crossed the Tweed, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Eye of the brain and heart, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_133">133</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair are the fleecy flocks that feed, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair as a star of light, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair Ellen, here again I stand, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair modest flower of matchless worth, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair Scotland, dear as life to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Fare-thee-weel, for I must leave thee, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>Fare-thee-weel, my bonnie lassie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_225">225</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel, O! fareweel, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel to ilk hill whar the red heather grows, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel, ye fields and meadows green, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, and though my steps depart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, our father's land, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, ye streams sae dear to me, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Far lone amang the Highland hills, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Far over yon hills of the heather sae green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>Fife, an' a' the land about it, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_112">112</a>.</li> + +<li>Float forth, thou flag of the free, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Flowers of summer sweetly springing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Flow saftly thou stream through the wild spangled valley, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>For mony lang year I hae heard frae my granny, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>For success a prayer with a farewell bear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_284">284</a>.</li> + +<li>For twenty years and more, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>From beauty's soft lips, like the balm of its roses, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_97">97</a>.</li> + +<li>From the climes of the sun all war-worn and weary, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>From the deep and troubled waters, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>From the village of Leslie with a heart full of glee, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Fy, let us a' to the wedding, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_136">136</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Gae bring my guid auld harp ance mair, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Gane were but the winter cauld, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Give me the hour when bells are rung, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Give the swains of Italia, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Glad tidings for the Highlands, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_335">335</a>.</li> + +<li>Gloomy winter's now awa', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>Good morrow, good morrow, warm, rosy, and bright, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li>Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Good night, the silver stars are clear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>Go to Berwick, Johnnie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Go to him then if thou canst go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>Grim winter was howlin' owre muir and owre mountain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Guid night and joy be wi' ye a', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_114">114</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Had I the wings of a dove I would fly, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Hae ye been in the north, bonnie lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_308">308</a>.</li> + +<li>Hail to the chief who in triumph advances, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_295">295</a>.</li> + +<li>Hark, hark, the skylark singing, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Hark, the martial drums resound, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_164">164</a>.</li> + +<li>Haste all ye fairy elves hither to me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Heard ye the bagpipe or saw ye the banners, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Heart, take courage, 'tis not worthy, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_9">9</a>.</li> + +<li>Heaven speed the righteous sword, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Hech, what a change hae we now in this toun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Hech, hey, the mirth that was there, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>He left his native land, and far away, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>He loved her for her merry eyes, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Here 's to them, to them that are gane, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Her eyes were red with weeping, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Here we go upon the tide, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Here 's to the year that 's awa', vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Her hair was like the Cromla mist, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Her lip is o' the rose's hue, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Hersell pe auchty years and twa, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>He is gone, he is gone, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_240">240</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's gone on the mountain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_299">299</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's no more on the green hill, he has left the wide forest, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>He sorrowfu' sat by the ingle cheek, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_138">138</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Hey for the Hielan' heather, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li>Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Hope cannot cheat us, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>How blest were the days o' langsyne, when a laddie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>How blithely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_26">26</a>.</li> + +<li>How brightly beams the bonnie moon, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>How eerily, how drearily, how eerily to pine, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>How happy a life does the parson possess, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>How happy lives the peasant by his ain fireside, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>How often death art waking, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_321">321</a>.</li> + +<li>How pleasant, how pleasant to wander away, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet are Leven's silver streams, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet are the blushes of morn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet is the scene at the waking of morning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet the dewy bell is spread, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_259">259</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet thy modest light to view, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurra! for the land o' the broom-cover'd brae, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_103">103</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for the Highlands, the brave Scottish Highlands, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for the Thistle, the brave Scottish Thistle, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah, hurrah for the boundless sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah, hurrah, we 've glory won, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Hush, ye songsters, day is done, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_159">159</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>I ask no lordling's titled name, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>I canna leave my native land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>I canna sleep a wink, lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>I cannot give thee all my heart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>I dream'd thou wert a fairy harp, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_29">29</a>.</li> + +<li>If Fortune with a smiling face, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>I fleet along, and the empires fall, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I fly from the fold since my passion's despair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_316">316</a>.</li> + +<li>I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>If there 's a word that whispers love, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>If wealth thou art wooing, or title, or fame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_7">7</a>.</li> + +<li>I gaed to spend a week in Fife, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>I hae naebody noo, I hae naebody noo, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>I have wander'd afar, 'neath stranger skies, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>I heard a wee bird singing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li>I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts amang, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>I lately lived in quiet ease, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>I like to spring in the morning bricht, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll no be had for naething, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll no walk by the kirk, mother, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll sing of yon glen of red heather, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_74">74</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll think on thee, Love, when thy bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll twine a gowany garland, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>I love a sweet lassie, mair gentle and true, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the free ridge of the mountain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the merry moonlight, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the sea, I love the sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_162">162</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>I mark'd her look of agony, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm a very little man, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm away, I 'm away like a thing that is wild, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm naebody noo, though in days that are gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm now a guid farmer, I 've acres o' land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm wand'rin' wide this wintry night, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm wearin' awa', John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>I met four chaps yon birks amang, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>In a dream of the night I was wafted away, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>In a howm, by a burn, where the brown birks grow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>In all its rich wildness her home she is leaving, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>In a saft simmer gloamin', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>In distant years when other arms, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>I neither got promise of siller nor land, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>I never thocht to thole the waes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>In her chamber, vigil keeping, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>In life's gay morn, when hopes beat high, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>In that home was joy and sorrow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>In the morning of life, when its sunny smile, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>I pray for you of your courtesy, before we further move, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>I remember the time, thou roaring sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_318">318</a>.</li> + +<li>I sat in the vale 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>I saw my true love first on the banks of queenly Tay, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>I see, I see the Hirta, the land of my desire, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>I see the wretch of high degree, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a>.</li> + +<li>Is not the earth a burial-place, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>I sing of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Is our Helen very fair, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>It fell on a morning when we were thrang, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>It has long been my fate to be thought in the wrong, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>It 's dowie in the hint o' hairst, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>It was an English ladye bright, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_289">289</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've listened to the midnight wind, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've a guinea I can spend, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've been upon the moonlit deep, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_296">296</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've met wi' mony maidens fair, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've no sheep on the mountain nor boat on the lake, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've rocked me on the giddy mast, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've seen the lily of the wold, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've seen the smiling summer flower, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>I wadna gi'e my ain wife, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>I walk'd by mysel' owre the sweet braes o' Yarrow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_86">86</a>.</li> + +<li>I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>I warn you, fair maidens, to wail and to sigh, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>I will sing a song of summer, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I will wake my harp when the shades of even, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_170">170</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna bide in your castle ha's, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna gang back to my minny again, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_248">248</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>I wish I were where Helen lies, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_111">111</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Jenny's heart was frank and free, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>John Anderson, my jo, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Joy of my earliest days, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_203">203</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Lane on the winding Earn there stands, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>Lassie wi' the gowden hair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li>Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>Leave the city's busy throng, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>Let ither anglers choose their ain, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>Let the maids of the Lowlands, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Let us go, lassie, go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Life's pleasure seems sadness and care, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>Liking is a little boy, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li>Listen to me, as when ye heard our father, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Look up, old friend, why hang thy head, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_181">181</a>.</li> + +<li>Loudon's bonnie woods and braes, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>Love flies the haunts of pomp and power, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>Love is timid, love is shy, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Loved land of my kindred, farewell, and for ever, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>Lowland lassie, wilt thou go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_151">151</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>'Mang a' the lasses young and braw, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Meet me on the gowan lea, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Meg muckin' at Geordie's byre, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Men of England, who inherit, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Mourn for the mighty dead, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_21">21</a>.</li> + +<li>Mournfully, oh, mournfully, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Musing, we sat in our garden bower, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li>My beauty dark, my glossy bright, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_347">347</a>.</li> + +<li>My beauty of the shieling, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>My Bessie, oh, but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>My bonnie wee Bell was a mitherless bairn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>My brothers are the stately trees, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>My brown dairy, brown dairy, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_327">327</a>.</li> + +<li>My couthie auld wife, aye blithsome to see, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>My darling is the philabeg, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>My dearest, wilt thou follow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_252">252</a>.</li> + +<li>My dear little lassie, why, what 's the matter? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>My hawk is tired of perch and hood, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_298">298</a>.</li> + +<li>My lassie is lovely, as May-day adorning, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>My love, come let us wander, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>My love 's in Germanie, send him hame, send him hame, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>My luve 's a flower in garden fair, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>My mother bids me bind my hair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>My mountain hame, my mountain hame, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>My name it is Donald M'Donald, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>My native land, my native land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>My soul is ever with thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>My spirit could its vigil hold, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_152">152</a>.</li> + +<li>My tortured bosom long shall feel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>My wife 's a winsome wee thing, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_299">299</a>.</li> + +<li>My young heart's luve! twal' years hae been, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_259">259</a>.</li> + +<li>My young, my fair, my fair-haired Mary, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_335">335</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Nae mair we 'll meet again, my love, by yon burn-side, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Name the leaves on all the trees, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li>Never despair! when the dark cloud is lowering, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Night turns to day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>No homeward scene near me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>No more by thy margin, dark Carron, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>No one knows what silent secrets, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>No sound was heard o'er the broom-covered valley, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_86">86</a>.</li> + +<li>Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Now bank and brae are clad in green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Now, Jenny lass, my bonnie bird, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Now, Mary, now, the struggle 's o'er, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Now rests the red sun in his caves of the ocean, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Now simmer decks the field wi' flowers, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_304">304</a>.</li> + +<li>Now smiling summer's balmy breeze, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Now summer shines with gaudy pride, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Now the beams of May morn, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Now winter wi' his cloudy brow, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Now winter's wind sweeps o'er the mountains, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_165">165</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Oh! are ye sleeping, Maggie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! away to the Tweed, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, beautiful and bright thou art, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, blessing on her star-like e'en, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! blessing on thee, land, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie are the howes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen-tree, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_240">240</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie Nelly Brown, I will sing a song to thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie 's the lily that blooms in the valley, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, brave Caledonians, my brothers, my friends, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bright the beaming queen o' night, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, Charlie is my darling, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, come my bonnie bark, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, come with me for the queen of night, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>October winds wi' biting breath, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>O dear, dear to me, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! dear to my heart are my heather-clad mountains, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! dear were the joys that are past, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna be sae sair cast down, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna cross the burn, Willie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna look ye pridefu' doon on a' beneath your ken, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_204">204</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, distant, but dear, is that sweet island wherein, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>O'er mountain and valley, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Of learning long a scantling was the portion of the Gael, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_295">295</a>.</li> + +<li>Of Nelson and the north, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Of streams that down the valley run, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, gentle sleep wilt thou lay thy head, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, grand bounds the deer o'er the mountain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk-tree's shade, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo! vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>O hi', O hu', she 's sad for scolding, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_125">125</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, how I love the evening hour, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! I have traversed lands afar, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! I lo'ed my lassie weel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>O June, ye spring the loveliest flowers, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lady, twine no wreath for me, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_302">302</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! I lo'e dearest, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! if thou 'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! wilt thou gang wi' me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! wilt thou go? vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>Old Scotland, I love thee, thou 'rt dearer to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, leave me not! the evening hour, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_74">74</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, leeze me on the bonnie lass, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, many a true Highlander, many a liegeman, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_280">280</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, merrily and gallantly, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mind ye the ewe-bughts, Marion, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_56">56</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mony a turn of woe and weal, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_347">347</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mony a year has come and gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my lassie, our joy to complete again, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my love, leave me not, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! my love 's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! my love is very lovely, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_8">8</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my love was fair as the siller clud, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Once more in the Highlands I wander alone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, neighbours! what had I to do for to marry? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>On, on to the fields where of old, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_56">56</a>.</li> + +<li>On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a>.</li> + +<li>On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>On the greensward lay William in anguish extended, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>On the banks o' the burn, while I pensively wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_316">316</a>.</li> + +<li>On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>On this unfrequented plain, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>O our childhood's once delightful hours, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>Or ere we part, my heart leaps hie to sing ae bonnie sang, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sarely may I rue the day, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sair I feel the witching power, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_271">271</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say na you maun gang awa, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not life is ever drear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not o' war the young soldier is weary, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not 'tis the March wind, 'tis a fiercer blast that drives, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_293">293</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not, my love, with that mortified air, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_305">305</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, some will tune their mournful strain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>O sweet is the blossom o' the hawthorn-tree, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>O sweet is the calm, dewy gloamin', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_247">247</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sweet were the hours, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, swiftly bounds our gallant bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>O tell me, bonnie young lassie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, that I were the shaw in, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_329">329</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, the auld house, the auld house! vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_19">19</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the happy time departed, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the sunny peaches glow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>O these are not my country's hills, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie, blue sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_242">242</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Our ain native land, our ain native land, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, tuneful voice, I still deplore, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Our Mary liket weel to stray, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>Our minstrels a', frae south to north, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Our native land, our native vale, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Ours is the land of gallant hearts, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, wae be to the orders that march'd my love awa, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! wae's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, wae 's my life, and sad my heart, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, waft me to the fairy clime, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, we aft hae met at e'en, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel's me on my ain man, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_204">204</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel befa' the maiden gay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! we hae been amang the bowers that winter didna bare, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, wha 's at the window, wha, wha, wha? vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, what are the chains of love made of, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, what care I where Love was born, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! what is in this flaunting town, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where are the pretty men of yore, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where has the exile his home, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! why left I my hame, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>O! why should old age so much wound us, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! will ye go to yon burn-side, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! will ye walk the wood wi' me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! years hae come an' years hae gane, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_290">290</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Peace be upon their banners, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Phœbus, wi' gowden crest, leaves ocean's heaving breast, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>Preserve us a' what shall we do, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>Put off, put off, and row with speed, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_179">179</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Quoth Rab to Kate, My sonsy clear, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_94">94</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Raise high the battle-song, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Red gleams the sun on yon hill tap, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Reft the charm of the social shell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Removed from vain fashion, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>Returning Spring, with gladsome ray, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, little star, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, my love! the moon unclouded, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, rise, Lowland and Highlandman, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, Romans, rise at last, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>Rising o'er the heaving billow, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_29">29</a>.</li> + +<li>Robin is my ain gudeman, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Saw ye Johnnie comin', quo' she, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>Saw ye my Annie, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Saw ye nae my Peggie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Scotia's thistle guards the grave, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>See the moon o'er cloudless Jura, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>See the winter clouds around, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Send a horse to the water, ye 'll no mak him drink, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_219">219</a>.</li> + +<li>Shadows of glory, the twilight is parting, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Shall I leave thee, thou land to my infancy dear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>She died, as die the roses, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_256">256</a>.</li> + +<li>She died in beauty, like a rose, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>She 's aff and awa, like the lang simmer day, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>She 's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_9">9</a>.</li> + +<li>She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_352">352</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing a' ye bards wi' loud acclaim, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing not to me of sunny shores, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing on, fairy Devon, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing on, thou little bird, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_286">286</a>.</li> + +<li>Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>Soldier, rest! thy warfare 's o'er, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Songs of my native land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Star of descending night, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Stay, proud bird of the shore, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>St Leonard's hill was lightsome land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>Sublime is Scotia's mountain land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Summer ocean, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Surrounded wi' bent and wi' heather, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet 's the gloamin's dusky gloom, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet 's the dew-deck'd rose in June, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_101">101</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet summer now is by, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Talk not of temples—there is one, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_152">152</a>.</li> + +<li>Taste life's glad moments, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Tell me, Jessie, tell me why? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>Tell me, dear! in mercy speak, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>The auld meal mill, oh! the auld meal mill, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>The bard strikes his harp the wild valleys among, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>The bard strikes his harp the wild woods among, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>The beacons blazed, the banners flew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li>The best o' joys maun hae an end, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>The blackbird's hymn is sweet, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonnie, bonnie bairn, sits pokin' in the ase, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonnie rowan bush, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonniest lass in a' the warld, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>The breath o' spring is gratefu', vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>The bride she is winsome and bonnie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>The cantie spring scarce reared her head, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>The cranreuch's on my head, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>The dark gray o' gloamin', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>The dawn is breaking, but lonesome and eerie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>The dreary reign of winter's past, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>The fairies are dancing, how nimbly they bound, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_26">26</a>.</li> + +<li>The fields, the streams, the skies, are fair, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_267">267</a>.</li> + +<li>The gathering clans 'mong Scotia's glens, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloamin' star was showerin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloom of dark despondency, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloomy days are gone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>The golden smile of morning, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>The gowan glitters on the sward, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>The happy days of yore, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>The harvest morn breaks, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>The hawk whoops on high, and keen, keen from yon cliff, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The heath this night must be my bed, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_297">297</a>.</li> + +<li>The Highland hills, there are songs of mirth, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The ingle cheek is bleezin' bricht, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_235">235</a>.</li> + +<li>Their nest was in the leafy bush, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>The king is on his throne, wi' his sceptre an' his croon, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>The laird o' Cockpen, he 's proud and he 's great, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>The lake is at rest, love, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>The lark has left the evening cloud, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_10">10</a>.</li> + +<li>The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>The lily of the vale is sweet, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>The little comer 's coming, the comer o'er the sea, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>The loved of early days, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_93">93</a>.</li> + +<li>The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_130">130</a>.</li> + +<li>The maid is at the altar kneeling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>The maid who wove the rosy wreath, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>The midges dance aboon the burn, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>The mitherless lammie ne'er miss'd its ain mammie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon shone in fits, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon was a waning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>The mother with her blooming child, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>The music of the night, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li>The music o' the year is hush'd, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>The neighbours a' they wonder how, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_293">293</a>.</li> + +<li>The night winds Eolian breezes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>The noble otter hill, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_337">337</a>.</li> + +<li>The oak is Britain's pride, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>The parting kiss, the soft embrace, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>The primrose is bonnie in spring, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>There grew in bonnie Scotland, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>There grows a bonnie brier-bush in our kail-yard, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a bonnie blushing flower, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_256">256</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a concert in the trees, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a pang for every heart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>There is music in the storm, love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>There lived a lass in Inverness, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li>There lives a lassie i' the braes, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>There lives a young lassie, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's a thrill of emotion, half painful, half sweet, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's high and low, there 's rich and poor, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's mony a flower beside the rose, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's music in the flowing tide, there 's music in the air, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's music in a mother's voice, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae covenant noo, lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae love like early love, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's some can be happy and bide whar they are, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>There was a musician wha play'd a good stick, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_271">271</a>.</li> + +<li>The rosebud blushing to the morn, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>The Rover o' Lochryan, he 's gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>The Scotch blue bell, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>The season comes when first we met, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li>The sea, the deep, deep sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>The shadows of evening fall silent around, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>The sky in beauty arch'd, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>The skylark sings his matin lay, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>The soldier waves the shining sword, the shepherd-boy his crook; vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>The spring comes back to woo the earth, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>The storm grew faint as daylight tinged, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_175">175</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun-down had mantled Ben Nevis with night vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun is sunk, the day is done, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>The sunny days are come, my love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_305">305</a>.</li> + +<li>The tears I shed must ever fall, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The tempest is raging, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>The troops were all embarked on board, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li>The weary sun 's gane down the west, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>The widow is feckless, the widow 's alane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>The wild rose blooms in Drummond woods, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>The women are a' gane wud, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>The year is wearing to an end, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>They 're stepping off, the friends I knew, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +<li>They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>They tell me first and early love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou bonnie wood o' Craigie Lee, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_164">164</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou gentle and kind one, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou hast left me, dear Dermot, to cross the wide sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Though all fair was that bosom heaving white, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li>Though long the wanderer may depart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_225">225</a>.</li> + +<li>Though richer swains thy love pursue, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>Though siller Tweed rin o'er the Lea, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Though the winter of age wreathes her snow on his head, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Though this wild brain is aching, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I lo'e thee weel, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou morn full of beauty, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>Through Crockstoun Castle's lanely wa's, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>Thus sang the minstrel Cormack, his anguish to beguile, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy queenly hand, Victoria, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy wily eyes, my darling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis the first rose o' summer that opes to my view, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Together, dearest, we have play'd, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>To live in cities, and to join, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Touch once more a sober measure, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>To Scotland's ancient realm, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>To wander lang in foreign lands, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>True love is water'd aye wi' tears, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>Trust not these seas again, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Tuck, tuck, feer—from the green and growing leaves, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas a balmy summer gloamin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas on a Monday morning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas on a simmer afternoon, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas when December's dark'ning scowl the face of heaven o'ercast, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_314">314</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Up with the dawn, ye sons of toil, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_142">142</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Waken, lords and ladies gay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_304">304</a>.</li> + +<li>Walkin' out ae mornin' early, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>Warlike chieftains now assembled, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Weep away, heart, weep away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Weep not over poet's wrong, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Welcome, pretty little stranger, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>We 'll meet beside the dusky glen on yon burn-side, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>We 'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>We part, yet wherefore should I weep, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>Were I a doughty cavalier, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Were I but able to rehearse, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>Wha 'll buy caller herrin', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Whan Jamie first woo'd me he was but a youth, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Whare hae ye been a' day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_83">83</a>.</li> + +<li>What ails my heart—what dims my e'e? vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>What ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain? vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>What are the flowers of Scotland, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>What fond, delicious ecstasy does early love impart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>What makes this hour a day to me? vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>What though ye hae nor kith nor kin, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>What 's this vain world to me, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>What wakes the poet's lyre, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>When autumn comes and heather bells, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>When Charlie to the Highlands came, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>When cities of old days, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>When first I cam' to be a man, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>When fops and fools together prate, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>When friendship, love, and truth abound, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>When hope lies dead within the heart, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +<li>When I began the world first, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>When I look far down on the valley below me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>When I think on the lads and the land I hae left, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_307">307</a>.</li> + +<li>When I was a miller in Fife, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>When Katie was scarce out nineteen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li>When loud the horn is sounding, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>When merry hearts were gay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lyin' a' at rest, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>When rosy day far in the west has vanish'd frae the scene, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>When sets the sun o'er Lomond's height, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>When shall we meet again, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>When the bee has left the blossom, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>When the fair one and the dear one, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>When the glen all is still save the stream of the fountain, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>When the lark is in the air, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>When the sheep are in the fauld, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>When the star of the morning is set, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>When the sun gaes down, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>When thy smile was still clouded, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>When we meet again, Lisette, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>When white was my owrelay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>When winter winds forget to blaw, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>Where Manor's stream rins blithe an' clear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_262">262</a>.</li> + +<li>Where shall the lover rest, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Where the faded flower shall freshen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Where windin' Tarf, by broomy knowes, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>While beaux and belles parade the street, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_303">303</a>.</li> + +<li>Why does the day whose date is brief, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Why gaze on that pale face, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Why is my spirit sad, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>Why tarries my love, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an a', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li>Wifie, come hame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Wi' heart sincere I love thee, Bell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Will ye gang o'er the lea rig, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Will ye go to the Highlands, my Mary, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>Winter's cauld and cheerless blast, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>With a breezy burst of singing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_285">285</a>.</li> + +<li>With drooping heart he turn'd away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Within the towers of ancient Glammis, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>With laughter swimming in thine eye, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>With lofty song we love to cheer, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_23">23</a>.</li> + +<li>Would that I were where wild woods wave, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Would you be young again? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_235">235</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ye briery bields, where roses blaw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye daisied glens and briery braes, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye dark, rugged rocks that recline o'er the deep, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye hameless glens and waving woods, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye have cross'd o'er the wave from the glades where I roved, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye ken whaur yon wee burnie, love, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye mariners of England, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_262">262</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye needna be courtin' at me, auld man, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>Yes, the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Yestreen, as I strayed on the banks o' the Clyde, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>Yestreen, on Cample's bonnie flood, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_21">21</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Yon old temple pile, where the moon dimly flashes, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Young Donald, dearer loved than life, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_113">113</a>.</li> + +<li>Young Love once woo'd a budding rose, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_64">64</a></li> + +<li>Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>You 've surely heard of famous Neil, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_86">86</a>.</li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS"></a>INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Affleck, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li>Ainslie, Hew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>Aird, Marion Paul, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>Aird, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Allan, George, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>Allan, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Anderson, Rev. J. G. Torry, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>Anderson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>Atkinson, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_122">122</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Baillie, Joanna, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Bald, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li>Balfour, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_101">101</a>.</li> + +<li>Ballantine, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>Barnard, Lady Ann, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Bell, Henry Glassford, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>Bennet, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Bennoch, Francis, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Bethune, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Bethune, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Blackie, John Stuart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Blair, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonar, Horatius, D.D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Boswell, Sir Alex., Bart., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_204">204</a>.</li> + +<li>Brockie, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, Colin Rae, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_159">159</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_286">286</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, Thomas., M.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_278">278</a>.</li> + +<li>Brydson, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchanan, Alexander, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchanan, Dugald, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_322">322</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchan, Peter, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_162">162</a>.</li> + +<li>Burns, James D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Burtt, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_46">46</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Cadenhead, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Cameron, William, senr., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>Cameron, William, junr., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, Alexander, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, Thomas, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>Carlile, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_252">252</a>.</li> + +<li>Cathcart, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Chalmers, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_285">285</a>.</li> + +<li>Chambers, Robert, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Conolly, Erskine, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Couper, Robert, M.D., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Craig, Isabella, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, Archibald, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, Margaret, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Cunningham, Allan, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Cunningham, Thomas Mounsey, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_223">223</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Davidson, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>Denovan, J. C., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Dick, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Dickson, John Bathurst, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Dobie, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Dodds, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Donald, George, sen., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>Donald, George, jun., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Douglas, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Drummond, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li>Dudgeon, William, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Dunbar, William, D.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>Duncan, Henry, D.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>Dunlop, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>Duthie, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Elliott, Thomas, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ferguson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, John, senr., vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, John, junr., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlayson, Charles James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>Fleming, Charles, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Fletcher, Angus, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Foster, William Air, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Fraser, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_252">252</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Gall, Richard, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Gardiner, William, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Gibson, Allan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Gilfillan, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Gillespie, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Glen, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Goldie, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Gordon, Alexander, Duke of, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_46">46</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Joseph, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Mrs, of Carron, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Mrs, of Laggan, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>Gray, Charles, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Grieve, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_43">43</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Halliday, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>Hamilton, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Hedderwick, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Henderson, George, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Henderson, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Hendry, Robert, M.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Hetherington, William, D.D., LL.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>Hislop, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Hogg, James, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Hogg, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Home, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_267">267</a>.</li> + +<li>Hume, Alexander, sen., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Hume, Alexander, jun., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Hunter, Mrs John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>Hunter, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Imlah, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Inglis, Henry, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Inglis, Mrs Margaret M., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>Irving, Archibald Stirling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_235">235</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Jamieson, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Jamieson, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Jamie, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Jeffrey, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Jerdan, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_30">30</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Kennedy, Duncan, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_284">284</a>.</li> + +<li>King, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_83">83</a>.</li> + +<li>Knox, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_112">112</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Laidlaw, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_310">310</a>.</li> + +<li>Laing, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Latto, Thomas C., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Leighton, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>Lewis, Stuart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_27">27</a>.</li> + +<li>Leyden, John, M.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_191">191</a>.</li> + +<li>Little, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Lochore, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Lockhart, John Gibson, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Logan, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Lyle, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Lyon, Mrs Agnes, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_84">84</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Macansh, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Macarthur, Mrs Mary, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Charles, LL.D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Coll, Evan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Diarmid, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_321">321</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, John, sen., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, John, jun., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Dougall, Allan, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>Macfarlan, Duncan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Macfarlan, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Macgregor, James, D.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Macgregor, Joseph, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Macindoe, George, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Macintyre, Duncan, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_334">334</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Archibald, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Robert, sen., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_309">309</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Robert, jun., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackenzie, Kenneth, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Lachlan, Alexander, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Lachlan, Evan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_279">279</a>.</li> + +<li>Maclagan, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li>Maclagan, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>Maclardy, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Laren, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Macleod, Norman, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_355">355</a>.</li> + +<li>Macneill, Hector, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>Macodrum, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_351">351</a>.</li> + +<li>Macvurich, Lachlan, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_279">279</a>.</li> + +<li>Malcolm, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Malone, Robert L., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>Manson, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Marshall, Charles, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_97">97</a>.</li> + +<li>Mathers, Thomas, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>Mayne, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Menzies, George, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Mercer, Andrew, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, Hugh, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>Mitchell, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>Moir, David Macbeth, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>Montgomery, James, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_247">247</a>.</li> + +<li>Moore, Dugald, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Morrison, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_346">346</a>.</li> + +<li>Motherwell, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Muirhead, James, D.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Munro, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_251">251</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Nairn, Carolina, Baroness, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>Nevay, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>Nicholson, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>Nicol, James, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>Nicoll, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_225">225</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ogilvy, Mrs Eliza H., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Outram, George, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_54">54</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Pagan, Isobel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>Park, Andrew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_248">248</a>.</li> + +<li>Part, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_97">97</a>.</li> + +<li>Parker, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Paul, Hamilton, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li>Picken, Ebenezer, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>Polin, Edward, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Pollok, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_103">103</a>.</li> + +<li>Pringle, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>Pringle, Thomas, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_102">102</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ramsay, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Reid, William, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Richardson, Mrs E. G., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>Riddell, Henry Scott, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_7">7</a>.</li> + +<li>Riddell, William B. C., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Ritchie, Alexander A., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Robertson, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Rodger, Alexander, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>Roger, Peter, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Ross, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_271">271</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Scadlock, James, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Andrew, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_260">260</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, George, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Patrick, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Sir Walter, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>Sillery, Charles Doyne, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Sim, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li>Simpson, Mrs Jane C, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Sinclair, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>Skinner, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Smart, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>Smibert, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Allan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Charles, D.D., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_289">289</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Mrs Dugald, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Still, Peter, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Stirling, William, M.P., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Stirrat, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Stoddart, Thomas Tod, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Struthers, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_235">235</a>.</li> + +<li>Stuart, John Roy, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_340">340</a>.</li> + +<li>Symington, Andrew James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_176">176</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Tait, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Tait, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>Tannahill, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Taylor, David, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Telfer, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Thomson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Train, Joseph, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Tweedie, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_120">120</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Vedder, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_143">143</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Watson, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Watson, Walter, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_302">302</a>.</li> + +<li>Webster, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Weir, Daniel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>White, Robert, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Alexander, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Alexander Stephen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, George, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>Wright, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_137">137</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Young, Thomas, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Younger, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_42">42</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_i_title.jpg" width="600" height="999" alt="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." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_i_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="760" alt="SIR WALTER SCOTT BART." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SIR WALTER SCOTT BAR<sup style="font-size: 75%;">T</sup>.<br /><br /> +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & M<sup style="font-size: 75%;">c</sup>Farlane.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. I.</p> + +<p class='center'>EDINBURGH:<br /> +<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.<br /> +<br /> +M.DCCC.LV.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>TO</p> + +<p class='center'><span style="font-size: large;">WILLIAM STIRLING, ESQ. OF KEIR, M.P.,</span></p> + +<p class='center'>AN ENLIGHTENED SENATOR, AN ACCOMPLISHED SCHOLAR, AND +AN INGENIOUS POET,</p> + +<p class='center'><span style="font-size: large;">THIS FIRST VOLUME</span></p> + +<p class='center'>OF</p> + +<p class='center'><span style="font-size: large;">The Modern Scottish Minstrel</span></p> + +<p class='center'>IS,</p> + +<p class='center'>WITH HIS KIND PERMISSION, MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,</p> + +<p class='center'>BY</p> + +<p class='center'>HIS VERY OBEDIENT, FAITHFUL SERVANT,</p> + +<p class='center'><span style="font-size: large;">CHARLES ROGERS.</span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> +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 <i>modern</i> +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.</p> + +<p>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-<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> +pathetic 'Old Bard's Wish,' 'The Song of the Owl,' and, perhaps, +Ian Lom's 'Innerlochy.'</p> + +<p>"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."</p></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;" class="smcap">Argyle House, Stirling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>April 18, 1855.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_SKINNER">JOHN SKINNER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1TULLOCHGORUM">Tullochgorum,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_11">11</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_O_BADENYON">John o' Badenyon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_EWIE_WI_THE_CROOKIT_HORN">The ewie wi' the crookit horn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1O_WHY_SHOULD_OLD_AGE_SO_MUCH">O! why should old age so much wound us?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1STILL_IN_THE_WRONG">Still in the wrong,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LIZZY_LIBERTY">Lizzy Liberty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_STIPENDLESS_PARSON">The stipendless parson,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_28">28</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_MAN_OF_ROSS">The man of Ross,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_31">31</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1A_SONG_ON_THE_TIMES">A song on the times,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_33">33</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_CAMERON">WILLIAM CAMERON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_35">35</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1AS_OER_THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS_I_HIED">As o'er the Highland hills I hied,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_37">37</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_JOHN_HUNTER">MRS JOHN HUNTER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_39">39</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_INDIAN_DEATH-SONG">The Indian death-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_MOTHER_BIDS_ME_BIND_MY_HAIR">My mother bids me bind my hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4">The flowers of the forest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_42">42</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SEASON_COMES_WHEN_FIRST_WE_MET">The season comes when first we met,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_TUNEFUL_VOICE_I_STILL_DEPLORE">Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM">Dear to my heart as life's warm stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS">The lot of thousands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_45">45</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON">ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_48">48</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON">MRS GRANT OF CARRON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH">Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ROBERT_COUPER_MD">ROBERT COUPER, M.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1KINRARA">Kinrara,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SHEELING">The sheeling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6">The ewe-bughts, Marion,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_56">56</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1LADY_ANNE_BARNARD">LADY ANNE BARNARD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1AULD_ROBIN_GRAY">Auld Robin Gray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_64">64</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1Part_II">" " Part II.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SONG">Why tarries my love?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_68">68</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_TAIT">JOHN TAIT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_70">70</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_BANKS_OF_THE_DEE">The banks of the Dee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_72">72</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1HECTOR_MACNEILL">HECTOR MACNEILL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12">Mary of Castlecary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_82">82</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_BOY_TAMMY13">My boy, Tammy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14">Oh, tell me how for to woo,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LASSIE_WI_THE_GOWDEN_HAIR">Lassie wi' the gowden hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE">Come under my plaidie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_89">89</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15">I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DONALD_AND_FLORA16">Donald and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18">My luve's in Germany,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19">Dinna think, bonnie lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_96">96</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN">MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_99">99</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE">Oh, where, tell me where?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_104">104</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20">Oh, my love, leave me not,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_106">106</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_MAYNE">JOHN MAYNE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_107">107</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1LOGAN_BRAES23">Logan braes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24">Helen of Kirkconnel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG">The winter sat lang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_JOHNNIE">My Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED">The troops were embarked,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_115">115</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_HAMILTON">JOHN HAMILTON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_117">117</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN">The rantin' Highlandman, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25">Up in the mornin' early,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_119">119</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26">Go to Berwick, Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF">Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY">Tell me, Jessie, tell me why?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HAWTHORN">The hawthorn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27">Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOANNA_BAILLIE">JOANNA BAILLIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN">The maid of Llanwellyn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT">Good night, good night!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE">Though richer swains thy love pursue,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29">Poverty parts good companie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30">Fy, let us a' to the wedding,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31">Hooly and fairly,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW">The weary pund o' tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32">The wee pickle tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_142">142</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD">The gowan glitters on the sward,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN">Saw ye Johnnie comin'?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33">It fell on a morning,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34">Woo'd, and married, and a',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_148">148</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_DUDGEON">WILLIAM DUDGEON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS">Up among yon cliffy rocks,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_152">152</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_REID">WILLIAM REID,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_LEA_RIG35">The lea rig,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36">John Anderson, my jo (a continuation), </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER">Fair, modest flower,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KATE_O_GOWRIE37">Kate o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38">Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_159">159</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL">ALEXANDER CAMPBELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS">Now winter's wind sweeps,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_165">165</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH">The hawk whoops on high,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_166">166</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1MRS_DUGALD_STEWART">MRS DUGALD STEWART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL">The tears I shed must ever fall,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40"> Returning spring, with gladsome ray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_169">169</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_WILSON">ALEXANDER WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CONNEL_AND_FLORA">Connel and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MATILDA">Matilda,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AUCHTERTOOL43">Auchtertool,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_182">182</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_PLEUGHMAN47">The ploughman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_194">194</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CALLER_HERRIN48">Caller herrin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49">The land o' the leal,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50">The Laird o' Cockpen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING">Her home she is leaving,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD">The bonniest lass in a' the warld,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51">My ain kind dearie, O!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE">He 's lifeless amang the rude billows,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS">Joy of my earliest days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN">Oh, weel's me on my ain man,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_204">204</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52">Kind Robin lo'es me</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE">Kitty Reid's house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_ROBINS_NEST">The robin's nest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_206">206</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53">Saw ye nae my Peggy?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A">Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_209">209</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_210">210</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE">He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55">The lass o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56">There grows a bonnie brier bush,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JOHN_TOD">John Tod,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN">Will ye no come back again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_218">218</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JAMIE_THE_LAIRD">Jamie the laird,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_219">219</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND">Songs of my native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1CASTELL_GLOOM58">Castell Gloom,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BONNIE_GASCON_HA">Bonnie Gascon Ha',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_AULD_HOUSE">The auld house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_224">224</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59">The hundred pipers,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_226">226</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60">The women are a' gane wud,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1JEANIE_DEANS61">Jeanie Deans,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HEIRESS63">The heiress,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE">The mitherless lammie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64">The attainted Scottish nobles,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_232">232</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI">True love is watered aye wi' tears,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_233">233</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66">Ah, little did my mother think,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_234">234</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67">Would you be young again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1REST_IS_NOT_HERE">Rest is not here,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_236">236</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE">Here's to them that are gane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL">Farewell, O farewell!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_238">238</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE">The dead who have died in the Lord,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JAMES_NICOL">JAMES NICOL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_240">240</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES">Blaw saftly, ye breezes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM">By yon hoarse murmurin' stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HALUCKIT_MEG">Haluckit Meg,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE">My dear little lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_246">246</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JAMES_MONTGOMERY">JAMES MONTGOMERY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH">"Friendship, love, and truth,"</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A">The Swiss cowherd's song in a foreign land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1GERMAN_WAR-SONG69">German war-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS">Via Crucis, via Lucis,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_255">255</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST">Verses to a robin-redbreast,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SLAVERY_THAT_WAS">Slavery that was,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_258">258</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1ANDREW_SCOTT">ANDREW SCOTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_260">260</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND">Rural content, or the muirland farmer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SYMON_AND_JANET">Symon and Janet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1COQUET_WATER">Coquet water,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE">The young maid's wish for peace,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW">The fiddler's widow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF">Lament for the death of an Irish chief,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_272">272</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER">The departure of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_273">273</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART">SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_275">275</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74">It was an English ladye bright,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1LOCHINVAR75">Lochinvar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_290">290</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76">Where shall the lover rest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_294">294</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78">Hail to the chief who in triumph advances,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_295">295</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79">The heath this night must be my bed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_297">297</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80">The imprisoned huntsman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_298">298</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81">He is gone on the mountain,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_299">299</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82">A weary lot is thine, fair maid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1ALLEN-A-DALE83">Allen-a-Dale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84">The cypress wreath,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_302">302</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_CAVALIER85">The cavalier,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_303">303</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1HUNTING_SONG86">Hunting song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT">Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_305">305</a></span></li></ul></li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN +GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol1ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN">ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_309">309</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1THE_SONG_OF_WINTER">The song of winter,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_311">311</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN">Dirge for Ian Macechan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER">The song of the forsaken drover,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE">Isabel Mackay—the maid alone,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_318">318</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1EVANS_ELEGY">Evan's Elegy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_321">321</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol1DOUGAL_BUCHANAN">DOUGAL BUCHANAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_322">322</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1A_CLAGIONN">A clagionn—the skull,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_326">326</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1AM_BRUADAR">Am bruadar—the dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_330">330</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1DUNCAN_MACINTYRE">DUNCAN MACINTYRE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_334">334</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1MAIRI_BHAN_OG">Mairi bhān ōg (Mary, the young, the fair-haired),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_335">335</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT">Bendourain, the Otter Mount,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_336">336</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol1THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124">The bard to his musket,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_347">347</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1JOHN_MACODRUM">JOHN MACODRUM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_351">351</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1ORAN_NA_H-AOIS">Oran na h-aois (the song of age),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_352">352</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol1NORMAN_MACLEOD">NORMAN MACLEOD (TORMAID BAN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_355">355</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol1CABERFAE">Caberfae,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_357">357</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> +<li><a href="#vol1GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol1Page_363">363</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JOHN_SKINNER"></a>JOHN SKINNER.</h2> + +<p>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. <span class="smcap">John +Skinner</span>. 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_3" id="vol1Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And passing rich with forty pounds a-year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remote from towns he ran his godly race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er had changed, nor wish'd to change his place."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_4" id="vol1Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_5" id="vol1Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come gie 's a sang, Montgomery cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay your disputes all aside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What signifies 't for folks to chide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what was done before them?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Whig and Tory all agree," &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_6" id="vol1Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_7" id="vol1Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +and John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, he maintained an +epistolary intercourse for several years. Dr Gleig, who +edited the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, 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 <i>Musical Museum</i>, +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.'"</p> + +<p>As a man of ingenuity, various acquirements, and +agreeable manners, Mr Skinner was held in much<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_8" id="vol1Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Long-gate</i>, nor did the distant prospect compensate for<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_9" id="vol1Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_10" id="vol1Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_11" id="vol1Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1TULLOCHGORUM"></a>TULLOCHGORUM.</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come gie 's a sang, Montgomery cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay your disputes all aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What signifies 't for folks to chide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what was done before them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Whig and Tory all agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whig and Tory all agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drop their Whig-mig-morum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Whig and Tory all agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spend the night wi' mirth and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cheerful sing alang wi' me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Reel o' Tullochgorum.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Tullochgorum 's my delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gars us a' in ane unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ony sumph that keeps a spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In conscience I abhor him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For blythe and cheerie we'll be a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blythe and cheerie we'll be a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make a happy quorum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For blythe and cheerie we'll be a'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lang as we hae breath to draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dance, till we be like to fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Reel o' Tullochgorum.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_12" id="vol1Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What needs there be sae great a fraise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' dringing dull Italian lays?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For half a hunder score o' them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're dowf and dowie at the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dowf and dowie at the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a' their variorum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're dowf and dowie at the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their <i>allegros</i> and a' the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They canna' please a Scottish taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared wi' Tullochgorum.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let warldly worms their minds oppress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' fears o' want and double cess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sullen sots themsells distress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' keeping up decorum:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sour and sulky shall we sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like old philosophorum?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever try to shake a fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To th' Reel o' Tullochgorum?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May choicest blessings aye attend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each honest, open-hearted friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calm and quiet be his end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' that's good watch o'er him;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_13" id="vol1Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">May peace and plenty be his lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace and plenty be his lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dainties a great store o' them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May peace and plenty be his lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unstain'd by any vicious spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may he never want a groat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 's fond o' Tullochgorum!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for the sullen, frumpish fool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loves to be oppression's tool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May envy gnaw his rotten soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And discontent devour him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May dool and sorrow be his chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dool and sorrow be his chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nane say, Wae 's me for him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May dool and sorrow be his chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a' the ills that come frae France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha e'er he be that winna dance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Reel o' Tullochgorum.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JOHN_O_BADENYON"></a>JOHN O' BADENYON</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first I cam to be a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of twenty years or so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought myself a handsome youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fain the world would know;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_14" id="vol1Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In best attire I stept abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spirits brisk and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here and there and everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was like a morn in May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No care I had, nor fear of want,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rambled up and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a beau I might have past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In country or in town;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still was pleased where'er I went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I was alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tuned my pipe and pleased myself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in the days of youthful prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mistress I must find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <i>love</i>, I heard, gave one an air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en improved the mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Phillis fair above the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind fortune fix'd my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her piercing beauty struck my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she became my choice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Cupid now, with hearty prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I offer'd many a vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And danced and sung, and sigh'd and swore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As other lovers do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, when at last I breathed my flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found her cold as stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left the girl, and tuned my pipe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When <i>love</i> had thus my heart beguiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With foolish hopes and vain;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_15" id="vol1Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To <i>friendship's</i> port I steer'd my course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laugh'd at lovers' pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A friend I got by lucky chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas something like divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An honest friend 's a precious gift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such a gift was mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now whatever might betide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy man was I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In any strait I knew to whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I freely might apply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strait soon came: my friend I try'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heard, and spurn'd my moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hied me home, and tuned my pipe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methought I should be wiser next,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would a <i>patriot</i> turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cry up Parson Horne.<a name="vol1FNanchor_1_1" id="vol1FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their manly spirit I admired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praised their noble zeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who had with flaming tongue and pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maintain'd the public weal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But e'er a month or two had pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found myself betray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas <i>self</i> and <i>party</i>, after all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the stir they made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last I saw the factious knaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insult the very throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cursed them a', and tuned my pipe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_16" id="vol1Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What next to do I mused awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still hoping to succeed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pitch'd on <i>books</i> for company,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gravely tried to read:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bought and borrow'd everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And studied night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That happen'd in my way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Philosophy I now esteem'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ornament of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And carefully through many a page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hunted after truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand various schemes I tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet was pleased with none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I threw them by, and tuned my pipe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, ye youngsters everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wish to make a show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take heed in time, nor fondly hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For happiness below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What you may fancy pleasure here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but an empty name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>girls</i>, and <i>friends</i>, and <i>books</i>, and so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You 'll find them all the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then be advised, and warning take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From such a man as me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm neither Pope nor Cardinal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor one of high degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You 'll meet displeasure everywhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then do as I have done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en tune your pipe and please yourselves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With John o' Badenyon.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_17" id="vol1Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_EWIE_WI_THE_CROOKIT_HORN"></a>THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKIT HORN.</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I but able to rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie's praise in proper verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd sound it forth as loud and fierce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever piper's drone could blaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Ewie wi' the crookit horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha had kent her might hae sworn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic a Ewe was never born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereabout nor far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic a Ewe was never born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereabout nor far awa'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never needed tar nor keil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark her upo' hip or heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her crookit horn did as weel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ken her by amo' them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never threaten'd scab nor rot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But keepit aye her ain jog-trot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith to the fauld and to the cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was never sweir to lead nor caw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith to the fauld and to the cot, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cauld nor hunger never dang her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind nor wet could never wrang her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anes she lay an ouk and langer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Furth aneath a wreath o' snaw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan ither ewies lap the dyke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eat the kail, for a' the tyke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie never play'd the like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tyc'd about the barn wa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie never play'd the like, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_18" id="vol1Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A better or a thriftier beast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae honest man could weel hae wist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, silly thing, she never mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hae ilk year a lamb or twa':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first she had I gae to Jock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be to him a kind o' stock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the laddie has a flock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' mair nor thirty head ava';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the laddie has a flock, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lookit aye at even' for her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest mishanter should come o'er her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the fowmart might devour her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin the beastie bade awa;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie wi' the crookit horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well deserved baith girse and corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic a Ewe was never born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereabout nor far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic a Ewe was never born, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet last ouk, for a' my keeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wha can speak it without <i>greeting</i>?)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A villain cam' when I was sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sta' my Ewie, horn, and a':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought her sair upo' the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down aneath a buss o' thorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I got my Ewie's crookit horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my Ewie was awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I got my Ewie's crookit horn, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_19" id="vol1Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! gin I had the loon that did it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sworn I have as well as said it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a' the warld should forbid it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wad gie his neck a thra':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never met wi' sic a turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this sin' ever I was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie, wi' the crookit horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silly Ewie, stown awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! had she died o' crook or cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Ewies do when they grow auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wad na been, by mony fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sair a heart to nane o's a':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the claith that we hae worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae her and her's sae aften shorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loss o' her we could hae born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had fair strae-death ta'en her awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loss o' her we could hae born, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thus, poor thing, to lose her life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aneath a bleedy villain's knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm really fleyt that our guidwife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will never win aboon 't ava:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! a' ye bards benorth Kinghorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call your muses up and mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Ewie wi' the crookit horn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stown frae 's, and fell'd and a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_20" id="vol1Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1O_WHY_SHOULD_OLD_AGE_SO_MUCH"></a>O! WHY SHOULD OLD AGE SO MUCH +WOUND US?</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Dumbarton Drums."</i></p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! why should old age so much wound us?<a name="vol1FNanchor_2_2" id="vol1FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is nothing in it all to confound us:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how happy now am I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my old wife sitting by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our bairns and our oys all around us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how happy now am I, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We began in the warld wi' naething,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we 've jogg'd on, and toil'd for the ae thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We made use of what we had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our thankful hearts were glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we got the bit meat and the claithing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We made use of what we had, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have lived all our lifetime contented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the day we became first acquainted:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's true we 've been but poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we are so to this hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we never yet repined or lamented;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's true we 've been but poor, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_21" id="vol1Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we had any stock, we ne'er vauntit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor did we hing our heads when we wantit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we always gave a share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the little we could spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it pleased a kind Heaven to grant it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we always gave a share, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We never laid a scheme to be wealthy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By means that were cunning or stealthy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we always had the bliss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what further could we wiss?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be pleased with ourselves, and be healthy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we always had the bliss, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though we cannot boast of our guineas?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have plenty of Jockies and Jeanies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these, I 'm certain, are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More desirable by far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a bag full of poor yellow steinies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these, I am certain, are, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have seen many wonder and ferly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of changes that almost are yearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among rich folks up and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both in country and in town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now live but scrimply and barely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among rich folks up and down, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_22" id="vol1Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then why should people brag of prosperity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A straiten'd life we see is no rarity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed, we 've been in want,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our living 's been but scant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet we never were reduced to need charity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed, we 've been in want, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In this house we first came together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we 've long been a father and mither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though not of stone and lime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will last us all our time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I hope we shall ne'er need anither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though not of stone and lime, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when we leave this poor habitation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll depart with a good commendation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll go hand in hand, I wiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a better house than this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make room for the next generation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll go hand in hand, I wiss, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then why should old age so much wound us? &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1STILL_IN_THE_WRONG"></a>STILL IN THE WRONG.</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It has long been my fate to be thought in the <i>wrong</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my fate it continues to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise and the wealthy still make it their song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clerk and the cottar agree.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_23" id="vol1Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There is nothing I do, and there 's nothing I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some one or other thinks wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to please them I find there is no other way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do nothing, and still hold my tongue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Says the free-thinking Sophist, "The times are refined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sense to a wondrous degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your old-fashion'd faith does but fetter the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> not to seek to be free."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says the sage Politician, "Your natural share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of talents would raise you much higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thus to crawl on in your present low sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> in you not to aspire."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Says the Man of the World, "Your dull stoic life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is surely deserving of blame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have children to care for, as well as a wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> not to lay up for them."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says the fat Gormandiser, "To eat and to drink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the true <i>summum bonum</i> of man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is nothing without it, whate'er you may think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> not to live while you can."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Says the new-made Divine, "Your old modes we reject,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor give ourselves trouble about them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is manners and dress that procure us respect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> to look for it without them."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says the grave peevish Saint, in a fit of the spleen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah! me, but your manners are vile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A parson that 's blythe is a shame to be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> in you even to smile."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_24" id="vol1Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Says the Clown, when I tell him to do what he ought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sir, whatever your character be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To obey you in this I will never be brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> to be meddling with me."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says my Wife, when she wants this or that for the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Our matters to ruin must go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your reading and writing is not worth a souse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's <i>wrong</i> to neglect the house so."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus all judge of me by their taste or their wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'm censured by old and by young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in one point agree, though in others they split,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in something I 'm still in the <i>wrong</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let them say on to the end of the song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall make no impression on me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If to differ from such be to be in the <i>wrong</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the <i>wrong</i> I hope always to be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1LIZZY_LIBERTY"></a>LIZZY LIBERTY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen."</i></p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There lives a lassie i' the braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she has on her Sunday's claes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye never saw a lady brawer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So a' the lads are wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_25" id="vol1Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mither ware a tabbit mutch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her father was an honest dyker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's a black-eyed wanton witch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye winna shaw me mony like her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So a' the lads are wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A kindly lass she is, I 'm seer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nae a swankie far nor near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But tries wi' a' his might to win her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're wooing at her, fain would hae her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For kindly though she be, nae doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She manna thole the marriage tether,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But likes to rove and rink about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Highland cowt amo' the heather:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet a' the lads are wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's seven year, and some guid mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Syn Dutch Mynheer made courtship till her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A merchant bluff and fu' o' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' chuffy cheeks, and bags o' siller;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_26" id="vol1Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So Dutch Mynheer was wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but cudna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neist to him came Baltic John,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stept up the brae, and leukit at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne wear his wa', wi' heavy moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in a month or twa forgat her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baltic John was wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but cudna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filthy elf, she 's nae herself, wi' sae mony wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Syne after him cam' Yankie Doodle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae hyne ayont the muckle water;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Yankie 's nae yet worth a boddle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' might and main he would be at her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yankie Doodle 's wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Monkey French is in a roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And swears that nane but he sall hae her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he sud wade through bluid and gore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's nae the king sall keep him frae her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Monkey French is wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_27" id="vol1Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For France, nor yet her Flanders' frien',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Need na think that she 'll come to them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 've casten aff wi' a' their kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grace and guid have flown frae them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A stately chiel they ca' John Bull<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is unco thrang and glaikit wi' her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gin he cud get a' his wull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nane can say what he wad gi'e her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Johnny Bull is wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filthy Ted, she 'll never wed, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even Irish Teague, ayont Belfast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wadna care to speir about her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swears, till he sall breathe his last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 'll never happy be without her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Irish Teague is wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, but canna get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Donald Scot 's the happy lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a' the lave sud try to rate him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan he steps up the brae sae glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She disna ken maist whare to set him:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_28" id="vol1Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Donald Scot is wooing at her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, will maybe get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Donald, tak' a frien's advice—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ken fu' weel ye fain wad hae her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ye are happy, sae be wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, will maybe get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they 're sayin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gin ye had her a' your ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye might na find it mows to guide her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courting her, will maybe get her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cunning quean, she 's ne'er be mine, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_STIPENDLESS_PARSON"></a>THE STIPENDLESS PARSON.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"A Cobbler there was,"</i> &c.</p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy a life does the Parson possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would be no greater, nor fears to be less;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who depends on his book and his gown for support,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And derives no preferment from conclave or court!<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_29" id="vol1Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without glebe or manse settled on him by law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No stipend to sue for, nor vic'rage to draw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In discharge of his office he holds him content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a croft and a garden, for which he pays rent.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a neat little cottage and furniture plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a spare room to welcome a friend now and then;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a good-humour'd wife in his fortune to share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ease him at all times of family care.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a few of the Fathers, the oldest and best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some modern extracts pick'd out from the rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a Bible in Latin, and Hebrew, and Greek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To afford him instruction each day of the week.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What children he has, if any are given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thankfully trusts to the kindness of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To religion and virtue he trains them while young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with such a provision he does them no wrong.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With labour below, and with help from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cares for his flock, and is bless'd with their love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though his living, perhaps, in the main may be scant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is sure, while they have, that he 'll ne'er be in want.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_30" id="vol1Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With no worldly projects nor hurries perplex'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sits in his closet and studies his text;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while he converses with Moses or Paul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He envies not bishop, nor dean in his stall.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not proud to the poor, nor a slave to the great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither factious in church, nor pragmatic in state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He keeps himself quiet within his own sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds work sufficient in preaching and prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In what little dealings he 's forced to transact,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He determines with plainness and candour to act;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the great point on which his ambition is set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to leave at the last neither riches nor debt.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus calmly he steps through the valley of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unencumber'd with wealth, and a stranger to strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bustlings around him unmoved he can look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at home always pleased with his wife and his book.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when, in old age, he drops into the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This humble remembrance he wishes to have:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By good men respected, by the evil oft tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contented he lived, and lamented he died!"<br /></span> +<span class="i18">Derry down, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_31" id="vol1Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_MAN_OF_ROSS"></a>THE MAN OF ROSS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Miss Ross's Reel."</i></p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When fops and fools together prate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er punch or tea, of this or that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What silly poor unmeaning chat<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Does all their talk engross!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nobler theme employs my lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus my honest voice I raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In well-deserved strains to praise<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His lofty soul (would it were mine!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorns every selfish, low design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er was known to repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At any earthly loss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still contented, frank, and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every state, whate'er it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serene and staid we always see<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let misers hug their worldly store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gripe and pinch to make it more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gold and silver's shining ore<br /></span> +<span class="i6">He counts it all but dross:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis better treasure he desires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A surer stock his passion fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mild benevolence inspires<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_32" id="vol1Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When want assails the widow's cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sickness strikes the poor man's hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blasting winds or foggy rot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Augment the farmer's loss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sufferer straight knows where to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his wants and all his woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For glad experience leads him to<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +</div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This Man of Ross I 'll daily sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With vocal note and lyric string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And duly, when I 've drank the king,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He 'll be my second toss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May Heaven its choicest blessings send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On such a man, and such a friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still may all that 's good attend<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +</div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, if you ask about his name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he lives with such a fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed, I 'll say you are to blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For truly, <i>inter nos</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis what belongs to you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all of high or low degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every sphere to try to be<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The worthy Man of Ross.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_33" id="vol1Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1A_SONG_ON_THE_TIMES"></a>A SONG ON THE TIMES.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Broom of the Cowdenknows."</i></p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I began the world first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not as 'tis now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all was plain and simple then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And friends were kind and true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The times that I now see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think the world 's all gone wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what it used to be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were not then high capering heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prick'd up from ear to ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cloaks and caps were rarities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gentle folks to wear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's not an upstart mushroom now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what sets up for taste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a lass in all the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But must be lady-dress'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our young men married then for love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So did our lasses too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And children loved their parents dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As children ought to do:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_34" id="vol1Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For oh, the times are sadly changed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heavy change indeed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For truth and friendship are no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And honesty is fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nothing now prevails but pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among both high and low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strife, and greed, and vanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all that 's minded now:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times! &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I look through the world wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How times and fashions go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It draws the tears from both my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills my heart with woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the times, the weary, weary times!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The times that I now see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish the world were at an end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it will not mend for me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_35" id="vol1Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1WILLIAM_CAMERON"></a>WILLIAM CAMERON.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">William Cameron</span>, 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;<a name="vol1FNanchor_3_3" id="vol1FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> +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."</p> + +<p>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 Ge<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_36" id="vol1Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>neral +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_37" id="vol1Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1AS_OER_THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS_I_HIED"></a>AS O'ER THE HIGHLAND HILLS I HIED.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"As I came in by Auchindoun."</i></p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As o'er the Highland hills I hied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Camerons in array I spied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lochiel's proud standard waving wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all its ancient glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The martial pipe loud pierced the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bard arose, resounding high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their valour, faith, and loyalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shine in Scottish story.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more the trumpet calls to arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaking battle's fierce alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But every hero's bosom warms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With songs of exultation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While brave Lochiel at length regains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through toils of war, his native plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, won by glorious wounds, attains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His high paternal station.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let now the voice of joy prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And echo wide from hill to vale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye warlike clans, arise and hail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your laurell'd chiefs returning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er every mountain, every isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let peace in all her lustre smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And discord ne'er her day defile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sullen shades of mourning.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_38" id="vol1Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">M'Leod, M'Donald, join the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">M'Pherson, Fraser, and M'Lean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all your bounds let gladness reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both prince and patriot praising;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose generous bounty richly pours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams of plenty round your shores;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Scotia's hills their pride restores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her faded honours raising.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let all the joyous banquet share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er let Gothic grandeur dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scowling brow, to overbear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vassal's right invading.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Freedom's conscious sons disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crowd his fawning, timid train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor even own his haughty reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dignity degrading.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye northern chiefs, whose rage unbroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has still repell'd the tyrant's shock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ne'er have bow'd beneath his yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With servile base prostration;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let each now train his trusty band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst foreign foes alone to stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With undivided heart and hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Freedom, King, and Nation.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_39" id="vol1Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1MRS_JOHN_HUNTER"></a>MRS JOHN HUNTER.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Anne Home</span> 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 <i>Lark</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>During the lifetime of her distinguished husband,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_40" id="vol1Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +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 <i>conversazioni</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_41" id="vol1Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_INDIAN_DEATH-SONG"></a>THE INDIAN DEATH-SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glory remains when their lights fade away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the son of Alknomook will never complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No! the son of Alknomook shall never complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the flame rises fast; ye exult in my pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the son of Alknomook can never complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I go to the land where my father is gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy son, O Alknomook! has scorn'd to complain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_MOTHER_BIDS_ME_BIND_MY_HAIR"></a>MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mother bids me bind my hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bands of rosy hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lace my boddice blue.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_42" id="vol1Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For why," she cries, "sit still and weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While others dance and play?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! I scarce can go or creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Lubin is away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis sad to think the days are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When those we love were near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit upon this mossy stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sigh when none can hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And while I spin my flaxen thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing my simple lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The village seems asleep or dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now Lubin is away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4"></a>THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.<a name="vol1FNanchor_4_4" id="vol1FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu! ye streams that smoothly glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through mazy windings o'er the plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll in some lonely cave reside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever mourn my faithful swain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_43" id="vol1Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flower of the forest was my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as the sighing summer's gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle and constant as the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooming as roses in the vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! by Tweed my love did stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me he search'd the banks around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! the sad and fatal day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love, the pride of swains, was drown'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now droops the willow o'er the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale stalks his ghost in yonder grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dire fancy paints him in my dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake, I mourn my hopeless love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_SEASON_COMES_WHEN_FIRST_WE_MET"></a>THE SEASON COMES WHEN FIRST WE MET.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The season comes when first we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you return no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why cannot I the days forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which time can ne'er restore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! days too sweet, too bright to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are you, indeed, for ever past?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fleeting shadows of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In memory I trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fancy stop their rapid flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the past replace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! I wake to endless woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears the fading visions close!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_44" id="vol1Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_TUNEFUL_VOICE_I_STILL_DEPLORE"></a>OH, TUNEFUL VOICE! I STILL DEPLORE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those accents which, though heard no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still vibrate in my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In echo's cave I long to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still would hear the sad farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were doom'd to part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright eyes! O that the task were mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guard the liquid fires that shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round your orbits play—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch them with a vestal's care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feed with smiles a light so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it may ne'er decay!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM" id="vol1DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM"></a>DEAR TO MY HEART AS LIFE'S WARM +STREAM.<a name="vol1FNanchor_5_5" id="vol1FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear to my heart as life's warm stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which animates this mortal clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee I court the waking dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deck with smiles the future day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus beguile the present pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hopes that we shall meet again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet will it be as when the past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twined every joy, and care, and thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er our minds one mantle cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kind affections finely wrought.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_45" id="vol1Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, no! the groundless hope were vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For so we ne'er can meet again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May he who claims thy tender heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserve its love as I have done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, kind and gentle as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If so beloved, thou 'rt fairly won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright may the sacred torch remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cheer thee till we meet again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS" id="vol1THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS"></a>THE LOT OF THOUSANDS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When hope lies dead within the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By secret sorrow close conceal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shrink lest looks or words impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What must not be reveal'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis hard to smile when one would weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speak when one would silent be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wake when one should wish to sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wake to agony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet such the lot by thousands cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wander in this world of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bend beneath the bitter blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save them from despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Nature waits her guests to greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where disappointments cannot come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Time guides, with unerring feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary wanderers home.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_46" id="vol1Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON" id="vol1ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON"></a>ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Alexander</span>, 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cauld kail in Aberdeen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And castocks in Strabogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet I fear they 'll cook o'er soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never warm the cogie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The song is anonymous, as is the version, first published +in Dale's "Scottish Songs," beginning—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And castocks in Strabogie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ilka lad maun hae his lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I maun hae my cogie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_47" id="vol1Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_48" id="vol1Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN" id="vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN"></a>CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And castocks in Strabogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin I hae but a bonnie lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're welcome to your cogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye may sit up a' the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink till it be braid daylight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gi'e me a lass baith clean and tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance the reel o' Bogie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In cotillions the French excel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Bull loves country dances;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Spaniards dance fandangoes well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mynheer an all'mande prances;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In foursome reels the Scots delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At threesomes they dance wondrous light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But twasomes ding a' out o' sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Danced to the reel o' Bogie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, lads, and view your partners weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wale each a blythesome rogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tak this lassie to mysel',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looks sae keen and vogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, piper lads, bang up the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The country fashion is the thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pree their mou's ere we begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance the reel o' Bogie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_49" id="vol1Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now ilka lad has got a lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save yon auld doited fogie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ta'en a fling upon the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they do in Strabogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' the lasses look sae fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We canna think oursel's to hain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they maun hae their come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance the reel o' Bogie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now a' the lads hae done their best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like true men o' Strabogie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll stop a while and tak' a rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tipple out a cogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come now, my lads, and tak your glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try ilk ither to surpass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wishing health to every lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance the reel o' Bogie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_50" id="vol1Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON" id="vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON"></a>MRS GRANT OF CARRON.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs Grant</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 "Ruf<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_51" id="vol1Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>fian'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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_52" id="vol1Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH" id="vol1ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH"></a>ROY'S WIFE OF ALDIVALLOCH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wat ye how she cheated me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I cam' o'er the braes of Balloch!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She vow'd, she swore she wad be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said she lo'ed me best o' onie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! the fickle, faithless quean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's ta'en the carl, and left her Johnnie!<br /></span> +<span class="i13">Roy's wife, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, she was a canty quean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weel could dance the Hieland walloch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How happy I, had she been mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or I been Roy of Aldivalloch!<br /></span> +<span class="i13">Roy's wife, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her hair sae fair, her e'en sae clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonnie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me she ever will be dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she's for ever left her Johnnie!<br /></span> +<span class="i13">Roy's wife, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_53" id="vol1Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ROBERT_COUPER_MD" id="vol1ROBERT_COUPER_MD"></a>ROBERT COUPER, M.D.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr Couper</span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_54" id="vol1Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_55" id="vol1Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1KINRARA" id="vol1KINRARA"></a>KINRARA.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Neil Gow."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Red gleams the sun on yon hill-tap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew sits on the gowan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep murmurs through her glens the Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around Kinrara rowan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where art thou, fairest, kindest lass?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! wert thou but near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gentle soul, thy melting eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would ever, ever cheer me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lav'rock sings among the clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lambs they sport so cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I sit weeping by the birk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O where art thou, my dearie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft may I meet the morning dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang greet till I be weary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canna, winna, gentle maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canna be my dearie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_SHEELING" id="vol1THE_SHEELING"></a>THE SHEELING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, grand bounds the deer o'er the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smooth skims the hare o'er the plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At noon, the cool shade by the fountain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is sweet to the lass and her swain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_56" id="vol1Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The ev'ning sits down dark and dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, yon 's the loud joys of the ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laird sings his dogs and his dearie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, he kens na his singin' ava.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But oh, my dear lassie, when wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What 's the deer and the maukin to me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm soughin' wild drives me to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the plaid shelters baith me and thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild warld then may be reeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride and riches may lift up their e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My plaid haps us baith in the sheeling—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 's a' to my lassie and me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6" id="vol1THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6"></a>THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.<a name="vol1FNanchor_6_6" id="vol1FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, mind ye the ewe-bughts, my Marion?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was ther I forgather'd wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun smiled sweet ower the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saft sough'd the leaf on the tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wast fair, thou wast bonnie, my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovesome thy rising breast-bane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew sat in gems ower thy ringlets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the thorn when we were alane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There we loved, there thou promised, my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul—a' thy beauties were mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crouse we skipt to the ha' i' the gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But few were my slumbers and thine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_57" id="vol1Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fell war tore me lang frae thee, Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang wat'ry and red was my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride o' the field but inflamed me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To return mair worthy o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, aye art thou lovely, my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heart bounds in kindness to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, oh, here is my bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That languish'd, my Marion, for thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_58" id="vol1Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1LADY_ANNE_BARNARD" id="vol1LADY_ANNE_BARNARD"></a>LADY ANNE BARNARD.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Anne Lindsay</span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_59" id="vol1Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +melody,<a name="vol1FNanchor_7_7" id="vol1FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_60" id="vol1Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>réunions</i>, +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<a name="vol1FNanchor_8_8" id="vol1FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_61" id="vol1Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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;<a name="vol1FNanchor_9_9" id="vol1FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> a romance had been founded upon it by a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_62" id="vol1Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair it was come, and she thought it content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she droop'd like a snowdrop broke down by the hail!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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 <i>personal friend</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_63" id="vol1Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scots Magazine</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_64" id="vol1Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1AULD_ROBIN_GRAY" id="vol1AULD_ROBIN_GRAY"></a>AULD ROBIN GRAY.</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye 's come hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the warld to rest are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But saving a crown-piece, he had naething beside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crown and the pound they were baith for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my father brake his arm, and the cow was stown away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mither she fell sick—my Jamie at the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father couldna wark, and my mither couldna spin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said, "Jeanie, oh, for their sakes, will ye no marry me?"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_65" id="vol1Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart it said na, and I look'd for Jamie back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ship was a wrack—why didna Jamie dee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or why am I spared to cry, Wae is me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father urged me sair—my mither didna speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gied him my hand—my heart was in the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hadna been his wife a week but only four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he said, "I'm come hame, love, to marry thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gied him a kiss, and bade him gang awa';—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish that I were dead, but I'm nae like to dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gang like a ghaist, and carena much to spin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh, Robin Gray, he is kind to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="vol1Part_II" id="vol1Part_II"></a>Part II.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spring had pass'd over, 'twas summer nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, trembling, were scatter'd the leaves in the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, winter," cried Jeanie, "we kindly agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wae looks the sun when he shines upon me."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_66" id="vol1Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair it was come, and she thought it content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thought it content, but her cheek was grown pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she droop'd like a snow-drop broke down by the hail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her father was sad, and her mother was wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But silent and thoughtfu' was auld Robin Gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wander'd his lane, and his face was as lean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the side of a brae where the torrents have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He gaed to his bed, but nae physic would take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often he said, "It is best, for her sake!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Jeanie supported his head as he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears trickled down upon auld Robin Gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, greet nae mair, Jeanie!" said he, wi' a groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I 'm nae worth your sorrow—the truth maun be known;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send round for your neighbours—my hour it draws near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 've that to tell that it 's fit a' should hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 've wrang'd her," he said, "but I kent it o'er late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've wrang'd her, and sorrow is speeding my date;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a 's for the best, since my death will soon free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A faithfu' young heart, that was ill match'd wi' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I lo'ed and I courted her mony a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The auld folks were for me, but still she said nay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kentna o' Jamie, nor yet o' her vow;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mercy forgi'e me, 'twas I stole the cow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I cared not for crummie, I thought but o' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought it was crummie stood 'twixt you and me;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_67" id="vol1Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While she fed your parents, oh! did you not say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never would marry wi' auld Robin Gray?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But sickness at hame, and want at the door—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You gi'ed me your hand, while your heart it was sore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw it was sore, why took I her hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that was a deed to my shame o'er the land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How truth, soon or late, comes to open daylight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jamie cam' back, and your cheek it grew white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Jeanie, I 'm thankfu'—I 'm thankfu' to dee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is Jamie come here yet?" and Jamie he saw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I 've injured you sair, lad, so I leave you my a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waste no time, my dauties, in mournin' for me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They kiss'd his cauld hands, and a smile o'er his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd hopefu' of being accepted by grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, doubtna," said Jamie, "forgi'en he will be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha wadna be tempted, my love, to win thee?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first days were dowie, while time slipt awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But saddest and sairest to Jeanie of a'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was thinking she couldna be honest and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' tears in her e'e, while her heart was sae light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But nae guile had she, and her sorrow away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnie wee bairn—the auld folks by the fire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, now she has a' that her heart can desire!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_68" id="vol1Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nae questions he spier'd her concerning her health,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He look'd at her often, but aye 'twas by stealth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his heart it grew grit, and, sighin', he feign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gang to the door to see if it rain'd."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SONG" id="vol1SONG"></a>SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why tarries my love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! where does he rove?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love is long absent from me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come hither, my dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll write to my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And send him a letter by thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To find him, swift fly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The letter I 'll tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secure to thy leg with a string.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! not to my leg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair lady, I beg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fasten it under my wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her dove she did deck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She drew o'er his neck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bell and a collar so gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tied to his wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scroll with a string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then kiss'd him and sent him away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_69" id="vol1Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It blew and it rain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pigeon disdain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek shelter; undaunted he flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till wet was his wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And painful his string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So heavy the letter it grew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It flew all around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Colin he found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then perch'd on his head with the prize;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart, while he reads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tenderness bleeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the pigeon that flutters and dies.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_70" id="vol1Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JOHN_TAIT"></a>JOHN TAIT.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">John Tait</span> was, in early life, devoted to the composition +of poetry. In Ruddiman's <i>Edinburgh Weekly Magazine</i> +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. <span class="smcap">Tait</span>, 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_71" id="vol1Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetly the <i>wood-pigeon coo'd from the tree</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the foot of a rock, where the <i>wild rose was growing</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The song, it may be added, has in several collections +been erroneously attributed to John Home, author of +the tragedy of "Douglas."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_72" id="vol1Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_BANKS_OF_THE_DEE"></a>THE BANKS OF THE DEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the foot of a rock where the river was flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there first I gain'd the affection and favour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now he 's gone from me, and left me thus mourning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quell the proud rebels—for valiant is he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, ah! there 's no hope of his speedy returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander again on the banks of the Dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's gone, hapless youth! o'er the rude roaring billows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me to wander 'mongst those once loved willows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when he returns, with such care I 'll watch o'er him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lambs on its banks shall again be seen playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_73" id="vol1Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HECTOR_MACNEILL"></a>HECTOR MACNEILL.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Hector Macneill</span> 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."<a name="vol1FNanchor_10_10" id="vol1FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_74" id="vol1Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_75" id="vol1Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_76" id="vol1Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +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 unfortu<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_77" id="vol1Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>nate +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.</p> + +<p>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 hos<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_78" id="vol1Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>pitable +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_79" id="vol1Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +as the last effort of a dying poet, obtained a reception +fully equal to its merits.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_80" id="vol1Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +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."<a name="vol1FNanchor_11_11" id="vol1FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_81" id="vol1Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_82" id="vol1Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12"></a>MARY OF CASTLECARY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_12_12" id="vol1FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Bonnie Dundee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, saw ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my true love, down on yon lee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sought she the burnie whare flow'rs the haw-tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milk-white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark is the blue o' her saft rolling e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare could my wee thing wander frae me?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor saw I your true love, down on yon lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I met my bonnie thing, late in the gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down by the burnie whare flow'rs the haw-tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milk-white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was na my true love, ye met by the tree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud is her leal heart—modest her nature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never lo'ed ony till ance she lo'ed me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_83" id="vol1Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her name it is Mary; she 's frae Castlecary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as your face is, were 't fifty times fairer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young bragger, she ne'er would gi'e kisses to thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It was, then, your Mary; she 's frae Castlecary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was, then, your true love I met by the tree;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild flash'd the fire frae his red rolling e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ye 's rue sair, this morning, your boasts and your scorning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defend, ye fause traitor! fu' loudly ye lie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Awa' wi' beguiling," cried the youth, smiling;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aff went the bonnet; the lint-white locks flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair stood the lo'ed maid wi' the dark rolling e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is it my wee thing? is it mine ain thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it my true love here that I see?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, Jamie, forgi'e me! your heart 's constant to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_BOY_TAMMY13"></a>MY BOY, TAMMY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_13_13" id="vol1FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whare hae ye been a' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boy, Tammy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare hae ye been a' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boy, Tammy?"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_84" id="vol1Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"I 've been by burn and flow'ry brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meadow green, and mountain gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courting o' this young thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just come frae her mammy."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And whare got ye that young thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boy, Tammy?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I gat her down in yonder howe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling on a broomy knowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herding a wee lamb and ewe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her poor mammy."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What said ye to the bonnie bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boy, Tammy?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I praised her een, sae bonny blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dimpled cheek, and cherry mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pree'd it aft, as ye may true;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said she 'd tell her mammy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I held her to my beating heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My young, my smiling lammie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I hae a house, it cost me dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've wealth o' plenishin' and gear;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'se get it a', were 't ten times mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ye will leave your mammy.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The smile gaed aff her bonnie face—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I maunna leave my mammy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's gi'en me meat, she 's gi'en me claise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's been my comfort a' my days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father's death brought mony waes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna leave my mammy.'"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_85" id="vol1Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We 'll tak her hame, and mak her fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind-hearted lammie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll gi'e her meat, we 'll gi'e her claise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll be her comfort a' her days."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee thing gi'es her hand and says—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There! gang and ask my mammy."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Has she been to kirk wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boy, Tammy?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She has been to kirk wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tear was in her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! she 's but a young thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just come frae her mammy."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14"></a>OH, TELL ME HOW FOR TO WOO!<a name="vol1FNanchor_14_14" id="vol1FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Bonnie Dundee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oh, tell me, bonnie young lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, tell me how for to woo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, tell me, bonnie sweet lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, tell me how for to woo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, maun I roose your cheeks like the morning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lips, like the roses, fresh moisten'd wi' dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, maun I roose your een's pawkie scorning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me how for to woo!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_86" id="vol1Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far hae I wander'd to see thee, dear lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far hae I ventured across the saut sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far hae I travell'd ower moorland and mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Houseless and weary, sleep'd cauld on the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er hae I tried yet to mak love to onie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ne'er lo'ed I onie till ance I lo'ed you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we 're alane in the green-wood sae bonnie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me how for to woo!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What care I for your wand'ring, young laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I for your crossing the sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was na for naething ye left poor young Peggie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was for my tocher ye cam' to court me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, hae ye gowd to busk me aye gaudie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ribbons, and perlins, and breast-knots enew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A house that is canty, with wealth in 't, my laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without this ye never need try for to woo."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I hae na gowd to busk ye aye gaudie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna buy ribbons and perlins enew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've naething to brag o' house, or o' plenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've little to gi'e, but a heart that is true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cam' na for tocher—I ne'er heard o' onie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never lo'ed Peggy, nor e'er brak my vow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd, puir fule! for a face fause as bonnie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I little thocht this was the way for to woo."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Our laird has fine houses, and guineas o' gowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's youthfu', he 's blooming, and comely to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leddies are a' ga'en wud for the wooer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, ilka e'ening, he leaves them for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, saft in the gloaming, his love he discloses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saftly, yestreen, as I milked my cow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He swore that my breath it was sweeter than roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the gait hame he did naething but woo."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_87" id="vol1Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, Jenny! the young laird may brag o' his siller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His houses, his lands, and his lordly degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His speeches for <i>true love</i> may drap sweet as honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But trust me, dear Jenny, he ne'er lo'ed like <i>me</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wooin' o' gentry are fine words o' fashion—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faster they fa' as the heart is least true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dumb look o' love 's aft the best proof o' passion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart that feels maist is the least fit to woo."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hae na ye roosed my cheeks like the morning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae na ye roosed my cherry-red mou'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae na ye come ower sea, moor, and mountain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mair, Johnnie, need ye to woo?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far ye wander'd, I ken, my dear laddie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that ye 've found me, there 's nae cause to rue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' health we 'll hae plenty—I 'll never gang gaudie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er wish'd for mair than a heart that is true."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She hid her fair face in her true lover's bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The saft tear o' transport fill'd ilk lover's e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burnie ran sweet by their side as they sabbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet sang the mavis aboon on the tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clasp'd her, he press'd her, and ca'd her his hinny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aften he tasted her honey-sweet mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye, 'tween ilk kiss, she sigh'd to her Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, laddie! weel can ye woo."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1LASSIE_WI_THE_GOWDEN_HAIR"></a>LASSIE WI' THE GOWDEN HAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Lassie wi' the gowden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silken snood, and face sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lassie wi' the yellow hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thinkna to deceive me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_88" id="vol1Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Lassie wi' the gowden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flattering smile, and face sae fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fare ye weel! for never mair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Johnnie will believe ye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Mary Bawn, ye 'll nae mair deceive me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Smiling, twice ye made me troo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice, poor fool! I turn'd to woo;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now I 've sworn to leave ye.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice, poor fool! I 've learn'd to rue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come ye yet to mak me troo?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thrice ye 'll ne'er deceive me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Mary Bawn; thrice ye 'll ne'er deceive me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Mary saw him turn to part;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep his words sank in her heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon the tears began to start—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Johnnie, will ye leave me?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon the tears began to start,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grit and gritter grew his heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Yet a word before we part,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love could ne'er deceive ye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Johnnie doo, Johnnie doo, Johnnie doo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Johnnie doo—love could ne'er deceive ye."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Johnnie took a parting keek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saw the tears drap owre her cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale she stood, but couldna speak—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mary 's cured o' smiling.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_89" id="vol1Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Johnnie took anither keek—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beauty's rose has left her cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale she stands, and canna speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This is nae beguiling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, dear Mary Bawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no; Mary Bawn—love has nae beguiling.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE" id="vol1COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE"></a>COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Johnnie M'Gill."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come under my plaidie, the night 's gaun to fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's room in 't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's room in 't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, auld Donald, gae 'wa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, I 'll no sit beside ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may be my gutcher;—auld Donald, gae 'wa.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm gaun to meet Johnnie, he 's young and he 's bonnie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig and fu' braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cheek 's like the new rose, his brow 's like the snaw."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your Jock 's but a gowk, and has naething ava;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hale o' his pack he has now on his back—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_90" id="vol1Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Be frank now and kindly; I 'll busk ye aye finely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kirk or to market they 'll few gang sae braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My father 's aye tauld me, my mither and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'd mak a gude husband, and keep me aye braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's true I lo'e Johnnie, he 's gude and he 's bonnie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, waes me! ye ken he has naething ava.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hae little tocher; you 've made a gude offer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm now mair than twenty—my time is but sma';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae gi'e me your plaidie, I 'll creep in beside ye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thocht ye 'd been aulder than threescore and twa."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare Johnnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day was appointed, his proud heart it dunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, thowless, he tint his gate 'mang the deep snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The owlet was screamin' while Johnnie cried, "Women<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad marry Auld Nick if he 'd keep them aye braw."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15"></a>I LO'ED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_15_15" id="vol1FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lo'ed ne'er a lassie but me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's willing to mak' me his ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his ain I am willing to be.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_91" id="vol1Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He has coft me a rokelay o' blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a pair o' mittens o' green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The price was a kiss o' my mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I paid him the debt yestreen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let ithers brag weel o' their gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their land and their lordly degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I carena for aught but my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he 's ilka thing lordly to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His words are sae sugar'd and sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sense drives ilk fear far awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I listen, poor fool! and I greet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear lassie," he cries, wi' a jeer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though we 've little to brag o', near fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What 's gowd to a heart that is wae?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our laird has baith honours and wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet see how he 's dwining wi' care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we, though we 've naething but health,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are cantie and leal evermair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Marion! the heart that is true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has something mair costly than gear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk e'en it has naething to rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk morn it has naething to fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye warldlings! gae hoard up your store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tremble for fear aught ye tyne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While here in my arms I lock mine!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He ends wi' a kiss and a smile—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wae 's me! can I tak' it amiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My laddie 's unpractised in guile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's free aye to daut and to kiss!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_92" id="vol1Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ye lasses wha lo'e to torment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Play your pranks—I hae gi'en my consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this nicht I 'm Jamie's for life!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1DONALD_AND_FLORA16" id="vol1DONALD_AND_FLORA16"></a>DONALD AND FLORA.<a name="vol1FNanchor_16_16" id="vol1FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When merry hearts were gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careless of aught but play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Flora slipt away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadd'ning to Mora;<a name="vol1FNanchor_17_17" id="vol1FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose flow'd her yellow hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick heaved her bosom bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to the troubled air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She vented her sorrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Loud howls the stormy wist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, cold is winter's blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste, then, O Donald, haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste to thy Flora!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twice twelve long months are o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since on a foreign shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You promised to fight no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But meet me in Mora."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_93" id="vol1Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Where now is Donald dear?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maids cry with taunting sneer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Say, is he still sincere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his loved Flora?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parents upbraid my moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each heart is turn'd to stone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Ah, Flora! thou 'rt now alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friendless in Mora!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, then, O come away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Donald, no longer stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where can my rover stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his loved Flora!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! sure he ne'er can be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False to his vows and me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Heaven!—is not yonder he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounding o'er Mora!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Never, ah! wretched fair!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh'd the sad messenger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Never shall Donald mair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet his loved Flora!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold as yon mountain snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Donald thy love lies low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sent me to soothe thy woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping in Mora.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well fought our gallant men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Saratoga's plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice fled the hostile train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From British glory.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_94" id="vol1Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! though our foes did flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad was such victory—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth, love, and loyalty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell far from Mora.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Here, take this love-wrought plaid,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Donald, expiring, said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Give it to yon dear maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drooping in Mora.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her, O Allan! tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Donald thus bravely fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that in his last farewell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought on his Flora.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mute stood the trembling fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speechless with wild despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, striking her bosom bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh'd out, "Poor Flora!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, Donald! ah, well-a-day!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was all the fond heart could say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length the sound died away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feebly in Mora.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_95" id="vol1Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18" id="vol1MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18"></a>MY LUVE'S IN GERMANY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_18_18" id="vol1FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Ye Jacobites by name."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve 's in Germanie, send him hame, send him hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My luve 's in Germanie, send him hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My luve 's in Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Fighting brave for royalty:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He may ne'er his Jeanie see—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Send him hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's as brave as brave can be—send him hame, send him hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's as brave as brave can be—send him hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He 's as brave as brave can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He wad rather fa' than flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">His life is dear to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Send him hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, bonnie dame, bonnie dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, bonnie dame;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Your luve ne'er learnt to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But he fell in Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In the cause of royalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Bonnie dame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 'll ne'er come ower the sea—Willie 's slain, Willie 's slain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll ne'er come ower the sea—Willie 's gane!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_96" id="vol1Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i8">He 'll ne'er come ower the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To his love and ain countrie:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">This warld 's nae mair for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Willie 's gane!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19" id="vol1DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19"></a>DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_19_19" id="vol1FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Clunie's Reel."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll tak a stick into my hand, and come again and see thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far 's the gate ye hae to gang; dark 's the night, and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, stay this night wi' your love, and dinna gang and leave me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It 's but a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_97" id="vol1Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But a night and hauf a day that I 'll leave my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er the sun gaes west the loch, I 'll come again and see thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a' the lave are sound asleep, I 'm dull and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the lee-lang night I 'm sad, wi' thinking on my dearie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er the sun gaes out o' sight, I 'll come again and see thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the winds and waves do roar, I am wae and drearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gin ye lo'e me as ye say, ye winna gang and leave me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en let the world gang as it will, I 'll stay at hame and cheer ye."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_98" id="vol1Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Frae his hand he coost his stick; "I winna gang and leave thee;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threw his plaid into the neuk; "Never can I grieve thee;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew his boots, and flang them by; cried, "My lass, be cheerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll kiss the tear frae aff thy cheek, and never leave my dearie."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_99" id="vol1Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN" id="vol1MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN"></a>MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_100" id="vol1Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>On a small farm which she had rented, in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_101" id="vol1Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>From the rural retirement of Gartur, she soon removed +to the town of Stirling; but in 1810, as her circum<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_102" id="vol1Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>stances +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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_103" id="vol1Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_104" id="vol1Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE" id="vol1OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE"></a>OH, WHERE, TELL ME WHERE?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He 's gone, with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's gone, with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He dwelt beneath the holly-trees, beside the rapid Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a blessing follow'd him, the day he went away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dwelt beneath the holly-trees, beside the rapid Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a blessing follow'd him, the day he went away."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_105" id="vol1Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a plaid across the manly breast that yet shall wear a star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a plaid across the manly breast that yet shall wear a star."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Suppose, ah, suppose, that some cruel, cruel wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should pierce your Highland laddie, and all your hopes confound!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit of a Highland chief would lighten in his eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for his king and country dear with pleasure he would die!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, wide through all our Highland hills, his warlike name resounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, wide through all our Highland hills, his warlike name resounds."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_106" id="vol1Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20" id="vol1OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20"></a>OH, MY LOVE, LEAVE ME NOT!<a name="vol1FNanchor_20_20" id="vol1FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bealach na Gharraidh."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love, leave me not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love, leave me not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love, leave me not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely and weary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could you but stay a while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my fond fears beguile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I yet once more could smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightsome and cheery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night, with her darkest shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempests that roar aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunders that burst the cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should I fear ye?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till the sad hour we part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear cannot make me start;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief cannot break my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thou art near me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should you forsake my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day would to me be night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad, I would shun its light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heartless and weary.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_107" id="vol1Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JOHN_MAYNE" id="vol1JOHN_MAYNE"></a>JOHN MAYNE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Dumfries Journal</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>walkingshaw</i>, or an an<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_108" id="vol1Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>cient +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.</p> + +<p>In 1780, in the pages of Ruddiman's <i>Weekly Magazine</i>, +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.</p> + +<p>In London, Mayne was first employed as printer, and +subsequently became joint-editor and proprietor, along +with Dr Tilloch, of the <i>Star</i> evening newspaper. With +this journal he retained a connexion till his death, which +took place at London on the 14th of March 1836.</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_21_21" id="vol1FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_109" id="vol1Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +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.<a name="vol1FNanchor_22_22" id="vol1FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_110" id="vol1Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1LOGAN_BRAES23" id="vol1LOGAN_BRAES23"></a>LOGAN BRAES.<a name="vol1FNanchor_23_23" id="vol1FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've herded sheep, or gather'd slaes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' my dear lad, on Logan braes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, waes my heart! thae days are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I wi' grief may herd alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my dear lad maun face his faes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far frae me and Logan braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae mair at Logan kirk will he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atween the preachings meet wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet wi' me, or, whan it's mirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weel may sing thae days are gane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae kirk and fair I come alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my dear lad maun face his faes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far frae me and Logan braes.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_111" id="vol1Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At e'en, when hope amaist is gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I daunder dowie and forlane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit alane, beneath the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where aft he kept his tryste wi' me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, could I see thae days again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lover skaithless, and my ain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved by friends, revered by faes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'd live in bliss on Logan braes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24" id="vol1HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24"></a>HELEN OF KIRKCONNEL.<a name="vol1FNanchor_24_24" id="vol1FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were where Helen lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like an angel, to the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still seems to beckon me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me she lived, for me she sigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me she wish'd to be a bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me in life's sweet morn she died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fair Kirkconnel-Lee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where Kirtle waters gently wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Helen on my arm reclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rival with a ruthless mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took deadly aim at me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_112" id="vol1Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My love, to disappoint the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush'd in between me and the blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now her corse is lying low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fair Kirkconnel-Lee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though Heaven forbids my wrath to swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I curse the hand by which she fell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fiend who made my heaven a hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tore my love from me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if, when all the graces shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! if on earth there 's aught divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Helen! all these charms were thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They centred all in thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! what avails it that, amain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I clove the assassin's head in twain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No peace of mind, my Helen slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No resting-place for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see her spirit in the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the shriek of wild despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When murder laid her bosom bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fair Kirkconnel-Lee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! when I 'm sleeping in my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er my head the rank weeds wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May He who life and spirit gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unite my love and me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then from this world of doubts and sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul on wings of peace shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, joining Helen in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget Kirkconnel-Lee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_113" id="vol1Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG" id="vol1THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG"></a>THE WINTER SAT LANG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The winter sat lang on the spring o' the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our seedtime was late, and our mailing was dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mither tint her heart when she look'd on us a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we thought upon those that were farest awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, were they but here that are farest awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, were they but here that are dear to us a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our cares would seem light and our sorrow but sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they were but here that are far frae us a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last week, when our hopes were o'erclouded wi' fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nae ane at hame the dull prospect to cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Johnnie has written, frae far awa' parts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A letter that lightens and hauds up our hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says, "My dear mither, though I be awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In love and affection I 'm still wi' ye a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I hae a being ye 'se aye hae a ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' plenty to keep out the frost and the snaw."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mither, o'erjoy'd at this change in her state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bairn she doated on early and late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gi'es thanks night and day to the Giver of a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's been naething unworthy o' him that 's awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then here is to them that are far frae us a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friend that ne'er fail'd us, though farest awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Health, peace, and prosperity wait on us a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a blithe comin' hame to the friend that 's awa'!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_114" id="vol1Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_JOHNNIE" id="vol1MY_JOHNNIE"></a>MY JOHNNIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Johnnie's Gray Breeks."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jenny's heart was frank and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wooers she had mony, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sang was aye, "Of a' I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commend me to my Johnnie yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ear' and late, he has sic gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mak' a body cheerie, that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish to be, before I dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ain kind dearie yet."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Jenny's face was fu' o' grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shape was sma' and genty-like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And few or nane in a' the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had gowd or gear mair plenty, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though war's alarms, and Johnnie's charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had gart her oft look eerie, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sung wi' glee, "I hope to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Johnnie's ain dearie yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What though he's now gane far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare guns and cannons rattle, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless my Johnnie chance to fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some uncanny battle, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he return my breast will burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' love that weel may cheer me yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I hope to see, before I dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bairns to him endear me yet."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_115" id="vol1Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED" id="vol1THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED"></a>THE TROOPS WERE EMBARKED.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The troops were all embark'd on board,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ships were under weigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loving wives, and maids adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were weeping round the bay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They parted from their dearest friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all their heart desires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Rosabel to Heaven commends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man her soul admires!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For him she fled from soft repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renounced a parent's care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sails to crush his country's foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wanders in despair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A seraph in an infant's frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reclined upon her arm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrow in the lovely dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now heighten'd every charm:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She thought, if fortune had but smiled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thought upon her dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when she look'd upon his child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, then ran many a tear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah! who will watch thee as thou sleep'st?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who 'll sing a lullaby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or rock thy cradle when thou weep'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I should chance to die?"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_116" id="vol1Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On board the ship, resign'd to fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet planning joys to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her love in silent sorrow sate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a broken drum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw her lonely on the beach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw her on the strand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far as human eye can reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw her wave her hand!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Rosabel! though forced to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thee my soul shall dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven, who pities human woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will comfort Rosabel!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_117" id="vol1Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JOHN_HAMILTON" id="vol1JOHN_HAMILTON"></a>JOHN HAMILTON.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_118" id="vol1Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN" id="vol1THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN"></a>THE RANTIN' HIGHLANDMAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To flit a tether'd ewe and lamb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met, as skiffin' ower the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A jolly, rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His shape was neat, wi' feature sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ilka smile my favour wan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er had seen sae braw a lad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this young rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said, "My dear, ye 're sune asteer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cam' ye to hear the lav'rock's sang?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, wad ye gang and wed wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wed a rantin' Highlandman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In summer days, on flow'ry braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When frisky are the ewe and lamb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'se row ye in my tartan plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be your rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wi' heather bells, that sweetly smell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll deck your hair, sae fair and lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ye 'll consent to scour the bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' me, a rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll big a cot, and buy a stock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne do the best that e'er we can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come, my dear, ye needna fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trust a rantin' Highlandman."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_119" id="vol1Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His words, sae sweet, gaed to my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fain I wad hae gi'en my han';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet durstna, lest my mither should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dislike a rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I expect he will come back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, though my kin should scauld and ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll ower the hill, or whare he will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' my young rantin' Highlandman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25" id="vol1UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25"></a>UP IN THE MORNIN' EARLY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_25_25" id="vol1FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drift is drifting sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sheep are cow'rin' in the heuch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sirs, it 's winter fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, up in the mornin's no for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the mornin' early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather gae supperless to my bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than rise in the mornin' early.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud roars the blast amang the woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tirls the branches barely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hill and house hear how it thuds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frost is nippin' sairly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, up in the mornin's no for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the mornin' early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit a' nicht wad better agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than rise in the mornin' early.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_120" id="vol1Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun peeps ower yon southland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like ony timorous carlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just blinks a wee, then sinks again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that we find severely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, up in the mornin's no for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the mornin' early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When snaw blaws in at the chimley cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha 'd rise in the mornin' early?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor things! they suffer sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cauldrife quarters a' the nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' day they feed but sparely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, up in the mornin's no for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the mornin' early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pennyless purse I wad rather dree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than rise in the mornin' early.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cosie house and canty wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye keep a body cheerly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pantries stowed wi' meat and drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They answer unco rarely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But up in the mornin'—na, na, na!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the mornin' early!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gowans maun glint on bank and brae<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I rise in the mornin' early.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_121" id="vol1Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26" id="vol1GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26"></a>GO TO BERWICK, JOHNNIE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_26_26" id="vol1FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go to Berwick, Johnnie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring her frae the Border;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon sweet bonnie lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her gae nae farther.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">English loons will twine ye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the lovely treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we 'll let them ken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sword wi' them we 'll measure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go to Berwick, Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And regain your honour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drive them ower the Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show our Scottish banner.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am Rob, the King,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye are Jock, my brither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, before we lose her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll a' there thegither.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF" id="vol1MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF"></a>MISS FORBES' FAREWELL TO BANFF.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ye fields an' meadows green!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blest retreats of peace an' love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft have I, silent, stolen from hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my young swain a while to rove.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_122" id="vol1Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet was our walk, more sweet our talk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the beauties of the spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aft we 'd lean us on a bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the feather'd warblers sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The azure sky, the hills around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave double beauty to the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty spires of Banff in view—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side the waving grain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tales of love my Jamie told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such a saft an' moving strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have so engaged my tender heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm loth to leave the place again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if the Fates will be sae kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As favour my return once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For to enjoy the peace of mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In those retreats I had before:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, farewell, Banff! the nimble steeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do bear me hence—I must away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet time, perhaps, may bring me back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To part nae mair from scenes so gay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY" id="vol1TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY"></a>TELL ME, JESSIE, TELL ME WHY?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me, Jessie, tell me why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fond suit you still deny?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is your bosom cold as snow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did you never feel for woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can you hear, without a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him complain who for you could die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you ever shed a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear me, Jessie, hear, O hear!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_123" id="vol1Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life to me is not more dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the hour brings Jessie here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death so much I do not fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the parting moment near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summer smiles are not so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bloom upon your cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the crystal dew so clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As your eyes to me appear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These are part of Jessie's charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the bosom ever warms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the charms by which I 'm stung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, O Jessie, from thy tongue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jessie, be no longer coy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me taste a lover's joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With your hand remove the dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heal the wound that 's in my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_HAWTHORN" id="vol1THE_HAWTHORN"></a>THE HAWTHORN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met with young Jamie, wh'as taking the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He ask'd me to stay with him, and indeed he did prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said he had loved me both long and sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That none on the green was so gentle and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I listen'd with pleasure to Jamie's tender tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That blooms in the valley, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_124" id="vol1Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, haste," says he, "to hear the birds in the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How charming their song, and enticing to love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The briers that with roses perfume the passing gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meet the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale"—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That blooms in the valley, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His words were so moving, and looks soft and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convinced me the youth had nae guile in his mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, too, confess'd him the flower of the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That blooms in the valley, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet I oft bade him go, for I could no longer stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave me he would not, nor let me away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still pressing his suit, and at last did prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That blooms in the valley, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now tell me, ye maidens, how could I refuse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His words were so sweet, and so binding his vows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We went and were married, and Jamie loves me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27" id="vol1OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27"></a>OH, BLAW, YE WESTLIN' WINDS!<a name="vol1FNanchor_27_27" id="vol1FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds, blaw saft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the leafy trees!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring hame the laden bees;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_125" id="vol1Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And bring the lassie back to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 's aye sae neat and clean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae blink of her wad banish care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae lovely is my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What sighs and vows, amang the knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae pass'd atween us twa!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fain to meet, how wae to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day she gaed awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Powers aboon can only ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom the heart is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nane can be sae dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my sweet, lovely Jean.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_126" id="vol1Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JOANNA_BAILLIE" id="vol1JOANNA_BAILLIE"></a>JOANNA BAILLIE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 subse<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_127" id="vol1Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>quently +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_128" id="vol1Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +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."<a name="vol1FNanchor_28_28" id="vol1FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_129" id="vol1Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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:<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_130" id="vol1Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Or, if to touch such chord be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restore the ancient tragic line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And emulate the notes that wrung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the wild harp, which silent hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By silver Avon's holy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till twice a hundred years roll'd o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she, the bold Enchantress, came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fearless hand and heart on flame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swept it with a kindred measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Montfort's hate and Basil's love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakening at the inspiréd strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To Joanna, Scott inscribed his fragmental drama of +"Macduff's Cross," which was included in a Miscellany +published by her in 1823.</p> + +<p>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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"Within <i>her</i> mighty page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each tyrant passion shews his woe and rage."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_131" id="vol1Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_132" id="vol1Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN" id="vol1THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN"></a>THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft tapping, at eve, to her window I came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud bay'd the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For shame, silly Lightfoot; what is it to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threadbare is my coat, and my hosen are torn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The farmer rides proudly to market or fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clerk, at the alehouse, still claims the great chair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of all our proud fellows the proudest I 'll be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For blythe as the urchin at holiday play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meek as the matron in mantle of gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trim as the lady of gentle degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_133" id="vol1Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT" id="vol1GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT"></a>GOOD NIGHT, GOOD NIGHT!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is sunk, the day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en stars are setting one by one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor torch nor taper longer may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eke out the pleasures of the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since, in social glee's despite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It needs must be, Good night, good night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bride into her bower is sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ribbald rhyme and jesting spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lover's whisper'd words and few<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have bade the bashful maid adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dancing-floor is silent quite—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No foot bounds there, Good night, good night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lady in her curtain'd bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The herdsman in his wattled shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clansman in the heather'd hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet sleep be with you, one and all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We part in hope of days as bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this now gone—Good night, good night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet sleep be with us, one and all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if upon its stillness fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The visions of a busy brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll have our pleasure o'er again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warm the heart, to charm the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay dreams to all! Good night, good night!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_134" id="vol1Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE" id="vol1THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE"></a>THOUGH RICHER SWAINS THY LOVE +PURSUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though richer swains thy love pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Sunday gear and bonnets new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every fair before thee lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their silken gifts, with colours gay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They love thee not, alas! so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who sighs, and dare not tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who haunts thy dwelling, night and noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I grieve not for my wayward lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My empty folds, my roofless cot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hateful pity, proudly shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor altered looks, nor friendship flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet my dog, with lanken sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who by his master still abides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how wilt thou prefer my boon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29" id="vol1POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29"></a>POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_29_29" id="vol1FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Todlin' Hame."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When white was my owrelay as foam of the linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And siller was chinking my pouches within;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my lambkins were bleating on meadow and brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I gaed to my love in new cleeding sae gay—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kind was she, and my friends were free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But poverty parts gude companie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_135" id="vol1Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How swift pass'd the minutes and hours of delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The piper play'd cheerly, the cruisie burn'd bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And link'd in my hand was the maiden sae dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she footed the floor in her holiday gear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Woe is me! and can it then be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That poverty parts sic companie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We met in the sunshine, we met in the mirk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sound of her voice, and the blinks of her een,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cheering and life of my bosom have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaves frae the tree at Martinmas flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And poverty parts sweet companie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At bridal and in fair I 've braced me wi' pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>bruse</i> I hae won, and a kiss of the bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud was the laughter, gay fellows among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I utter'd my banter, or chorus'd my song.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dowie to dree are jesting and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When poverty parts gude companie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wherever I gaed the blythe lasses smiled sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mithers and aunties were mair than discreet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While kebbuck and bicker were set on the board;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now they pass by me, and never a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So let it be; for the worldly and slie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' poverty keep nae companie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spaewife has tauld me to keep up my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wi' my last sixpence her loof I hae cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bliss that is fated can never be lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cruelly though we ilka day see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How poverty parts dear companie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_136" id="vol1Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30" id="vol1FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30"></a>FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING.<a name="vol1FNanchor_30_30" id="vol1FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fy, let us a' to the wedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they will be lilting there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jock's to be married to Maggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lass wi' the gowden hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there will be jilting and jeering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glancing of bonnie dark een;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud laughing and smooth-gabbit speering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' questions, baith pawky and keen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there will be Bessy, the beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha raises her cock-up sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And giggles at preachings and duty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gude grant that she gang nae ajee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there will be auld Geordie Tanner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha coft a young wife wi' his gowd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll flaunt wi' a silk gown upon her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, wow! he looks dowie and cowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And braw Tibby Fowler, the heiress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will perk at the top o' the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encircled wi' suitors, whase care is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch up the gloves when they fa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repeat a' her jokes as they 're cleckit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haver and glower in her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When tocherless Mays are negleckit—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crying and scandalous case.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_137" id="vol1Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Mysie, whase clavering aunty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad match her wi' Jamie, the laird;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learns the young fouk to be vaunty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But neither to spin nor to caird.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Andrew, whase granny is yearning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see him a clerical blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was sent to the college for learning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cam' back a coof, as he gaed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there will be auld Widow Martin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ca's hersel' thretty and twa!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrawn-gabbit Madge, wha for certain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was jilted by Hab o' the Shaw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Elspy, the sewster, sae genty—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pattern of havens and sense—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will straik on her mittens sae dainty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crack wi' Mess John in the spence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Angus, the seer o' ferlies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sits on the stane at his door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tells about bogles, and mair lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than tongue ever utter'd before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there will be Bauldy, the boaster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae ready wi' hands and wi' tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Paty and silly Sam Foster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha quarrel wi' auld and wi' young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Hugh, the town-writer, I 'm thinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That trades in his lawyerly skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will egg on the fighting and drinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bring after grist to his mill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Maggie—na, na! we 'll be civil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the wee bridie abee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vilipend tongue it is evil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er was encouraged by me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_138" id="vol1Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then fy, let us a' to the wedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they will be lilting there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae mony a far-distant ha'ding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fun and the feasting to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they will get sheep's-head and haggis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And browst o' the barley-mow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en he that comes latest and lagis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May feast upon dainties enow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Veal florentines, in the o'en baken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel plenish'd wi' raisins and fat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beef, mutton, and chuckies, a' taken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Het reekin' frae spit and frae pat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glasses (I trow 'tis nae said ill)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drink the young couple gude luck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel fill'd wi' a braw beechen ladle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae punch-bowl as big as Dumbuck.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then will come dancing and daffing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reelin' and crossin' o' han's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till even auld Lucky is laughing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As back by the aumry she stan's.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic bobbing, and flinging, and whirling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fiddlers are making their din;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pipers are droning and skirling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As loud as the roar o' the linn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then fy, let us a' to the wedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they will be lilting there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jock 's to be married to Maggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lass wi' the gowden hair.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_139" id="vol1Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31" id="vol1HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31"></a>HOOLY AND FAIRLY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_31_31" id="vol1FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, neighbours! what had I to do for to marry?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wife she drinks posset and wine o' Canary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ca's me a niggardly, thrawn-gabbit cairly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She sups, wi' her kimmers, on dainties enow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye bowing, and smirking, and wiping her mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I sit aside, and am helpit but sparely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad feast hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad feast hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To fairs, and to bridals, and preachings an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gangs sae light-headed, and buskit sae braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ribbons and mantuas, that gar me gae barely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad spend hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad spend hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I' the kirk sic commotion last Sabbath she made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' babs o' red roses, and breast-knots o'erlaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dominie stickit the psalm very nearly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad dress hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad dress hooly and fairly!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_140" id="vol1Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's warring and flyting frae mornin' till e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if ye gainsay her, her een glower sae keen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tongue, neive, and cudgel, she 'll lay on me sairly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad strike hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad strike hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When tired wi' her cantrips, she lies in her bed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wark a' negleckit, the chalmer unred—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While a' our gude neighbours are stirring sae early.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad wark timely and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Timely and fairly, timely and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad wark timely and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A word o' gude counsel or grace she 'll hear none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bandies the elders, and mocks at Mess John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While back in his teeth his own text she flings sairly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad speak hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gin my wife wad speak hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were single, I wish I were freed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish I were doited, I wish I were dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or she in the mouls, to dement me nae mairly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What does it 'vail to cry, Hooly and fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wasting my health to cry, Hooly and fairly.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_141" id="vol1Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW" id="vol1THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW"></a>THE WEARY PUND O' TOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A young gudewife is in my house,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And thrifty means to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But aye she 's runnin' to the town<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Some ferlie there to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary pund, the weary pund, the weary pund o' tow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I soothly think, ere it be spun, I 'll wear a lyart pow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And when she sets her to her wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To draw her threads wi' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In comes the chapman wi' his gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And she can spin nae mair.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">The weary pund, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And then like ony merry May,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At fairs maun still be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At kirkyard preachings near the tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At dances on the green.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">The weary pund, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Her dainty ear a fiddle charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A bagpipe 's her delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But for the crooning o' her wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i6">She disna care a mite.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">The weary pund, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"You spake, my Kate, of snaw-white webs<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Made o' your hinkum twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But, ah! I fear our bonnie burn<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Will ne'er lave web o' thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i18">The weary pund, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_142" id="vol1Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Nay, smile again, my winsome mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sic jeering means nae ill;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Should I gae sarkless to my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I'll loe and bless thee still."<br /></span> +<span class="i18">The weary pund, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32" id="vol1THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32"></a>THE WEE PICKLE TOW.<a name="vol1FNanchor_32_32" id="vol1FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A lively young lass had a wee pickle tow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she thought to try the spinnin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sat by the fire, and her rock took alow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that was an ill beginnin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud and shrill was the cry that she utter'd, I ween;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sudden mischanter brought tears to her een;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face it was fair, but her temper was keen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dole for the ill beginnin' o't!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She stamp'd on the floor, and her twa hands she wrung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bonny sweet mou' she crookit, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell was the outbreak o' words frae her tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like ane sair demented she lookit, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Foul fa' the inventor o' rock and o' reel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope, gude forgi'e me! he 's now wi' the d—l,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He brought us mair trouble than help, wot I weel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dole for the ill beginnin' o't!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now, when they 're spinnin' and kempin' awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll talk o' my rock and the burnin' o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Tibbie, and Mysie, and Maggie, and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into some silly joke will be turnin' it:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_143" id="vol1Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll say I was doited, they 'll say I was fu';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll say I was dowie, and Robin untrue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll say in the fire some luve-powther I threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that made the ill beginning o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O curst be the day, and unchancy the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I sat me adown to the spinnin' o't!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then some evil spirit or warlock had power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made sic an ill beginnin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May Spunkie my feet to the boggie betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lunzie folk steal my new kirtle away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robin forsake me for douce Effie Gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next time I try the spinnin' o't."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD" id="vol1THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD"></a>THE GOWAN GLITTERS ON THE SWARD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gowan glitters on the sward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lav'rock's in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And collie on my plaid keeps ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And time is passing by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! sad and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lengthen'd on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of our trysting bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wears so slowly round.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My sheep-bells tinkle frae the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lambs are bleating near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the sound that I lo'e best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alack! I canna hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! sad and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow lingers still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a lanely ghaist I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And croon upon the hill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_144" id="vol1Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear below the water roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mill wi' clacking din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lucky scolding frae the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ca' the bairnies in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! sad and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are nae sounds for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of our trysting bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It creeps sae drearily!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I coft yestreen, frae chapman Tam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snood o' bonnie blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And promised, when our trysting cam',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tie it round her brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! sad and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mark it winna pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow o' that dreary bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is tether'd on the grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O now I see her on the way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's past the witch's knowe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's climbing up the brownie's brae—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is in a lowe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! 'tis not so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis glamrie I hae seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow o' that hawthorn bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will move nae mair till e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My book o' grace I 'll try to read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though conn'd wi' little skill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When collie barks I 'll raise my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find her on the hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! sad and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time will ne'er be gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow o' our trysting bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fix'd like ony stane.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_145" id="vol1Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN" id="vol1SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN"></a>SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN'?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Saw ye Johnnie comin'?" quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Saw ye Johnnie comin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' his blue bonnet on his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his doggie rinnin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yestreen, about the gloamin' time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I chanced to see him comin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whistling merrily the tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am a' day hummin'," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I am a' day hummin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fee him, faither, fee him," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Fee him, faither, fee him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' the wark about the house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaes wi' me when I see him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' the wark about the house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gang sae lightly through it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though ye pay some merks o' gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoot! ye winna rue it," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No; ye winna rue it."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What wad I do wi' him, hizzy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wad I do wi' him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's ne'er a sark upon his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I hae nane to gi'e him."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I hae twa sarks into my kist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ane o' them I 'll gi'e him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a merk o' mair fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna stand wi' him," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dinna stand wi' him.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_146" id="vol1Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Weel do I lo'e him," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Weel do I lo'e him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brawest lads about the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are a' but hav'rels to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, fee him, father; lang, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've dull and dowie been:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll haud the plough, thrash i' the barn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crack wi' me at e'en," quo' she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Crack wi' me at e'en."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33" id="vol1IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33"></a>IT FELL ON A MORNING.<a name="vol1FNanchor_33_33" id="vol1FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It fell on a morning when we were thrang—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our kirn was gaun, our cheese was making,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bannocks on the girdle baking—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ane at the door chapp'd loud and lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this stirring and din took sma' notice, I ween;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a chap at the door in braid daylight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is no like a chap when heard at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the clocksie auld laird of the warlock glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha stood without, half cow'd, half cheerie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yearn'd for a sight of his winsome dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raised up the latch and came crousely ben.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His coat was new, and his owrelay was white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his hose and his mittens were coozy and bein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a wooer that comes in braid daylight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_147" id="vol1Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He greeted the carlin' and lasses sae braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his bare lyart pow he smoothly straikit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looked about, like a body half glaikit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ha, ha!" quo' the carlin', "and look ye that way?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoot! let nae sic fancies bewilder ye clean—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An elderlin' man, i' the noon o' the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife; "I trow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You 'll fash na your head wi' a youthfu' gilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild and as skeigh as a muirland filly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black Madge is far better and fitter for you."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hem'd and he haw'd, and he screw'd in his mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he squeezed his blue bonnet his twa hands between;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wooers that come when the sun 's in the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are mair awkward than wooers that come at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Black Madge she is prudent." "What 's that to me?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She is eident and sober, has sense in her noddle—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is douce and respeckit." "I carena a boddle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll baulk na my luve, and my fancy 's free."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Nanny run laughing out to the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wooers that come when the sun shines bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are no like the wooers that come at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awa' flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"All the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed, O:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black and fair, young and old, dame, damsel, and widow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May gang, wi' their pride, to the wuddy for me."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_148" id="vol1Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' his loud banning cared little, I ween;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a wooer that comes in braid daylight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34" id="vol1WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34"></a>WOO'D, AND MARRIED, AND A'.<a name="vol1FNanchor_34_34" id="vol1FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bride she is winsome and bonnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair it is snooded sae sleek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faithful and kind is her Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New pearlings are cause o' her sorrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New pearlings and plenishing too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride that has a' to borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has e'en right muckle ado.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woo'd, and married, and a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woo'd, and married, and a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is na she very weel aff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be woo'd, and married, and a'?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mither then hastily spak—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The lassie is glaikit wi' pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my pouches I hadna a plack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day that I was a bride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en tak to your wheel and be clever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And draw out your thread in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gear that is gifted, it never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will last like the gear that is won.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_149" id="vol1Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Woo'd, and married, an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tocher and havings sae sma';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think ye are very weel aff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be woo'd, and married, and a'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Toot, toot!" quo' the gray-headed faither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She 's less of a bride than a bairn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's ta'en like a cowt frae the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' sense and discretion to learn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half husband, I trow, and half daddy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As humour inconstantly leans;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chiel maun be constant and steady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yokes wi' a mate in her teens.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kerchief to cover so neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Locks the winds used to blaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm baith like to laugh and to greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I think o' her married at a'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then out spak the wily bridegroom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel waled were his wordies, I ween,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I 'm rich, though my coffer be toom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the blinks o' your bonnie blue een;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm prouder o' thee by my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than if Kate o' the Craft were my bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' purples and pearlings enew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear and dearest of ony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've woo'd, and bookit, and a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do you think scorn o' your Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grieve to be married at a'?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she lookit sae bashfully down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride o' her heart was beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she play'd wi' the sleeve o' her gown;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_150" id="vol1Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She twirl'd the tag o' her lace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she nippit her boddice sae blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne blinkit sae sweet in his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aff like a maukin she flew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woo'd, and married, and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Married and carried awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thinks hersel' very weel aff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be woo'd, and married, and a'.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_151" id="vol1Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1WILLIAM_DUDGEON" id="vol1WILLIAM_DUDGEON"></a>WILLIAM DUDGEON.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_152" id="vol1Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS" id="vol1UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS"></a>UP AMONG YON CLIFFY ROCKS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up among yon cliffy rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetly rings the rising echo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the maid that tends the goats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilting o'er her native notes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, she sings, "Young Sandy 's kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' he 's promised aye to lo'e me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's a brooch I ne'er shall tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he 's fairly married to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drive away, ye drone, Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring about our bridal day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sandy herds a flock o' sheep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aften does he blaw the whistle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a strain sae saftly sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lammies list'ning daurna bleat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's as fleet 's the mountain roe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hardy as the Highland heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wading through the winter snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keeping aye his flock together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a plaid, wi' bare houghs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He braves the bleakest norlan' blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Brawly can he dance and sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canty glee or Highland cronach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nane can ever match his fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a reel or round a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a brawl he 's aye the bangster:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' his praise can ne'er be sung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the langest-winded sangster;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sangs that sing o' Sandy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem short, though they were e'er sae lang."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_153" id="vol1Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1WILLIAM_REID" id="vol1WILLIAM_REID"></a>WILLIAM REID.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>literati</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_154" id="vol1Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_LEA_RIG35" id="vol1THE_LEA_RIG35"></a>THE LEA RIG.<a name="vol1FNanchor_35_35" id="vol1FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will ye gang o'er the lea rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cuddle there fu' kindly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' me, my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At thorny bush, or birken tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll daff and never weary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll scug ill een frae you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae herds wi' kent or colly there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall ever come to fear ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lav'rocks, whistling in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall woo, like me, their dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ithers herd their lambs and ewes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And toil for warld's gear, my jo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the lea my pleasure grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At gloamin', if my lane I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, but I'm wondrous eerie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a heavy sigh I gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When absent frae my dearie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_155" id="vol1Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But seated 'neath the milk-white thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ev'ning fair and clearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enraptured, a' my cares I scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wi' my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare through the birks the burnie rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft hae I sat fu' cheerie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the bonny greensward howes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've courted till I've heard the craw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of honest chanticleerie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet never miss'd my sleep ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan wi' my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though the night were ne'er sae dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I were ne'er sae weary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd meet thee on the lea rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in this weary world of wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This wilderness sae dreary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes me blythe, and keeps me sae?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thee, my kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36" id="vol1JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36"></a>JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.<a name="vol1FNanchor_36_36" id="vol1FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder what ye mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rise sae early in the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sit sae late at e'en;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_156" id="vol1Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll blear out a' your een, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why should you do so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gang sooner to your bed at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Nature first began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try her canny hand, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her masterpiece was man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you amang them a', John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae trig frae tap to toe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She proved to be nae journeyman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye were my first conceit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye needna think it strange, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I ca' ye trim and neat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though some folks say ye 're auld, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never think ye so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I think ye 're aye the same to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've seen our bairns' bairns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, my dear John Anderson,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm happy in your arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sae are ye in mine, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm sure ye 'll ne'er say, No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the days are gane that we have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson, my jo.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_157" id="vol1Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER" id="vol1FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER"></a>FAIR, MODEST FLOWER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Ye Banks and Braes o' bonnie Doon."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair, modest flower, of matchless worth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sweet, enticing, bonny gem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest is the soil that gave thee birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bless'd thine honour'd parent stem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But doubly bless'd shall be the youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom thy heaving bosom warms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possess'd of beauty, love, and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll clasp an angel in his arms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though storms of life were blowing snell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on his brow sat brooding care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy seraph smile would quick dispel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkest gloom of black despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure Heaven hath granted thee to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chose thee from the dwellers there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sent thee from celestial bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shew what all the virtues are.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1KATE_O_GOWRIE37" id="vol1KATE_O_GOWRIE37"></a>KATE O' GOWRIE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_37_37" id="vol1FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Locherroch Side."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Katie was scarce out nineteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, but she had twa coal-black een!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnier lass ye wadna seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a' the Carse o' Gowrie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_158" id="vol1Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Quite tired o' livin' a' his lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pate did to her his love explain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swore he 'd be, were she his ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happiest lad in Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quo' she, "I winna marry thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the gear that ye can gi'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will I gang a step ajee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the gowd in Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father will gi'e me twa kye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mother 's gaun some yarn to dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll get a gown just like the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gif I 'll no gang to Gowrie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, my dear Katie, say nae sae!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye little ken a heart that 's wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae! there 's my hand; hear me, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' thou 'lt no gang to Gowrie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first I met thee at the shiel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My saul to thee 's been true and leal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkest night I fear nae deil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warlock, or witch in Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I fear nae want o' claes nor nocht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic silly things my mind ne'er taught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dream a' nicht, and start about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish for thee in Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lo'e thee better, Kate, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a' my rigs and out-gaun gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit down by me till ance I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'rt worth the Carse o' Gowrie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Syne on her mou' sweet kisses laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till blushes a' her cheeks o'erspread;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_159" id="vol1Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She sigh'd, and in soft whispers said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, Pate, tak me to Gowrie!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quo' he, "Let 's to the auld folk gang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say what they like, I 'll bide their bang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bide a' nicht, though beds be thrang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'll hae thee to Gowrie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The auld folk syne baith gi'ed consent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The priest was ca'd: a' were content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Katie never did repent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she gaed hame to Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For routh o' bonnie bairns had she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair strappin' lads ye wadna see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her braw lasses bore the gree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae a' the rest o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38" id="vol1UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38"></a>UPON THE BANKS O' FLOWING CLYDE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_38_38" id="vol1FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lasses busk them braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when their best they hae put on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Jeanie dings them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hamely weeds she far exceeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest o' the toun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith sage and gay confess it sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though drest in russit goun.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_160" id="vol1Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gamesome lamb that sucks its dam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair harmless canna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has nae faut, if sic ye ca't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except her love for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sparkling dew, o' clearest hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like her shining een;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In shape and air wha can compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' my sweet lovely Jean.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_161" id="vol1Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL" id="vol1ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL"></a>ALEXANDER CAMPBELL.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_162" id="vol1Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_163" id="vol1Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_164" id="vol1Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +lyrical pieces proceeded from his pen; these were first +published in "Albyn's Anthology." From this work +we have extracted two specimens.</p> + +<p>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 <i>The Ghost</i>, 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_165" id="vol1Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS" id="vol1NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS"></a>NOW WINTER'S WIND SWEEPS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now winter's wind sweeps o'er the mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeply clad in drifting snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soundly sleep the frozen fountains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ice-bound streams forget to flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The piercing blast howls loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leafless forest oaks among.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down the glen, lo! comes a stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wayworn, drooping, all alone;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply, 'tis the deer-haunt Ranger!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But alas! his strength is gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stoops, he totters on with pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill he 'll never climb again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Age is being's winter season,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fitful, gloomy, piercing cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passion weaken'd, yields to reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man feels <i>then</i> himself grown old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His senses one by one have fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His very soul seems almost dead.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_166" id="vol1Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH" id="vol1THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH"></a>THE HAWK WHOOPS ON HIGH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hawk whoops on high, and keen, keen from yon' cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the eagle on watch eyes the stag cold and stiff;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deer-hound, majestic, looks lofty around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he lists with delight to the harp's distant sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it swept by the gale, as it slow wafts along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart-soothing tones of an olden times' song?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it some Druid who touches, unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The Harp of the North," newly strung now I ween?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis Albyn's own minstrel! and, proud of his name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He proclaims him chief bard, and immortal his fame!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gives tongue to those wild lilts that ravish'd of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soul to the tales that so oft have been told;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence <span class="smcap">Walter the Minstrel</span> shall flourish for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will breathe in sweet airs, and live long as his "Lay;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ages unnumber'd thus yielding delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which will last till the gloaming of Time's endless night.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_167" id="vol1Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1MRS_DUGALD_STEWART" id="vol1MRS_DUGALD_STEWART"></a>MRS DUGALD STEWART.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The following pieces from the pen of the accomplished +author are replete with simple beauty and exquisite +tenderness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_168" id="vol1Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL" id="vol1THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL"></a>THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Ianthe the Lovely."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tears I shed must ever fall:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mourn not for an absent swain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thoughts may past delights recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And parted lovers meet again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weep not for the silent dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those they loved their steps shall tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death shall join to part no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though boundless oceans roll'd between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If certain that his heart is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A conscious transport glads each scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft is the sigh and sweet the tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en when by death's cold hand removed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We mourn the tenant of the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that e'en in death he loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can gild the horrors of the gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But bitter, bitter are the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her who slighted love bewails;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hope her dreary prospect cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No pleasing melancholy hails.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers are the pangs of wounded pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blasted hope, of wither'd joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flattering veil is rent aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flame of love burns to destroy.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_169" id="vol1Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain does memory renew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours once tinged in transport's dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad reverse soon starts to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turns the past to agony.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en time itself despairs to cure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those pangs to every feeling due:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ungenerous youth! thy boast how poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win a heart, and break it too!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No cold approach, no alter'd mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just what would make suspicion start;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No pause the dire extremes between—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made me blest, and broke my heart:<a name="vol1FNanchor_39_39" id="vol1FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hope, the wretched's anchor, torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neglected and neglecting all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friendless, forsaken, and forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears I shed must ever fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40" id="vol1RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40"></a>RETURNING SPRING, WITH GLADSOME RAY.<a name="vol1FNanchor_40_40" id="vol1FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Returning spring, with gladsome ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorns the earth and smoothes the deep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature smiles, serene and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It smiles, and yet, alas! I weep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_170" id="vol1Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But why, why flows the sudden tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Heaven such precious boons has lent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lives of those who life endear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though scarce competence, content?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure, when no other bliss was mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that which still kind Heaven bestows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet then could peace and hope combine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To promise joy and give repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then have I wander'd o'er the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bless'd each flower that met my view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought Fancy's power would ever reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Nature's charms be ever new.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fondly thought where Virtue dwelt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That happy bosom knew no ill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That those who scorn'd me, time would melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those I loved be faultless still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enchanting dreams! kind was your art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bliss bestow'd without alloy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if soft sadness claim'd a part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas sadness sweeter still than joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! whence the change that now alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills this sad heart and tearful eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And conquers the once powerful charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of youth, of hope, of novelty?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis sad Experience, fatal power!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That clouds the once illumined sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That darkens life's meridian hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids each fairy vision fly.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_171" id="vol1Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She paints the scene—how different far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that which youthful fancy drew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shews joy and freedom oft at war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our woes increased, our comforts few.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when, perhaps, on some loved friend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our treasured fondness we bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! can she not, with ruthless hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change even that friend into a foe?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See in her train cold Foresight move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shunning the rose to 'scape the thorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Prudence every fear approve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pity harden into scorn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glowing tints of Fancy fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's distant prospects charm no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! are all my hopes betray'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can nought my happiness restore?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Relentless power! at length be just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy better skill alone impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give Caution, but withhold Distrust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guard, but harden not, my heart!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_172" id="vol1Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ALEXANDER_WILSON" id="vol1ALEXANDER_WILSON"></a>ALEXANDER WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_173" id="vol1Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +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 <i>Forum</i>, +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 <i>Forum</i>, he repeated a poem which +he had prepared, entitled the "Laurel Disputed," in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_174" id="vol1Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_175" id="vol1Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_176" id="vol1Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_177" id="vol1Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_178" id="vol1Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +paint with a life and a humour which Burns seems alone +to excel."<a name="vol1FNanchor_41_41" id="vol1FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> 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.<a name="vol1FNanchor_42_42" id="vol1FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_179" id="vol1Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CONNEL_AND_FLORA" id="vol1CONNEL_AND_FLORA"></a>CONNEL AND FLORA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! morn returns to revisit the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Connel returns to his Flora no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For see, on yon mountain, the dark cloud of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on the heath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While bloody and pale, on a far distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lies, to return to his Flora no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye light fleeting spirits, that glide o'er the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, would ye but waft me across the wild deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There fearless I'd mix in the battle's loud roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd die with my Connel, and leave him no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MATILDA" id="vol1MATILDA"></a>MATILDA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here shelter me under your cliffs while I weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cease while ye hear me complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For distant, alas! from my dear native shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from each friend now I be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wide is the merciless ocean that roars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between my Matilda and me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_180" id="vol1Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How blest were the times when together we stray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Phœbe shone silent above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lean'd by the border of Cartha's green side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And talk'd the whole evening of love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around us all nature lay wrapt up in peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor noise could our pleasures annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save Cartha's hoarse brawling, convey'd by the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soothed us to love and to joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If haply some youth had his passion express'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praised the bright charms of her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What horrors unceasing revolved though my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, sighing, I stole from the place!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For where is the eye that could view her alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ear that could list to her strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wish the adorable nymph for his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor double the pangs I sustain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou moon, that now brighten'st those regions above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft hast thou witness'd my bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While breathing my tender expressions of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seal'd each kind vow with a kiss!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, then, how I joy'd while I gazed on her charms!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What transports flew swift through my heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I press'd the dear, beautiful maid in my arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dream'd that we ever should part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now from the dear, from the tenderest maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By fortune unfeelingly torn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst strangers, who wonder to see me so sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In secret I wander forlorn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_181" id="vol1Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oft, while drear Midnight assembles her shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Silence pours sleep from her throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, lonely, and pensive, I steal through the glades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sigh, 'midst the darkness, my moan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain to the town I retreat for relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain to the groves I complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belles, coxcombs, and uproar, can ne'er soothe my grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And solitude nurses my pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still absent from her whom my bosom loves best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I languish in mis'ry and care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her presence could banish each woe from my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her absence, alas! is despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, shelter me under your cliffs while I weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cease while ye hear me complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far distant, alas! from my dear native shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from each friend now I be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wide is the merciless ocean that roars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between my Matilda and me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_182" id="vol1Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1AUCHTERTOOL43" id="vol1AUCHTERTOOL43"></a>AUCHTERTOOL.<a name="vol1FNanchor_43_43" id="vol1FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the village of Leslie, with a heart full of glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resolved that same evening, as Luna was full,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lodge, ten miles distant, in old Auchtertool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through many a lone cottage and farm-house I steer'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took their money, and off with my budget I sheer'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The road I explored out, without form or rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still asking the nearest to old Auchtertool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length I arrived at the edge of the town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Phœbus, behind a high mountain, went down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds gather'd dreary, and weather blew foul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I hugg'd myself safe now in old Auchtertool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An inn I inquired out, a lodging desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the landlady's pertness seem'd instantly fired;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she saucy replied, as she sat carding wool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I ne'er kept sic lodgers in auld Auchtertool."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With scorn I soon left her to live on her pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, asking, was told there was none else beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except an old weaver, who now kept a school,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these were the whole that were in Auchtertool.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_183" id="vol1Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To his mansion I scamper'd, and rapp'd at the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He oped, but as soon as I dared to implore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shut it like thunder, and utter'd a howl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rung through each corner of old Auchtertool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deprived of all shelter, through darkness I trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I came to a ruin'd old house by the road;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the night I will spend, and, inspired by the owl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wrath I 'll vent forth upon old Auchtertool.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_184" id="vol1Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN" id="vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN"></a>CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN.</h2> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Leddy too, sae genty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shelter'd Scotland's heir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' clipt a lock wi' her ain hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae his lang yellow hair."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_185" id="vol1Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_44_44" id="vol1FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_186" id="vol1Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_187" id="vol1Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_188" id="vol1Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_45_45" id="vol1FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_189" id="vol1Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +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 <i>the discovery</i>, communicated +in confidence, that the name of his contributor +was "Mrs Bogan of Bogan;" and by this designation +he subsequently addressed her. The <i>nom de +guerre</i> of the two B.'s<a name="vol1FNanchor_46_46" id="vol1FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> is attached to the greater number +of Lady Nairn's contributions in "The Scottish Minstrel."</p> + +<p>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 expe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_190" id="vol1Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>rienced +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 <i>incognita</i>; +she was even desirous that her sex might not be made +known. "I beg the publisher will make no mention of +a <i>lady</i>," she wrote to one of her correspondents, "as you +observe, the more mystery the better, and <i>still</i> 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."</p> + +<p>Subsequent to the appearance of "The Scottish +Minstrel," Lady Nairn did not publish any lyrics; and +she was eminently successful in preserving her <i>incognita</i>. +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_191" id="vol1Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +Scottish lady here, Lady——, with whom I never met +in Scotland, is so good as, among perfect strangers, +to <i>denounce</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Did good by stealth, and blush'd to find it fame."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_192" id="vol1Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Some years subsequent to this event, it occurred to the +relatives and literary friends of the deceased Baroness that<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_193" id="vol1Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +as there could no longer be any reason for retaining her +<i>incognita</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_194" id="vol1Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_PLEUGHMAN47" id="vol1THE_PLEUGHMAN47"></a>THE PLEUGHMAN.<a name="vol1FNanchor_47_47" id="vol1FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's high and low, there 's rich and poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's trades and crafts enew, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, east and west, his trade 's the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kens to guide the pleugh, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, come, weel speed my pleughman lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And hey my merry pleughman;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a' the trades that I do ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Commend me to the pleughman.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His dreams are sweet upon his bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cares are light and few, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mother's blessing 's on his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tents her weel, the pleughman.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, come, weel speed, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lark, sae sweet, that starts to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning fresh and new, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blythe though she be, as blythe is he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sings as sweet, the pleughman.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, come, weel speed, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All fresh and gay, at dawn of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their labours they renew, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven bless the seed, and bless the soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven bless the pleughman.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, come, weel speed, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_195" id="vol1Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CALLER_HERRIN48" id="vol1CALLER_HERRIN48"></a>CALLER HERRIN'.<a name="vol1FNanchor_48_48" id="vol1FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're bonnie fish and halesome farin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha 'll buy caller herrin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New drawn frae the Forth?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream'd ye ought o' our puir fellows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkling as they faced the billows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' to fill the woven willows.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Buy my caller herrin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New drawn frae the Forth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're no brought here without brave daring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buy my caller herrin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haul'd thro' wind and rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wives and mithers, maist despairin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca' them lives o' men.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_196" id="vol1Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the creel o' herrin' passes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ladies, clad in silks and laces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather in their braw pelisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast their heads, and screw their faces.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Caller herrin 's no got lightlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gow has set you a' a-singin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neebour wives, now tent my tellin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the bonny fish ye 're sellin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At ae word be in yer dealin'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth will stand when a' thing 's failin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49" id="vol1THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49"></a>THE LAND O' THE LEAL.<a name="vol1FNanchor_49_49" id="vol1FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wearin' awa', John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like snaw wreaths in thaw, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm wearin' awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae sorrow there, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's neither cauld nor care, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day 's aye fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the land o' the leal.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_197" id="vol1Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bonnie bairn 's there, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was baith gude and fair, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! we grudged her sair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sorrows sel' wears past, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy 's a-comin' fast, John—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joy that 's aye to last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae dear 's that joy was bought, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae free the battle fought, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sinfu' man e'er brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dry your glist'ning e'e, John!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My saul langs to be free, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And angels beckon me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, haud ye leal and true, John!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your day it 's wearin' thro', John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll welcome you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, fare ye weel, my ain John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This warld's cares are vain, John;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll meet, and we 'll be fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_198" id="vol1Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50" id="vol1THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50"></a>THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN.<a name="vol1FNanchor_50_50" id="vol1FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Laird o' Cockpen he 's proud and he 's great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mind is ta'en up with the things o' the state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At his table-head he thought she 'd look well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">M'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His wig was weel pouther'd, and as gude as new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wha' could refuse the Laird wi' a' that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He took the gray mare, and rade cannily—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_199" id="vol1Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And what brings the Laird at sic a like time?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when she cam' ben, he bowed fu' low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what was his errand he soon let her know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazed was the Laird when the lady said "Na;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dumbfounder'd he was, nae sigh did he gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He mounted his mare—he rade cannily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now that the Laird his exit had made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh! for ane I 'll get better, it 's waur I 'll get ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_200" id="vol1Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next time that the Laird and the Lady were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as yet there 's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING" id="vol1HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING"></a>HER HOME SHE IS LEAVING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Mordelia."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In all its rich wildness, her home she is leaving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sad and tearful silence grieving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still as the moment of parting is nearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each long cherish'd object is fairer and dearer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a grove or fresh streamlet but wakens reflection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hearts still and cold, that glow'd with affection;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a breeze that blows over the flowers of the wild wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tells, as it passes, how blest was her childhood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And how long must I leave thee, each fond look expresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye high rocky summits, ye ivy'd recesses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How long must I leave thee, thou wood-shaded river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoes all sigh—as they whisper—for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' the autumn winds rave, and the seared leaves fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winter hangs out her cold icy pall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the footsteps of spring again ye will see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the singing of birds—but they sing not for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The joys of the past, more faintly recalling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet visions of peace on her spirit are falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soft wing of time, as it speeds for the morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wafts a gale, that is drying the dew-drops of sorrow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_201" id="vol1Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hope dawns—and the toils of life's journey beguiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The path of the mourner is cheer'd with its smiling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there her heart rests, and her wishes all centre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where parting is never—nor sorrow can enter.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD" id="vol1THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD"></a>THE BONNIEST LASS IN A' THE WARLD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonniest lass in a' the warld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've often heard them telling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's up the hill, she 's down the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's in yon lonely dwelling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nane could bring her to my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha lives but in the fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is 't Kate, or Shusie, Jean, or May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is 't Effie, Bess, or Nancy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now lasses a' keep a gude heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er envy a comrade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For be your een black, blue, or gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're bonniest aye to some lad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender heart, the charming smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truth that ne'er will falter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are charms that never can beguile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And time can never alter.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_202" id="vol1Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51" id="vol1MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51"></a>MY AIN KIND DEARIE, O!<a name="vol1FNanchor_51_51" id="vol1FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will ye gang ower the lea-rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye gang ower the lea-rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ye'll tak heart, and gang wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mishap will never steer ye, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gude luck lies ower the lea-rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its neither land, nor gowd, nor braws—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them gang tapsle teerie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's walth o' peace, o' love, and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain kind dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE" id="vol1HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE"></a>HE'S LIFELESS AMANG THE RUDE +BILLOWS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's lifeless amang the rude billows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tears and my sighs are in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart that beat warm for his Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ne'er beat for mortal again.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_203" id="vol1Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My lane now I am i' the warld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the daylight is grievous to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laddie that lo'ed me sae dearly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies cauld in the deeps o' the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye tempests, sae boist'rously raging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rage on as ye list—or be still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This heart ye sae often hae sicken'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is nae mair the sport o' your will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now heartless, I hope not—I fear not,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High Heaven hae pity on me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, tho' dismay'd and distracted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet bends to thy awful decree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS" id="vol1JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS"></a>JOY OF MY EARLIEST DAYS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"I'll never leave thee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Joy of my earliest days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why must I grieve thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theme of my fondest lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I maun leave thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave thee, love! leave thee, love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall I leave thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absence thy truth will prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh! I maun leave thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When on yon mossy stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild weeds o'ergrowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye sit at e'en your lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear the burn rowin';<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_204" id="vol1Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! think on this partin' hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down by the Garry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to Him that has a' the pow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commend me, my Mary!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN" id="vol1OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN"></a>OH, WEEL'S ME ON MY AIN MAN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Landlady count the lawin'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, weel's me on my ain man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain man, my ain man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, weel's me on my ain gudeman!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll aye be welcome hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wae I blamed him yesternight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now my heart is feather light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gowd I wadna gie the sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see him linking ower the height.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, weel's me on my ain man, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rin, Jamie, bring the kebbuck ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fin' aneath the speckled hen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meg, rise and sweep about the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne cry on Johnnie frae the byre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel's me on my ain man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain man, my ain man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel's me on my ain gudeman!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see him linkin' hame.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_205" id="vol1Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52" id="vol1KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52"></a>KIND ROBIN LOE'S ME.<a name="vol1FNanchor_52_52" id="vol1FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Robin is my ain gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now match him, carlins, gin ye can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But kind Robin lo'es me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mak my boast I 'll e'en be bauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Robin lo'ed me young and auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In summer's heat and winter's cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My kind Robin lo'es me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Robin he comes hame at e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' pleasure glancin' in his e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tells me a' he 's heard and seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And syne how he lo'es me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's some hae land, and some hae gowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair wad hae them gin they could,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' I wish o' warld's guid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Robin still to lo'e me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE" id="vol1KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE"></a>KITTY REID'S HOUSE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Country Bumpkin."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hech, hey! the mirth that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The mirth that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The mirth that was there;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hech, how! the mirth that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_206" id="vol1Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There was laughin' and singin', and dancin' and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Kitty's Reid's house, in Kitty Reid's house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was laughin' and singin', and dancin' and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hech, hey! the fright that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The fright that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The fright that was there;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hech, how! the fright that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light glimmer'd in through a crack i' the wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a'body thocht the lift it wad fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lads and lasses they soon ran awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Kitty's Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hech, hey! the dule that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The dule that was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The dule that was there;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds and beasts it wauken'd them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wa' gaed a hurley, and scatter'd them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The piper, the fiddler, auld Kitty, and a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kye fell a routin', the cocks they did craw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Kitty Reid's house on the green, Jo!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_ROBINS_NEST" id="vol1THE_ROBINS_NEST"></a>THE ROBIN'S NEST.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lochiel's awa' to France."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their nest was in the leafy bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae soft and warm, sae soft and warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robins thought their little brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All safe from harm, all safe from harm.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_207" id="vol1Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The morning's feast with joy they brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed their young wi' tender care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plunder'd leafy bush they found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nest and nestlings saw nae mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mother cou'dna leave the spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wheeling round, and wheeling round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cruel spoiler aim'd a shot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cured her heart's wound, cured her heart's wound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will not hear their helpless cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor see them pine in slavery!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning breast she will not bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wrongs of wanton knavery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bonny Robin Redbreast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye trust in men, ye trust in men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what their hard hearts are made o',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye little ken, ye little ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll ne'er wi' your wee skin be warm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wi' your tiny flesh be fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But just 'cause you 're a living thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's sport wi' them to lay you dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Hieland and ye Lowland lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As birdies gay, as birdies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, spare them, whistling like yoursel's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hopping blythe from spray to spray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wings were made to soar aloft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And skim the air at liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as you freedom gi'e to them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May you and yours be ever free!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_208" id="vol1Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53" id="vol1SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53"></a>SAW YE NAE MY PEGGY?<a name="vol1FNanchor_53_53" id="vol1FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw ye nae my Peggy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye nae my Peggy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye nae my Peggy comin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through Tillibelton's broom?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm frae Aberdagie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ower the crafts o' Craigie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aught I ken o' Peggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's ayont the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas but at the dawin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear the cock was crawin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw Peggy cawin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hawky by the brier.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Early bells were ringin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blythest birds were singin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetest flowers were springin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' her heart to cheer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the tempest's blawin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almond water 's flowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep and ford unknowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She maun cross the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almond waters, spare her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe to Lynedoch bear her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its braes ne'er saw a fairer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bess Bell nor Mary Gray.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_209" id="vol1Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, now to be wi' her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or but ance to see her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skaithless, far or near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd gie Scotland's crown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Byeword, blind 's a lover—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha 's yon I discover?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just yer ain fair rover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stately stappin' down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A" id="vol1GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A"></a>GUDE NICHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The best o' joys maun hae an end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best o' friends maun part, I trow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The langest day will wear away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I maun bid fareweel to you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tear will tell when hearts are fu',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For words, gin they hae sense ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're broken, faltering, and few:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, we hae wander'd far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Scotia's lands o' frith and fell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a simple flower we 've pu'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twined it wi' the heather-bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've ranged the dingle and the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cot-house, and the baron's ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we maun tak a last farewell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My harp, fareweel! thy strains are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gleefu' mirth, and heartfelt care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of song maun cease at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And minstrelsy itsel' decay.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_210" id="vol1Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! whar sorrow canna win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor parting tears are shed ava',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May we meet neighbour, kith, and kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy for aye be wi' us a'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54" id="vol1CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54"></a>CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.<a name="vol1FNanchor_54_54" id="vol1FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's castocks in Strabogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And morn and e'en, they 're blythe and bein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haud them frae the cogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, haud ye frae the cogie, lads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bide ye frae the cogie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll tell ye true, ye 'll never rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' passin' by the cogie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Will was braw and weel put on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae blythe was he and vogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he got bonnie Mary Don,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower o' a' Strabogie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha wad hae thocht, at wooin' time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'd e'er forsaken Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ta'en him to the tipplin' trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' boozin' Rob and Harry?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sair Mary wrought, sair Mary grat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She scarce could lift the ladle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' pithless feet, 'tween ilka greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'd rock the borrow'd cradle.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_211" id="vol1Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her weddin' plenishin' was gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never thocht to borrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bonnie face was waxin' wan—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Will wrought a' the sorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's reelin' hame ae winter's nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some later than the gloamin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's ta'en the rig, he 's miss'd the brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Bogie 's ower him foamin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' broken banes, out ower the stanes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He creepit up Strabogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the nicht he pray'd wi' micht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep him frae the cogie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Mary's heart is light again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's neither sick nor silly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For auld or young, nae sinfu' tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could e'er entice her Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye the sang through Bogie rang—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O had ye frae the cogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary gill 's the sairest ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On braes o' fair Strabogie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE" id="vol1HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE"></a>HE'S OWER THE HILLS THAT I LO'E +WEEL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's ower the hills we daurna name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's ower the hills ayont Dunblane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha soon will get his welcome hame.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_212" id="vol1Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father's gane to fight for him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brithers winna bide at hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mither greets and prays for them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'deed she thinks they 're no to blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ower the hills, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Whigs may scoff, the Whigs may jeer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! that love maun be sincere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still keeps true whate'er betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' for his sake leaves a' beside.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ower the hills, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His right these hills, his right these plains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ower Hieland hearts secure he reigns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What lads e'er did our laddies will do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I a laddie, I 'd follow him too.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ower the hills, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae noble a look, sae princely an air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae gallant and bold, sae young and sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, did ye but see him, ye 'd do as we've done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear him but ance, to his standard you 'll run.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ower the hills, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then draw the claymore, for Charlie then fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For your country, religion, and a' that is right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ten thousand lives now given to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd die as aft for ane o' the three.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ower the hills, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_213" id="vol1Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55" id="vol1THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55"></a>THE LASS O' GOWRIE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_55_55" id="vol1FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Loch Erroch Side."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a summer's afternoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wee afore the sun gaed down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lassie, wi' a braw new gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cam' ower the hills to Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose-bud, wash'd in summer's shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloom'd fresh within the sunny bower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Kitty was the fairest flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'er was seen in Gowrie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_214" id="vol1Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To see her cousin she cam' there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', oh, the scene was passing fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what in Scotland can compare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the Carse o' Gowrie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun was setting on the Tay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue hills melting into gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mavis' and the blackbird's lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were sweetly heard in Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lang the lassie I had woo'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' truth and constancy had vow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cam' nae speed wi' her I lo'ed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until she saw fair Gowrie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_215" id="vol1Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I pointed to my faither's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon bonnie bield ayont the shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae loun' that there nae blast could blaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad she no bide in Gowrie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her faither was baith glad and wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mither she wad naething say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bairnies thocht they wad get play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Kitty gaed to Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blush and tear were on her cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She naething said, an' hung her head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now she's Leddy Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56" id="vol1THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56"></a>THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH.<a name="vol1FNanchor_56_56" id="vol1FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white are the blossoms o't in our kail-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like wee bit white cockauds to deck our Hieland lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lasses lo'e the bonnie bush in our kail-yard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, an' it 's hame to the north countrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, an' it 's hame to the north countrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my bonnie Jean is waiting for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a heart kind and true, in my ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But were they a' true that were far awa?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! were they a' true that were far awa'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They drew up wi' glaikit Englishers at Carlisle Ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forgot auld frien's that were far awa.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_216" id="vol1Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye 'll come nae mair, Jamie, where aft ye 've been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll come nae mair, Jamie, to Atholl's green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye lo'ed ower weel the dancin' at Carlisle Ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forgot the Hieland hills that were far awa'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I ne'er lo'ed a dance but on Atholl's green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er lo'ed a lassie but my dorty Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sair, sair against my will did I bide sae lang awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart was aye in Atholl's green at Carlisle Ha'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blast blew ower the hill, that gae Atholl's flowers a chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bloom 's blawn aff the bonnie bush in our kail-yard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JOHN_TOD" id="vol1JOHN_TOD"></a>JOHN TOD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's a terrible man, John Tod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He scolds in the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He scolds at the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He scolds on the vera hie road, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He scolds on the vera hie road.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weans a' fear John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weans a' fear John Tod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he 's passing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mithers will cry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's an ill wean, John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's an ill wean, John Tod.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_217" id="vol1Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The callants a' fear John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The callants a' fear John Tod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If they steal but a neep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The callant he 'll whip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's unco weel done o' John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's unco weel done o' John Tod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' saw ye nae wee John Tod, John Tod?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, saw ye nae wee John Tod?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His bannet was blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His shoon maistly new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weel does he keep the kirk road, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, weel does he keep the kirk road.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How is he fendin', John Tod, John Tod?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is he wendin', John Tod?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's scourin' the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' his rung in his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the French wadna frighten John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the French wadna frighten John Tod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 're sun-brunt and batter'd, John Tod, John Tod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're tantit and tatter'd, John Tod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' your auld strippit coul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye look maist like a fule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nouse i' the lining,<a name="vol1FNanchor_57_57" id="vol1FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nouse i' the lining, John Tod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's weel respeckit, John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's weel respeckit, John Tod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's a terrible man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we 'd a' gae wrang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er he sud leave us, John Tod, John Tod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er he sud leave us, John Tod.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_218" id="vol1Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN" id="vol1WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN"></a>WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Charlie 's now awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safely ower the friendly main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mony a heart will break in twa<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should he ne'er come back again.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no come back again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no come back again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Better lo'ed ye canna be—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no come back again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye trusted in your Hieland men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They trusted you, dear Charlie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They kent your hiding in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death or exile braving.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">English bribes were a' in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' puir, and puirer, we maun be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Siller canna buy the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beats aye for thine and thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We watch'd thee in the gloamin' hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We watch'd thee in the mornin' gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thirty thousand pound they gi'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, there is none that wad betray!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet 's the laverock's note, and lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilting wildly up the glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye to me he sings ae sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye no come back again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will ye no, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_219" id="vol1Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JAMIE_THE_LAIRD" id="vol1JAMIE_THE_LAIRD"></a>JAMIE THE LAIRD.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Send a horse to the water, ye 'll no mak him drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send a fule to the college, ye 'll no mak him think;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send a craw to the singin', an' still he will craw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the wee laird had nae rummulgumshion ava.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet is he the pride o' his fond mother's e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In body or mind, nae fau't can she see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, I trow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His legs they are bow'd, his een they do glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wig, whiles it 's aff, and when on, it 's ajee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's braid as he 's lang, an' ill-faur'd is he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dafter-like body I never did see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' yet for this cratur' she says I am deein',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that I deny, she 's fear'd at my leein';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obliged to put up wi' this sair defamation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm liken to dee wi' grief an' vexation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! she 's a haverin' lucky, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' her clishmaclavers gang a' through the toun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the wee lairdie trows I 'll hang or I 'll droun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' his gawky-like face, yestreen he did say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I 'll maybe tak you, for Bess I 'll no hae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Mattie, nor Effie, nor lang-legged Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Nelly, nor Katie, nor skirlin' wee Beenie."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_220" id="vol1Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I stappit my ears, ran aff in a fury—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm thinkin' to bring them afore judge an' jury.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! what a randy auld luckie is she, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Freen's! gi'e your advice!—I 'll follow your counsel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maun I speak to the Provost, or honest Toun Council,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the writers, or lawyers, or doctors? now say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the law on the lucky I shall an' will hae.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hale toun at me are jibin' and jeerin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a leddy like me it 's really past bearin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lucky maun now hae dune wi' her claverin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I 'll no put up wi' her nor her haverin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! she 's a randy, I trow, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! she 's a randy, I trow, I trow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He 's a fell clever lad, an' a bonny wee man,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="vol1SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND"></a>SONGS OF MY NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Happy Land."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Songs of my native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me how dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Songs of my infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet to mine ear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entwined with my youthful days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the bonny banks and braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the winding burnie strays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmuring near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strains of my native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thrill the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring the magic of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your soft control!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_221" id="vol1Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Often has your minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothed the pang of misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winging rapid thoughts away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To realms on high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weary pilgrims <i>there</i> have rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wand'rings o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the slave, no more oppress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hails Freedom's shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin shall then no more deface,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sickness, pain, and sorrow cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ending in eternal peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And songs of joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, when the seraphs sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cloudless day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where the higher praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ransom'd pay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft strains of the happy land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanted by the heavenly band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can fully understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet ye be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CASTELL_GLOOM58" id="vol1CASTELL_GLOOM58"></a>CASTELL GLOOM.<a name="vol1FNanchor_58_58" id="vol1FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green grass o'er thee growin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hill of <i>Care</i> thou art alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>Sorrow</i> round thee flowin'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_222" id="vol1Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae banners now are streamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The houlet flits amang thy ha's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild birds there are screamin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! mourn the woe, oh! mourn the crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae civil war that flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mourn the great Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here ladies bright were aften seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here valiant warriors trod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here great Knox has aften been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha fear'd nought but his God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' are gane! the guid, the great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And naething now remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ruin sittin' on thy wa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crumblin' down the stanes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! mourn the woe, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy lofty Ochils bright did glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though sleepin' was the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mornin's light did sadly show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ragin' flames had done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hung o'er thy wild wood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wert like beauty in a shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all was solitude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! mourn the woe, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_223" id="vol1Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1BONNIE_GASCON_HA" id="vol1BONNIE_GASCON_HA"></a>BONNIE GASCON HA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lane, on the winding Earn there stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unco tow'r, sae stern an' auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Biggit by lang forgotten hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ance refuge o' the Wallace bauld.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time's restless fingers sair hath waur'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rived thy gray disjaskit wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rougher hands nor Time's hae daur'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrang thee, bonnie Gascon Ha'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, may a muse unkent to fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this dim greesome relic sue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's linkit wi' a patriot's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truest Scotland ever knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just leave in peace each mossy stane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tellin' o' nations' rivalry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' for succeeding ages hain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remains o' Scottish chivalry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though no monument to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is biggit by thy country's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engraved are thy immortal deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every heart o' this braid land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rude Time may monuments ding doun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' tow'rs an' wa's maun a' decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enduring, deathless, noble chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name can never pass away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_224" id="vol1Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gi'e pillar'd fame to common men,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae need o' cairns for ane like thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every cave, wood, hill, and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Wallace</span>" remember'd aye shall be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_AULD_HOUSE" id="vol1THE_AULD_HOUSE"></a>THE AULD HOUSE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the auld house, the auld house!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though the rooms were wee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, kind hearts were dwelling there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bairnies fu' o' glee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-rose and the jesamine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still hang upon the wa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How mony cherish'd memories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they, sweet flowers, reca'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the auld laird, the auld laird!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae canty, kind, and crouse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How mony did he welcome to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ain wee dear auld house!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the leddy too, sae genty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shelter'd Scotland's heir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clipt a lock wi' her ain hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae his lang yellow hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mavis still doth sweetly sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue bells sweetly blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie Earn 's clear winding still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the auld house is awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The auld house, the auld house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserted though ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There ne'er can be a new house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will seem sae fair to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_225" id="vol1Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still flourishing the auld pear tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bairnies liked to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, how aften did they speir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ripe they a' wad be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voices sweet, the wee bit feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye rinnin' here and there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merry shout—oh! whiles we greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think we 'll hear nae mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For they are a' wide scatter'd now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some to the Indies gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ane, alas! to her lang hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not here we 'll meet again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kirkyaird, the kirkyaird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' flowers o' every hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shelter'd by the holly's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the dark sombre yew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The setting sun, the setting sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glorious it gaed down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cloudy splendour raised our hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cloudless skies aboon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The auld dial, the auld dial,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It tauld how time did pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wintry winds hae dung it down,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hid 'mang weeds and grass.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_226" id="vol1Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59" id="vol1THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59"></a>THE HUNDRED PIPERS.<a name="vol1FNanchor_59_59" id="vol1FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Hundred Pipers."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll up, and we 'll gi'e them a blaw, a blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is ower the border, awa', awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is ower the border, awa', awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, we 'll on, an' we 'll march to Carlisle ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' its yetts, its castel, an' a', an' a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, our brave sodger lads look'd braw, an' braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' their tartans, their kilts, an' a', an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bannets an' feathers, an' glittrin' gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' pibrochs soundin' sae sweet an' clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they a' come hame to their ain dear glen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they a' return, our brave Hieland men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, second-sighted Sandie look'd fu' wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mithers grat sair whan they march'd away.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wi' a hundred pipers, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, wha is the foremaist o' a', o' a'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha is it first follows the blaw, the blaw?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Charlie, the king o' us a', us a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' his hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_227" id="vol1Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +<span class="i0">His bannet and feather, he 's waving high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His prancin' steed maist seems to fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nor' wind plays wi' his curly hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the pipers blaw up an unco flare!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wi' his hundred pipers, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Esk was swollen sae red an' sae deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twa thousand swam ower to fell English ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumfounder'd the English were a', were a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumfounder'd they a' heard the blaw, the blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumfounder'd they a' ran awa', awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae the hundred pipers, an' a', an' a'.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wi' a hundred pipers, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60" id="vol1THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60"></a>THE WOMEN ARE A' GANE WUD.<a name="vol1FNanchor_60_60" id="vol1FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The women are a' gane wud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that he had biden awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's turn'd their heads, the lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ruin will bring on us a'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">George was a peaceable man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wife she did doucely behave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now dae a' that I can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's just as wild as the lave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My wife she wears the cockade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' I 've bidden her no to do sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has a true friend in her maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they ne'er mind a word that I say.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_228" id="vol1Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The wild Hieland lads as they pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yetts wide open do flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They eat the very house bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nae leave 's speer'd o' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've lived a' my days in the Strath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now Tories infest me at hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tho' I tak nae side at a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith sides will gae me the blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The senseless creturs ne'er think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ill the lad wad bring back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pope we 'd hae, and the d—l,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the rest o' his pack.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1JEANIE_DEANS61" id="vol1JEANIE_DEANS61"></a>JEANIE DEANS.<a name="vol1FNanchor_61_61" id="vol1FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">St Leonard's hill was lightsome land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where gowan'd grass was growin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For man and beast were food and rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And milk and honey flowin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A father's blessing follow'd close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er her foot was treading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jeanie's humble, hamely joys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side were spreading wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side were spreading.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mossy turf on Arthur's Seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St Anthon's well aye springin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lammies playing at her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdies round her singin'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_229" id="vol1Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn haunts o' Holyrood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bats and hoolits eerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tow'ring crags o' Salisbury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowly wells o' Weary, O<a name="vol1FNanchor_62_62" id="vol1FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowly wells o' Weary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But evil days and evil men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came ower their sunny dwellin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like thunder-storms on sunny skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wastefu' waters swellin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What aince was sweet is bitter now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun of joy is setting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In eyes that wont to glame wi' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The briny tear is wetting fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The briny tear is wetting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her inmost thoughts to Heaven is sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In faithful supplication;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her earthly stay 's Macallummore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guardian o' the nation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hero's heart—a sister's love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A martyr's truth unbending;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're a' in Jeanie's tartan plaid—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she is gane, her leefu' lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Lunnon toun she 's wending!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_230" id="vol1Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_HEIRESS63" id="vol1THE_HEIRESS63"></a>THE HEIRESS.<a name="vol1FNanchor_63_63" id="vol1FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Gaelic Air</span>—<i>"Mo Leannan Falnich."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll no be had for naething,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll no be had for naething,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell ye, lads, that 's ae thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So ye needna follow me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the change is most surprising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last year I was plain Betty Brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to me they 're a' aspiring,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair Elizabeth I am grown!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What siller does is most amazing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nane o' them e'er look'd at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my charms they a' are praising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my sake they 're like to dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Laird, the Shirra, and the Doctor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' twa three Lords o' high degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' heaps o' Writers I could mention—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, surely this is no me!<br /></span> +<span class="i11">But I 'll no, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The yett is now for ever ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showers o' valentines aye bringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd wi' Cupids, flames, and darts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fae auld and young, wi' broken hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The siller, O the weary siller!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft in toil and trouble sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But better far it should be sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that true hearts should e'er be bought.<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Sae I 'll no, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_231" id="vol1Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there is ane, when I had naething,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' his heart he gi'ed to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sair he toil'd for a wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bring me when he cam frae sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever I should marry ony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will be the lad for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he was baith gude and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he thought the same o' me.<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Sae I 'll no, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE" id="vol1THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE"></a>THE MITHERLESS LAMMIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mitherless lammie ne'er miss'd its ain mammie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We tentit it kindly by night and by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bairnies made game o't, it had a blithe hame o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its food was the gowan—its music was "<i>mai</i>."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without tie or fetter, it couldna been better,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it would gae witless the world to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foe that it fear'd not, it saw not, it heard not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was watching its wand'ring frae Bonnington Lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what then befell it, 't were waefu' to tell it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tod Lowrie kens best, wi' his lang head sae sly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He met the pet lammie, that wanted its mammie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left its kind hame the wide world to try.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We miss'd it at day-dawn, we miss'd it at night-fa'in',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its wee shed is tenantless under the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae dusk i' the gloamin' it wad gae a roamin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T will frolic nae mair upon Bonnington Lea.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_232" id="vol1Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64" id="vol1THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64"></a>THE ATTAINTED SCOTTISH NOBLES.<a name="vol1FNanchor_64_64" id="vol1FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, some will tune their mournfu' strains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell o' hame-made sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if they cheat you o' your tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll dry upon the morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, some will sing their airy dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In verity they're sportin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sang 's o' nae sic thieveless themes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wakin' true misfortune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Scottish nobles, ane and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For loyalty attainted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nameless bardie 's wae to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your sorrows unlamented;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if your fathers ne'er had fought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For heirs of ancient royalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're down the day that might hae been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the top o' honour's tree a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For old hereditary right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For conscience' sake they stoutly stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for the crown their valiant sons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves have shed their injured blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if their fathers ne'er had fought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For heirs of ancient royalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're down the day that might hae been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the top o' honour's tree a'.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_233" id="vol1Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI" id="vol1TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI"></a>TRUE LOVE IS WATERED AYE WI' +TEARS.<a name="vol1FNanchor_65_65" id="vol1FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">True love is water'd aye wi' tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It grows 'neath stormy skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's fenced around wi' hopes and fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fann'd wi' heartfelt sighs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' chains o' gowd it will no be bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! wha the heart can buy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The titled glare, the warldling's care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even absence 'twill defy,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Even absence 'twill defy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And time, that kills a' ither things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His withering touch 'twill brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill live in joy, 'twill live in grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill live beyond the grave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill live, 'twill live, though buried deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In true heart's memorie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we forgot that ane sae fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae bricht, sae young, could dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Sae young could dee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unfeeling hands may touch the chord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where buried griefs do lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many silent agonies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May that rude touch untie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! I love that plaintive lay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dear auld melodie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh, 'tis sweet!—yet I maun greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it was sung by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Sung by thee!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_234" id="vol1Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They may forget wha lichtly love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or feel but beauty's chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they wha loved a heavenly mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never love again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' my dreams o' warld's guid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye were turn'd wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I leant on a broken reed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which soon was ta'en frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Ta'en frae me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis weel, 'tis weel, we dinna ken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What we may live to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas Mercy's hand that hung the veil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er sad futurity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye whose hearts are scathed and riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha feel the warld is vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, fix your broken earthly ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they ne'er will break again,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Break again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66" id="vol1AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66"></a>AH, LITTLE DID MY MOTHER THINK.<a name="vol1FNanchor_66_66" id="vol1FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, little did my mother think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to me she sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a heartbreak I would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her young and dautit son.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oh! how fond she was o' me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In plaid and bonnet braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I bade farewell to the north countrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marching gaed awa!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_235" id="vol1Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! little did my mother think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A banish'd man I 'd be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent frae a' my kith and kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them never mair to see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! father, 'twas the sugar'd drap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft ye did gi'e to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has brought a' this misery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith to you and me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67" id="vol1WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67"></a>WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN?<a name="vol1FNanchor_67_67" id="vol1FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Ailen Aroon."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would you be young again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So would not I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One tear to memory given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward I 'd hie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's dark flood forded o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All but at rest on shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, would you plunge once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With home so nigh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you might, would you now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retrace your way?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wander through stormy wilds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint and astray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night's gloomy watches fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning all beaming red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope's smiles around us shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavenward—away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_236" id="vol1Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where, then, are those dear ones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our joy and delight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear and more dear though now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hidden from sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they rejoice to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is the land for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly, time, fly speedily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, life and light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1REST_IS_NOT_HERE" id="vol1REST_IS_NOT_HERE"></a>REST IS NOT HERE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What 's this vain world to me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest is not here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False are the smiles I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirth I hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is youth's joyful glee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all once dear to me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone, as the shadows flee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest is not here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why did the morning shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blythely and fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why did those tints so fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanish in air?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does not the vision say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint, lingering heart, away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why in this desert stay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark land of care!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where souls angelic soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thither repair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let this vain world no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lull and ensnare.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_237" id="vol1Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That heaven I love so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in my heart shall dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things around me tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest is found there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE" id="vol1HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE"></a>HERE'S TO THEM THAT ARE GANE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Here 's a health to ane I lo'e weel."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here 's to them, to them that are gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's to them, to them that are gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's to them that were here, the faithful and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That will never be here again—no, never.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where are they now that are gane?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where are the faithful and true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're gane to the light that fears not the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' their day of rejoicing shall end—no, never.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here 's to them, to them that were here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's to them, to them that were here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's a tear and a sigh to the bliss that 's gane by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'twas ne'er like what 's coming, to last—for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bright was their morning sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bright was their morning sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lang ere the gloaming, in clouds it gaed down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the storm and the cloud are now past—for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, fareweel! parting silence is sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, how sad the last parting tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that silence shall break, where no tear on the cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can bedim the bright vision again—no, never.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_238" id="vol1Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then, speed to the wings of old Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waft us where pilgrims would be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the regions of rest, to the shores of the blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the full tide of glory shall flow—for ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL" id="vol1FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL"></a>FAREWEEL, O FAREWEEL!</h3> + +<p class='center'>GAELIC AIR.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, O fareweel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart it is sair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, O fareweel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll see him nae mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lang, lang was he mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang, lang—but nae mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mauna repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my heart it is sair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His staff 's at the wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toom, toom is his chair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bannet, an' a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I maun be here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But oh! he 's at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why sud I complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin my soul be blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll meet him again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, to meet him again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where hearts ne'er were sair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, to meet him again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To part never mair!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_239" id="vol1Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE" id="vol1THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE"></a>THE DEAD WHO HAVE DIED IN THE +LORD.<a name="vol1FNanchor_68_68" id="vol1FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go, call for the mourners, and raise the lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the tresses be torn, and the garments be rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But weep not for him who is gone to his rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mourn for the ransom'd, nor wail for the blest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun is not set, but is risen on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor long in corruption his body shall lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let not the tide of thy griefs overflow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the music of heaven be discord below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather loud be the song, and triumphant the chord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us joy for the dead who have died in the Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go, call for the mourners, and raise the lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the tresses be torn, and the garments be rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give to the living thy passion of tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who walk in this valley of sadness and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who are press'd by the combat, in darkness are lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the tempest are beat, on the billows are toss'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, weep not for those who shall sorrow no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose warfare is ended, whose combat is o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the song be exalted, be triumphant the chord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rejoice for the dead who have died in the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_240" id="vol1Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JAMES_NICOL" id="vol1JAMES_NICOL"></a>JAMES NICOL.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Magazine</i>; 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_241" id="vol1Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Encyclopædia</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_242" id="vol1Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES" id="vol1BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES"></a>BLAW SAFTLY, YE BREEZES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blaw saftly, ye breezes, ye streams, smoothly murmur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye sweet-scented blossoms, deck every green tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong your wild scatter'd flow'rets aft wanders my charmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet lovely lass wi' the black rollin' e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pensive I ponder, and languishin' wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far frae the sweet rosebud on Quair's windin' stream!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, Heaven, wring my heart wi' the hard heart o' anguish?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why torture my bosom 'tween hope and despair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When absent frae Nancy, I ever maun languish!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dear angel smile, shall it charm me nae mair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since here life 's a desert, an' pleasure 's a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear me swift to those banks which are ever my theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, mild as the mornin' at simmer's returnin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooms the sweet lovely rosebud on Quair's windin' stream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM" id="vol1BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM"></a>BY YON HOARSE MURMURIN' STREAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 'neath the moon's chilly beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadly musin' I wander, an' the tear fills my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recollection, pensive power, brings back the mournfu' hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the laddie gaed awa' that is dear, dear to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_243" id="vol1Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tender words he said, and the faithfu' vows he made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we parted, to my bosom a mournfu' pleasure gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I lo'e to pass the day where we fondly used to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' repeat the laddie's name that is dear, dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the flow'rets gem the vales, an' scent the whisperin' gales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the birds fill wi' music the sweetly-bloomin' tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though nature bid rejoice, yet sorrow tunes my voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the laddie 's far awa' that is dear, dear to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the gloamin' brings alang the time o' mirth an' sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the dance kindles joy in ilka youthfu' e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My neebours aften speir, why fa's the hidden tear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they kenna he's awa' that is dear, dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, for the happy hour, when I shall hae the power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the darlin' o' my soul, on wings o' love, to flee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that the day wad come, when fortune shall bring home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laddie to my arms that is dear, dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if—for much I fear—that day will ne'er appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae me conceal in darkness the cruel stern decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For life wad a' be vain, were I ne'er to meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the laddie far awa' that is dear, dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_244" id="vol1Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HALUCKIT_MEG" id="vol1HALUCKIT_MEG"></a>HALUCKIT MEG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meg, muckin' at Geordie's byre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrought as gin her judgment was wrang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk daud o' the scartle strake fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While loud as a lavrock she sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Geordie had promised to marry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Meg, a sworn fae to despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not dreamin' the job could miscarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already seem'd mistress an' mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My neebours," she sang, "aften jeer me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ca' me daft haluckit Meg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' say they expect soon to hear me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the kirk, for my fun, get a fleg.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' now, 'bout my marriage they 'll clatter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Geordie, puir fallow, they ca'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An auld doited hav'rel,—nae matter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll keep me aye brankin an' braw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I grant ye, his face is kenspeckle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the white o' his e'e is turn'd out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his black beard is rough as a heckle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his mou' to his lug 's rax'd about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they needna let on that he 's crazie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pikestaff will ne'er let him fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor that his hair 's white as a daisy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fient a hair has he ava'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But a weel-plenish'd mailin has Geordie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' routh o' gude gowd in his kist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' if siller comes at my wordie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His beauty I never will miss 't.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_245" id="vol1Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Daft gowks, wha catch fire like tinder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think love-raptures ever will burn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wi' poortith, hearts het as a cinder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will cauld as an iceshugle turn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There 'll just be ae bar to my pleasures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bar that 's aft fill'd me wi' fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's sic a hard near-be-gawn miser,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He likes his saul less than his gear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though I now flatter his failin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' swear nought wi' gowd can compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gude sooth! it shall soon get a scailin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bags sall be mouldie nae mair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I dreamt that I rode in a chariot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flunkie ahint me in green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Geordie cried out he was harriet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the saut tear was blindin' his een.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though 'gainst my spendin' he swear aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hae frae him what ser's my turn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him slip awa' whan he grows wearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shame fa' me, gin lang I wad mourn!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Geordie, while Meg was haranguin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was cloutin' his breeks i' the bauks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' whan a' his failin's she brang in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His strang hazel pikestaff he taks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Designin' to rax her a lounder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chanced on the lather to shift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' down frae the bauks, flat 's a flounder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flew like a shot starn frae the lift!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_246" id="vol1Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE" id="vol1MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE"></a>MY DEAR LITTLE LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dear little lassie, why, what 's a' the matter?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart it gangs pittypat—winna lie still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've waited, and waited, an' a' to grow better,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lassie, believe me, I 'm aye growin' ill!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My head 's turn'd quite dizzy, an' aft, when I 'm speakin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh, an' am breathless, and fearfu' to speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaze aye for something I fain would be seekin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lassie, I kenna weel what I would seek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy praise, bonnie lassie, I ever could hear of,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, when to ruse ye the neebour lads try—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it 's a' true they tell ye—yet never sae far off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could see 'em ilk ane, an' I canna tell why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we tedded the hayfield, I raked ilka rig o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never grew weary the lang simmer day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rucks that ye wrought at were easiest biggit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I fand sweeter scented around ye the hay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In har'st, whan the kirn-supper joys mak us cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang the lave o' the lasses I preed yer sweet mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear save us! how queer I felt whan I cam' near ye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My breast thrill'd in rapture, I couldna tell how.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we dance at the gloamin', it 's you I aye pitch on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gin ye gang by me, how dowie I be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's something, dear lassie, about ye bewitching,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells me my happiness centres in thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_247" id="vol1Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JAMES_MONTGOMERY"></a>JAMES MONTGOMERY.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_248" id="vol1Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +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 <i>Register</i> newspaper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_249" id="vol1Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>Register</i>, +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.</p> + +<p>The first number of the newspaper under the poet's +care, the name being changed to that of <i>The Sheffield +Iris</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_250" id="vol1Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +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 <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, +at once procured an honourable place for the author +among his contemporaries. He became sole proprietor +of the <i>Iris</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_251" id="vol1Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Next to heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of my fathers! thee I love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, rail thy slanderers as they will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all thy faults I love thee still.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I sang, likewise, the love of home—its charities, endearments +and relationships—all that makes 'Home sweet Home,' the recol<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_252" id="vol1Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>lection +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 <i>is</i> +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."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_253" id="vol1Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH" id="vol1FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH"></a>"FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH."</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When "Friendship, Love, and Truth" abound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among a band of brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup of joy goes gaily round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each shares the bliss of others.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet roses grace the thorny way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along this vale of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers that shed their leaves to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bloom again to-morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grand in age, how fair in youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On halcyon wings our moments pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's cruel cares beguiling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gay good-humour smiling:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ermine beard and forelock gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His reverend part adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looks like Winter turn'd to May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night soften'd into Morning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grand in age, how fair in youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From these delightful fountains flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ambrosial rills of pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can man desire, can Heaven bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A more resplendent treasure?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorn'd with gems so richly bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will form a constellation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every star, with modest light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gild its proper station.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grand in age, how fair in youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_254" id="vol1Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A" id="vol1THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A"></a>THE SWISS COWHERD'S SONG IN A +FOREIGN LAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'>IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest land on the face of the earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall I those scenes of affection explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our forests, our fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our hamlets, our mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pride of our mountains, the maid I adore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the shade of an elm, to the sound of a reed?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When shall I return to that lowly retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lambs and the heifers, that follow my call,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My father, my mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sister, my brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear Isabella, the joy of them all?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the loveliest land on the face of the earth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1GERMAN_WAR-SONG69" id="vol1GERMAN_WAR-SONG69"></a>GERMAN WAR-SONG.<a name="vol1FNanchor_69_69" id="vol1FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heaven speed the righteous sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freedom be the word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, brethren, hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fight for your fatherland.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_255" id="vol1Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Germania from afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invokes her sons to war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake! put forth your powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And victory must be ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On to the combat, on!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go where your sires have gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their might unspent remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their pulse is in our veins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On to the battle, on!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest will be sweet anon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slave may yield, may fly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We conquer, or we die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Liberty! thy form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines through the battle-storm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away with fear, away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let justice win the day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS" id="vol1VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS"></a>VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night turns to day:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When sullen darkness lowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And heaven and earth are hid from sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere long the opening flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With dewy eyes, shall shine in light.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_256" id="vol1Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Storms die in calms:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When over land and ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Roll the loud chariots of the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The voice of wild commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Proclaims tranquillity behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winter wakes spring:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When icy blasts are blowing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er frozen lakes, through naked trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All beautiful and glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May floats in fragrance on the breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">War ends in peace:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though dread artillery rattle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And ghostly corses load the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where groan'd the field of battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The song, the dance, the feast, go round.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Toil brings repose:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With noontide fervours beating,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When droop thy temples o'er thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gray twilight, cool and fleeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wafts on its wing the hour of rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death springs to life:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though brief and sad thy story,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy years all spent in care and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Look up, look up;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Eternity and glory<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dawn through the portals of the tomb.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_257" id="vol1Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST" id="vol1VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST"></a>VERSES TO A ROBIN RED-BREAST,<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">WHICH VISITS THE WINDOW OF MY PRISON EVERY DAY.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Welcome, pretty little stranger!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcome to my lone retreat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, secure from every danger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hop about, and chirp, and eat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robin! how I envy thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy child of Liberty!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, though tyrant Winter, howling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shakes the world with tempests round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven above with vapours scowling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frost imprisons all the ground:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robin! what are these to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art bless'd with liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though yon fair majestic river<a name="vol1FNanchor_70_70" id="vol1FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourns in solid icy chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though yon flocks and cattle shiver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the desolated plains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robin! thou art gay and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy in thy liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hunger never shall disturb thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my rates one crumb afford;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colds nor cramps shall ne'er oppress thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come and share my humble board:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robin! come and live with me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live, yet still at liberty.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_258" id="vol1Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon shall Spring, in smiles and blushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal upon the blooming year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, amid the enamour'd bushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet song shall warble clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall I, too, join with thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swell the hymn of Liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should some rough, unfeeling dobbin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this iron-hearted age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seize thee on thy nest, my Robin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And confine thee in a cage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, poor prisoner! think of me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think, and sigh for liberty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SLAVERY_THAT_WAS" id="vol1SLAVERY_THAT_WAS"></a>SLAVERY THAT WAS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ages, ages have departed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the first dark vessel bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afric's children, broken-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Caribbéan shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, like Rachel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping, for they were no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Millions, millions, have been slaughter'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the fight and on the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions, millions more have water'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such tears as captives weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fields of travail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where their bones till doomsday sleep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_259" id="vol1Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mercy, Mercy, vainly pleading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rent her garments, smote her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a voice from Heaven proceeding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gladden'd all the gloomy west,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come, ye weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, and I will give you rest!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tidings, tidings of salvation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Britons rose with one accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purged the plague-spot from our nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Negroes to their rights restored;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slaves no longer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Freemen,—freemen</i> of the <i>Lord</i>.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_260" id="vol1Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ANDREW_SCOTT" id="vol1ANDREW_SCOTT"></a>ANDREW SCOTT.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_261" id="vol1Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_262" id="vol1Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol1FNanchor_71_71" id="vol1FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_263" id="vol1Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND" id="vol1RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND"></a>RURAL CONTENT; OR, THE MUIRLAND +FARMER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm now a guid farmer, I 've acres o' land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart aye loups light when I 'm viewing o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I hae servants at my command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twa dainty cowts for the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My farm is a snug ane, lies high on a muir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The muircocks and plivers aft skirl at my door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whan the sky low'rs I 'm aye sure o' a show'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To moisten my land for the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leeze me on the mailin that 's fa'n to my share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It taks sax muckle bowes for the sawin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've sax braid acres for pasture, and mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a dainty bit bog for the mawin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spence and a kitchen my mansionhouse gies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've a cantie wee wifie to daut whan I please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twa bairnies, twa callans, that skelp o'er the leas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they 'll soon can assist at the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My biggin' stands sweet on this south slopin' hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sun shines sae bonnily beamin' on 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And past my door trots a clear prattlin' rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae the loch, whare the wild-ducks are swimmin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its green banks, on the gay simmer days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wifie trips barefoot, a-bleachin' her claes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the dear creature wi' rapture I gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I whistle and sing at the plowin' o't.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_264" id="vol1Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To rank amang farmers I hae muckle pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I mauna speak high when I 'm tellin' o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How brawlie I strut on my shelty to ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a sample to shew for the sellin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In blue worset boots that my auld mither span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've aft been fu' vanty sin' I was a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now they 're flung by, and I 've bought cordivan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my wifie ne'er grudged me a shillin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae now, whan to kirk or to market I gae—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weelfare what need I be hiddin' o't?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In braw leather boots shinin' black as the slae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dink me to try the ridin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last towmond I sell'd off four bowes o' guid bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thankfu' I was, for the victual was dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I came hame wi' spurs on my heels shinin' clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had sic good luck at the sellin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now hairst time is o'er, and a fig for the laird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My rent 's now secure for the toilin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fields are a' bare, and my crap 's in the yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'm nae mair in doubts o' the spoilin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now welcome gude weather, or wind, or come weet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bauld ragin' winter, wi' hail, snaw, or sleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair can he draigle my crap 'mang his feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wraik his mischief, and be spoilin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on the douf days, whan loud hurricanes blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fu' snug i' the spence I 'll be viewin' o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And jink the rude blast in my rush-theekit ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan fields are seal'd up from the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonny wee wifie, the bairnies, and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peat-stack, and turf-stack our Phœbus shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till day close the scoul o' its angry ee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we 'll rest in gude hopes o' the plowin' o't.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_265" id="vol1Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whan the year smiles, and the lavrocks sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My man Jock and me shall be doin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll thrash, and I 'll toil on the fields in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn up the soil at the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whan the wee flow'rets begin then to blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lavrock, the peasweep, and skirlin' pickmaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall hiss the bleak winter to Lapland awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'll ply the blythe hours at the sawin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whan the birds sing on the sweet simmer morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My new crap I 'll keek at the growin' o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan hares niffer love 'mang the green-bairdit corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dew draps the tender blade shewin' o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my brick o' fallow my labours I 'll ply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And view on their pasture my twa bonny kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till hairst-time again circle round us wi' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the fruits o' the sawin' and plowin' o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor need I to envy our braw gentle focks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha fash na their thumbs wi' the sawing o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er slip their fine silken hands in the pocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor foul their black shoon wi' the plowin' o't:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, pleased wi' the little that fortune has lent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seasons row round us in rural content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've aye milk and meal, and our laird gets his rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I whistle and sing at the plowin' o't.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SYMON_AND_JANET" id="vol1SYMON_AND_JANET"></a>SYMON AND JANET.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Fy, let us a' to the Bridal."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surrounded wi' bent and wi' heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare muircocks and plivers are rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mony lang towmond thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lived an auld man and his wife.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_266" id="vol1Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">About the affairs o' the nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twasome they seldom were mute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonaparte, the French, and invasion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did saur in their wizens like soot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In winter, when deep are the gutters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night's gloomy canopy spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Symon sat luntin' his cuttie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lowsin' his buttons for bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Auld Janet, his wife, out a-gazin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lock in the door was her care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seein' our signals a-blazin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came runnin' in, rivin' her hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Symon, the Frenchmen are landit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae look man, and slip on your shoon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our signals I see them extendit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like red risin' blaze o' the moon!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What plague, the French landit!" quo' Symon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clash gaed his pipe to the wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Faith, then there's be loadin' and primin',"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quo' he, "if they 're landit ava.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Our youngest son 's in the militia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our eldest grandson 's volunteer:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the French to be fu' o' the flesh o',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I too in the ranks shall appear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His waistcoat pouch fill'd he wi' pouther,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bang'd down his rusty auld gun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bullets he put in the other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he for the purpose had run.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_267" id="vol1Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then humpled he out in a hurry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Janet his courage bewails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cried out, "Dear Symon, be wary!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teughly she hang by his tails.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let be wi' your kindness," quo' Symon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Nor vex me wi' tears and your cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now to be ruled by a woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae laurels shall crown my gray hairs."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quo' Janet, "Oh, keep frae the riot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night, man, I dreamt ye was dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This aught days I tentit a pyot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit chatt'rin' upo' the house-head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And yesterday, workin' my stockin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you wi' the sheep on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A muckle black corbie sat croakin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kend it foreboded some ill."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hout, cheer up, dear Janet, be hearty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ere the next sun may gae down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha kens but I 'll shoot Bonaparte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And end my auld days in renown?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then hear me," quo' Janet, "I pray thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll tend thee, love, living or dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if thou should fa' I 'll die wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tie up thy wounds if thou bleed."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Syne aff in a fury he stumpled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bullets, and pouther, and gun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At 's curpin auld Janet too humpled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa to the next neighb'rin' town.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_268" id="vol1Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There footmen and yeomen paradin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scour aff in dirdum were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld wives and young lasses a-sheddin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The briny saut tears frae their een.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then aff wi' his bannet gat Symon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the commander he gaes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quo' he, "Sir, I mean to gae wi' ye, man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And help ye to lounder our faes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'm auld, yet I 'm teugh as the wire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae we 'll at the rogues have a dash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, fegs, if my gun winna fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll turn her butt-end, and I 'll thrash."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well spoken, my hearty old hero,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captain did smiling reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But begg'd he wad stay till to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till daylight should glent in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whatreck, a' the stour cam to naething;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae Symon, and Janet his dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hale skart frae the wars, without skaithing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaed bannin' the French again hame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1COQUET_WATER" id="vol1COQUET_WATER"></a>COQUET WATER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Braw Lads of Gala Water."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan winter winds forget to blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' vernal suns revive pale nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd lad by chance I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeding his flocks by Coquet water.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_269" id="vol1Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saft, saft he sung, in melting lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Mary's charms an' matchless feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While echoes answer'd frae the braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That skirt the banks of Coquet water.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, were that bonnie lassie mine,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, "in love's saft wiles I'd daut her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' deem mysel' as happy syne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As landit laird on Coquet water.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let wealthy rakes for pleasure roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In foreign lands their fortune fritter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love's pure joys be mine at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' my dear lass on Coquet water.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gie fine focks wealth, yet what care I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gie me her smiles whom I lo'e better;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest wi' her love an' life's calm joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tending my flocks by Coquet water.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Flow fair an' clear, thou bonnie stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on thy banks aft hae I met her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair may the bonnie wild-flowers gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That busk the banks of Coquet water."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE" id="vol1THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE"></a>THE YOUNG MAID'S WISH FOR PEACE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Far frae Hame," &c.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the nations restored again to unity an' peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then mony a bonnie laddie, that 's now far owre the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad return to his lassie, an' his ain countrie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_270" id="vol1Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lad was call'd awa for to cross the stormy main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' to face the battle's bray in the cause of injured Spain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my love's departure hard fate has injured me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has reft him frae my arms, an' his ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When he bade me adieu, oh! my heart was like to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the parting tear dropp'd down for my dear laddie's sake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind Heavens protect my Willie, wherever he be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' restore him to my arms, an' his ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, may the fates defend him upon that hostile shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the rage of battle, where thund'ring cannons roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sad hour of danger, when deadly bullets flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far frae the peacefu' plains of his ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wae 's me, that vice had proven the source of blood an' war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sawn amang the nations the seeds of feud an' jar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it was cruel Cain, an' his grim posterity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First began the bloody wark in their ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' oh! what widows weep, an' helpless orphans cry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a far foreign shore now, the dear, dear ashes lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose life-blood stain'd the gowans of some far foreign lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far frae their kith an' kin, an' their ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail the day, speed the day, then, when a' the wars are done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' may ilk British laddie return wi' laurels won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my dear Willie's brows may they flourish bonnily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' be wi' the myrtle twined in his ain countrie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_271" id="vol1Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I hope the time is near, when sweet peace her olive wand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lay the fiend of war shall soon stretch o'er every land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When swords turn'd into ploughshares and pruning-hooks shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the nations a' live happy in their ain countrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW" id="vol1THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW"></a>THE FIDDLER'S WIDOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was a musician wha play'd a good stick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had a sweet wife an' a fiddle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' in his profession he had right good luck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At bridals his elbow to diddle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! the poor fiddler soon chancéd to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a' men to dust must return;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the poor widow cried, wi' the tear in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That as lang as she lived she wad mourn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alane by the hearth she disconsolate sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lamenting the day that she saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye as she look'd on the fiddle she grat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That silent now hang on the wa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair shane the red rose on the young widow's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae newly weel washen wi' tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in came a younker some comfort to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha whisper'd fond love in her ears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear lassie," he cried, "I am smit wi' your charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consent but to marry me now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm as good as ever laid hair upon thairms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I 'll cheer baith the fiddle an' you."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_272" id="vol1Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The young widow blush'd, but sweet smiling she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dear sir, to dissemble I hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we twa thegither are doom'd to be wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folks needna contend against fate."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He took down the fiddle as dowie it hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' put a' the thairms in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young widow dighted her cheeks an' she sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her heart lap her sorrows aboon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now sound sleep the dead in his cauld bed o' clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death still the dearest maun sever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now he 's forgot, an' his widow's fu' gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' his fiddle 's as merry as ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF" id="vol1LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF"></a>LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF AN IRISH CHIEF.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's no more on the green hill, he has left the wide forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom, sad by the lone rill, thou, loved dame, deplorest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We saw in his dim eye the beam of life quiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its bright orb to light again no more for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud twang'd thy bow, mighty youth, in the foray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dread gleam'd thy brand in the proud field of glory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when heroes sat round in the Psalter of Tara,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His counsel was sage as was fatal his arrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in war's loud commotion the hostile Dane landed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or seen on the ocean with white sail expanded,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_273" id="vol1Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like thee, swoll'n stream, down our steep vale that roarest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce was the chieftain that harass'd them sorest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Proud stem of our ancient line, nipt while in budding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sweet flowers' too early gem spring-fields bestudding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our noble pine 's fall'n, that waved on our mountain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our mighty rock dash'd from the brink of our fountain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our lady is lonely, our halls are deserted—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty is fallen, our hope is departed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud wail for the fate from our clan that did sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom we shall behold again no more for ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER" id="vol1THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER"></a>THE DEPARTURE OF SUMMER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu, lovely Summer! I see thee declining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh, for thy exit is near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy once glowing beauties by Autumn are pining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now presses hard on thy rear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The late blowing flowers now thy pale cheek adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Droop sick as they nod on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The groves, too, are silent, no minstrel of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrill warbles his song from the tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aurora peeps silent, and sighs a lorn widow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No warbler to lend her a lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the shrill lark quits the dew-spangled meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wont for to welcome the day.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_274" id="vol1Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sage Autumn sits sad now on hill, dale, and valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each landscape how pensive its mien!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They languish, they languish! I see them fade daily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And losing their liv'ry of green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Virtue, come waft me on thy silken pinions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where purer streamlets still flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where summer, unceasing, pervades thy dominions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor stormy bleak wint'ry winds blow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_275" id="vol1Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART" id="vol1SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART"></a>SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_276" id="vol1Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_277" id="vol1Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 locali<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_278" id="vol1Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>ties +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_279" id="vol1Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The prosperity of the poet rose with his fame. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_280" id="vol1Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +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 <i>Edinburgh Annual Register</i>, +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_281" id="vol1Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_282" id="vol1Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +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 <i>laird</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_283" id="vol1Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_284" id="vol1Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +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," <i>first series</i>; 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 <i>Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopædia</i>. In 1829<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_285" id="vol1Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +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 <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, during +the first year of its career; wrote the articles, "Chivalry," +"Romance," and "Drama," for the sixth edition of the +<i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>; and during his latter years contributed +somewhat copiously to the <i>Quarterly Review</i>.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_286" id="vol1Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_287" id="vol1Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +their popularity.<a name="vol1FNanchor_72_72" id="vol1FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Quarterly Review</i>, and his literary executor. This +sole descendant, a grand-daughter, is the wife of Mr<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_288" id="vol1Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The grass is trodden by the feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thousands, from a thousand lands—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prince, the peasant, tottering age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rosy schoolboy bands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All crowd to fairy Abbotsford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lingering gaze, and gaze the more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang o'er the chair in which <i>he</i> sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The latest dress <i>he</i> wore."<a name="vol1FNanchor_73_73" id="vol1FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_289" id="vol1Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74" id="vol1IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74"></a>IT WAS AN ENGLISH LADYE BRIGHT.<a name="vol1FNanchor_74_74" id="vol1FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was an English ladye bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she would marry a Scottish knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love will still be lord of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blithely they saw the rising sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he shone fair on Carlisle wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they were sad ere day was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Love was still the lord of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sire gave brooch and jewel fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brother gave but a flask of wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ire that Love was lord of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For she had lands, both meadow and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he swore her death, ere he would see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Scottish knight the lord of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That wine she had not tasted well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When dead in her true love's arms she fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love was still the lord of all.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_290" id="vol1Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He pierced her brother to the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So perish all would true love part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love may still be lord of all!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then he took the cross divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And died for her sake in Palestine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Love was still the lord of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray for their souls who died for love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love shall still be lord of all!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1LOCHINVAR75" id="vol1LOCHINVAR75"></a>LOCHINVAR.<a name="vol1FNanchor_75_75" id="vol1FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the wide border his steed was the best;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride had consented, the gallant came late:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_291" id="vol1Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So stately his form, and so lovely her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never a hall such a galliard did grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'Twere better, by far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So light to the saddle before her he sprung!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_292" id="vol1Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76" id="vol1WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76"></a>WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST.<a name="vol1FNanchor_76_76" id="vol1FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shall the lover rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the fates sever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his true maiden's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parted for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, through groves deep and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds the far billow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where early violets die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the willow.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eleu loro, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soft shall be his pillow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, through the summer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool streams are laving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, while the tempests sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce are boughs waving;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_293" id="vol1Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There, thy rest shalt thou take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parted for ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never again to wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never, O never!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eleu loro, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Never, O never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shall the traitor rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, the deceiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could win maiden's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruin, and leave her?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the lost battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne down by the flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where mingle war's rattle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With groans of the dying.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eleu loro, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There shall he be lying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her wing shall the eagle flap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the false-hearted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His warm blood the wolf shall lap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere life be parted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shame and dishonour sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his grave ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessing shall hallow it,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never, O never!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eleu loro, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Never, O never!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_294" id="vol1Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77" id="vol1SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77"></a>SOLDIER, REST! THY WARFARE O'ER.<a name="vol1FNanchor_77_77" id="vol1FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream of battle-fields no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Days of danger, nights of waking.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our isle's enchanted hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairy strains of music fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every sense in slumber dewing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream of fighting fields no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morn of toil, nor night of waking.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No rude sound shall reach thine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Armour's clang, or war-steed champing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trump nor pibroch summon here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the lark's shrill fife may come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the daybreak from the fallow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bittern sound his drum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Booming from the sedgy shallow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruder sounds shall none be near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guards nor wardens challenge here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouting clans, or squadrons' stamping.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While our slumbrous spells assail ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream not, with the rising sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bugles here shall sound reveillé.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_295" id="vol1Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep! the deer is in his den;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How thy gallant steed lay dying.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not of the rising sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For at dawning to assail ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here no bugles sound reveillé.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78" id="vol1HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78"></a>HAIL TO THE CHIEF WHO IN TRIUMPH ADVANCES!<a name="vol1FNanchor_78_78" id="vol1FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail to the chief who in triumph advances!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green pine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Heaven send it happy dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Earth lend it sap anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While every Highland glen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sends our shout back agen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Moor'd in the rifted rock<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Proof to the tempest shock,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_296" id="vol1Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Menteith and Breadalbane, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Echo his praise agen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Proudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Fruin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Widow and Saxon maid<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Long shall lament our raid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lennox and Leven-Glen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shake when they hear agen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretch to your oars for the ever-green pine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that the rosebud that graces yon islands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O that some seedling gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Worthy such noble stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Loud should Clan-Alpine then<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ring from the deepmost glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_297" id="vol1Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79" id="vol1THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79"></a>THE HEATH THIS NIGHT MUST BE MY BED.<a name="vol1FNanchor_79_79" id="vol1FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heath this night must be my bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bracken curtains for my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lullaby the warder's tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far from love and thee, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My couch may be the bloody plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will not waken me, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I may not, dare not, fancy now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare not think upon thy vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all it promised me, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No fond regret must Norman know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart must be like bended bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His foot like arrow free, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A time will come with feeling fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if I fall in battle fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hapless lover's dying thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if return'd from conquer'd foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blithely will the evening close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet the linnet sing repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my young bride and me, Mary!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_298" id="vol1Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80" id="vol1THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80"></a>THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN.<a name="vol1FNanchor_80_80" id="vol1FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hawk is tired of perch and hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My idle greyhound loathes his food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My horse is weary of his stall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am sick of captive thrall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish I were as I have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunting the hart in forest green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bended bow and bloodhound free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that 's the life is meet for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hate to learn the ebb of time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inch after inch, along the wall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark was wont my matins ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sable rook my vespers sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These towers, although a king's they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not a hall of joy for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more at dawning morn I rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drive the fleet deer the forest through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And homeward wend with evening dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blithesome welcome blithely meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay my trophies at her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fled the eve on wing of glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That life is lost to love and me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_299" id="vol1Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81" id="vol1HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81"></a>HE IS GONE ON THE MOUNTAIN.<a name="vol1FNanchor_81_81" id="vol1FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is gone on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is lost to the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a summer-dried fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When our need was the sorest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The font re-appearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rain-drops shall borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to us comes no cheering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Duncan no morrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand of the reaper<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes the ears that are hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the voice of the weeper<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wails manhood in glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The autumn winds rushing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wafts the leaves that are searest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But our flower was in flushing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blighting was nearest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fleet foot on the corrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sage counsel in cumber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red hand in the foray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sound is thy slumber!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the dew on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the foam on the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the bubble on the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art gone, and for ever.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_300" id="vol1Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82" id="vol1A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82"></a>A WEARY LOT IS THINE, FAIR MAID.<a name="vol1FNanchor_82_82" id="vol1FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A weary lot is thine, fair maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weary lot is thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And press the rue for wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A feather of the blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A doublet of the Lincoln green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more of me ye knew, my love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more of me ye knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This morn is merry June, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose is budding fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she shall bloom in winter snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere we two meet again."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He turn'd his charger as he spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the river shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave his bridle-reins a shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said, "Adieu for evermore, my love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adieu for evermore."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1ALLEN-A-DALE83" id="vol1ALLEN-A-DALE83"></a>ALLEN-A-DALE.<a name="vol1FNanchor_83_83" id="vol1FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, read me my riddle! come, hearken my tale!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_301" id="vol1Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he views his domains upon Arkindale side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mere for his net, and the land for his game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the fish of the lake and the deer of the vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother she asked of his household and home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with all its bright spangles," said Allen-a-Dale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The father was steel and the mother was stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_302" id="vol1Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84" id="vol1THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84"></a>THE CYPRESS WREATH.<a name="vol1FNanchor_84_84" id="vol1FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lady! twine no wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or twine it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too lively glow the lilies' light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The varnish'd holly 's all too bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mayflower and the eglantine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May shade a brow less sad than mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, lady, weave no wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or weave it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let dimpled mirth his temples twine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tendrils of the laughing vine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The manly oak, the pensive yew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To patriot and to sage be due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myrtle bough bids lovers live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that Matilda will not give;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lady, twine no wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or twine it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let merry England proudly rear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her blended roses, bought so dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Albin bind her bonnet blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heath and harebell dipp'd in dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On favour'd Erin's crest be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower she loves of emerald green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, lady, twine no wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or twine it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strike the wild harp while maids prepare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ivy meet for minstrel's hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, while his crown of laurel-leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bloody hand the victor weaves,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_303" id="vol1Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let the loud trump his triumph tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when you hear the passing-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lady, twine a wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twine it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, twine for me the cypress bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, O Matilda, twine not now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay till a few brief months are past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I have look'd and loved my last!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When villagers my shroud bestrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pansies, rosemary, and rue,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lady, weave a wreath for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weave it of the cypress-tree!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_CAVALIER85" id="vol1THE_CAVALIER85"></a>THE CAVALIER.<a name="vol1FNanchor_85_85" id="vol1FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My true love has mounted his steed and away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has doff'd the silk doublet the breastplate to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has placed the steel cap o'er his long flowing hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her king is his leader, her church is his cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His watchword is honour, his pay is renown,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God strike with the gallant that strikes for the crown!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_304" id="vol1Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the spears of the north have encircled the crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's Erin's high Ormond, and Scotland's Montrose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the barons of England that fight for the crown?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now joy to the crest of the brave cavalier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be his banner unconquer'd, resistless his spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a pledge to fair England, her church, and her crown!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1HUNTING_SONG86" id="vol1HUNTING_SONG86"></a>HUNTING SONG.<a name="vol1FNanchor_86_86" id="vol1FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain dawns the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the jolly chase is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hounds are in their couples yelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merrily, merrily, mingle they—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Waken, lords and ladies gay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist has left the mountain gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springlets in the dawn are steaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diamonds on the brake are gleaming:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_305" id="vol1Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And foresters have busy been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To track the buck in thicket green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we come to chant our lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Waken, lords and ladies gay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the green-wood haste away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can shew you where he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleet of foot and tall of size;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can shew the marks he made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall see him brought to bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Waken, lords and ladies gay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Louder, louder chant the lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run a course as well as we;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of this, and rise with day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle lords and ladies gay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT" id="vol1OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT"></a>OH, SAY NOT, MY LOVE, WITH THAT +MORTIFIED AIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That your spring-time of pleasure is flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For those raptures that still are thine own.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_306" id="vol1Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its tendrils in infancy curl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose life-blood enlivens the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though thy form, that was fashion'd as light as a fay's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has assumed a proportion more round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks soberly now on the ground—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough, after absence to meet me again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy steps still with ecstacy move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough, that those dear sober glances retain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me the kind language of love.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_307" id="vol1Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_308" id="vol1Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_309" id="vol1Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN" id="vol1ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN"></a>ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN).</h2> + +<p>Robert Mackay, called <i>Donn</i>, from the colour of his +hair, which was brown or chestnut, was born in the +Strathmore of Sutherlandshire, about the year 1714.</p> + +<p>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 <i>unconsidered trifle</i> 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.</p> + +<p>Mackay was happily married, and brought up a large +family in habits and sentiments of piety; a fact which<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_310" id="vol1Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +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.<a name="vol1FNanchor_87_87" id="vol1FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> 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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_88_88" id="vol1FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> and +no less than Sir Walter Scott for his reviewer.<a name="vol1FNanchor_89_89" id="vol1FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_311" id="vol1Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_SONG_OF_WINTER" id="vol1THE_SONG_OF_WINTER"></a>THE SONG OF WINTER.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At waking so early<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was snow on the Ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, the glen of the hill in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm-drift so chilling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linnet was stilling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That couch'd in its den;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poor robin was shrilling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sorrow his strain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every grove was expecting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its leaf shed in gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sap it is draining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down rootwards 'tis straining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bark it is waning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dry as the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blackbird at morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is shrieking his doom.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_312" id="vol1Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ceases thriving, the knotted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stunted birk-shaw;<a name="vol1FNanchor_90_90" id="vol1FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the rough wind is blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the drift of the snowing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is shaking, o'erthrowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The copse on the law.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the season when nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all in the sere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her snow-showers are hailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rain-sleet assailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mountain winds wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rime-frosts severe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the season of leanness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unkindness, and chill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its whistle is ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An iciness bringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the brown leaves are clinging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In helplessness, still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the snow-rush is delving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With furrows the hill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is in hiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or frozen its beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the peaks where he lingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the glens, where the singers,<a name="vol1FNanchor_91_91" id="vol1FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_313" id="vol1Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With their bills and small fingers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are raking the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or picking the midstead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For forage—and scream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When darkens the gloaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, scant is their cheer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All benumb'd is their song in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hedge they are thronging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for shelter still longing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mortar<a name="vol1FNanchor_92_92" id="vol1FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> they tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever noisily, noisily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Squealing their care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The running stream's chieftain<a name="vol1FNanchor_93_93" id="vol1FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is trailing to land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So flabby, so grimy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sickly, so slimy,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spots of his prime he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has rusted with sand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crook-snouted his crest is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That taper'd so grand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How mournful in winter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowing of kine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How lean-back'd they shiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How draggled their cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How their nostrils run over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With drippings of brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So scraggy and crining<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cold frost they pine.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_314" id="vol1Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis hallow-mass time, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mildness farewell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its bristles are low'ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With darkness; o'erpowering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are its waters, aye showering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With onset so fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem the kid and the yearling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rung their death-knell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every out-lying creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sinew'd soe'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeks the refuge of shelter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The race of the antler<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They snort and they falter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-cold in their lair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fawns they are wasting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since their kin is afar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such the songs that are saddest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreariest of all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ever am eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the morning to hear ye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When foddering, to cheer the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor herd in the stall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each creature is moaning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sickening in thrall.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_315" id="vol1Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN" id="vol1DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN"></a>DIRGE FOR IAN MACECHAN.</h3> + +<h4>A FRAGMENT.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mackay was entertained by Macechan, who was a respectable +store-farmer, from his earliest life to his marriage. According +to his reverend biographer,<a name="vol1FNanchor_94_94" id="vol1FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> the last lines of the elegy, of which +the following is a translation, were much approved.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see the wretch of high degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though poverty has struck his race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass with a darkness on his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That door of hospitality.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see the widow in her tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark as her woe—I see her boy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From both, want reaves the dregs of joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flash of youth through rags appears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see the poor's—the minstrel's lot—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As brethren they—no boon for song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the unrequited wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call for its helper, who is not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hear my plaint, and ask me, why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You ask me <i>when</i> this deep distress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Began to rage without redress?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"With Ian Macechan's dying sigh!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER" id="vol1THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER"></a>THE SONG OF THE FORSAKEN DROVER.</h3> + +<p>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 compo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_316" id="vol1Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>sition; +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 <i>Quarterly Review</i>, 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.</p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fly from the fold, since my passion's despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer must harbour the charms that are there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anne's<a name="vol1FNanchor_95_95" id="vol1FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> slender eyebrows, her sleek tresses so long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her turreted bosom—and Isabel's<a name="vol1FNanchor_96_96" id="vol1FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What has been, and is not—woe 's my thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It must not be spoken, nor can be forgot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wander'd the fold, and I rambled the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each spot it reported the kiss of my love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I saw her caressing another—and feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis distraction to hear them, and see them so leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What has been, and is not, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since 'twas told that a rival beguil'd thee away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams of my love are the dreams of dismay;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_317" id="vol1Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though unsummon'd of thee,<a name="vol1FNanchor_97_97" id="vol1FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> love has captured thy thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my hope of redemption for ever is small.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day and night, though I strive aye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shake him away, still he clings like the ivy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, auburn-hair'd Anna! to tell thee my plight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis old love unrequited that prostrates my might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In presence or absence, aye faithful, my smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still racks, and still searches, and tugs at my heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken that heart, yet why disappear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my country, without one embrace from my dear?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She answers with laughter and haughty disdain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To handle my snood you petition in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Six suitors are mine since the year thou wert gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What art <i>thou</i>, that thou should'st be the favourite one?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou sick? Ha, ha, for thy woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou dying for love? Troth, love's payment was slow."<a name="vol1FNanchor_98_98" id="vol1FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though my anger may feign it requites thy disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vaunts in thy absence, it threatens in vain—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_318" id="vol1Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All in vain! for thy image in fondness returns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er thy sweet likeness expectancy burns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I hope—yes, I hope once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till my hope waxes high as a tower<a name="vol1FNanchor_99_99" id="vol1FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> in its soar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE" id="vol1ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE"></a>ISABEL MACKAY—THE MAID ALONE.</h3> + +<h4>TO A PIOBRACH TUNE.</h4> + +<p>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 <i>manége</i>, and not a mere milk-maid +or dairy-woman.</p> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Isabel Mackay is alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Isabel Mackay is alone, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seest thou Isabel Mackay with the milk kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the forest foot—and alone?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_319" id="vol1Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the Virgin and Son!<a name="vol1FNanchor_100_100" id="vol1FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bride-lacking one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever thy time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is coming, begone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The occasion is prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Isabel Mackay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is with the milk kye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the skirts of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her is none.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the Virgin and Son, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe is the sign!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the lads that dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around us, so brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the mistress fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Riothan-a-dave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is out with the kine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her is none.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O, woe is the sign, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whoever he be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That a bride would gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gentle degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a drove or twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His speed let him strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Riothan-a-dave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bride he shall have.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, to her so fain!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Whoever he be, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_320" id="vol1Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And a bride he shall have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maid that's alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Isabel Mackay, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, seest not the dearie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fit for embracing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her patience distressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bestial a-chasing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis a marvellous fashion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That men should be slack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When their bosoms lack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An object of passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look such a lass on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her patience distressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bestial a-chasing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the field, alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CRUNLUATH (FINALE).</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, look upon the prize, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That where yon heights are rising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whole long twelvemonth sighs in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because she is alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, learn it from my minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who list the tale to carry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden shuns the public eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is ordain'd to tarry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid stoups and cans, and milking ware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where brown hills rear their ridges bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wails her plight the livelong year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spend the day alone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_321" id="vol1Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1EVANS_ELEGY" id="vol1EVANS_ELEGY"></a>EVAN'S ELEGY.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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 <i>Quarterly</i>, +and is now attempted in the measure of the original.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How often, Death! art waking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The imploring cry of Nature!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she sees her phalanx breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thou'dst have all—grim feature!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Autumn's leaves to brownness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deeper shade were tending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We saw thy step, from palaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Evan's nook descending.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, long, long thine agony!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A nameless length its tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since breathless thou hast panted here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not a friend beside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine errors what, I judge not;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What righteous deeds undone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if remains a se'ennight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Redeem it, dying one!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, marked we, Death! thy teachings true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dust of time would blind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such thy impartiality<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our highest, lowest kind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_322" id="vol1Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy look is upwards, downwards shot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Determined none to miss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It rose to Pelham's princely bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It sinks to shed like this!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, long, long, &c.!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great thy victims, that the noble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand humbled by the bier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So poor, it shames the poorest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace them with a tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the minister of state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And him that grovels there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should one remain uncounselled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there one whom dool shall spare?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, long, long, &c.!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hail that strews the battle-field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not louder sounds its call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the falling thousands round us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are voicing words to all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearken! least of all the nameless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evan's hour is going fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearken! greatest of earth's great ones—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Princely Pelham's hour is past.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, long, long, &c.!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends of my heart! in the twain we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A type of life's declining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis like the lantern's dripping light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At either end a-dwining.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where was there one more low than thou—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou least of meanest things?<a name="vol1FNanchor_101_101" id="vol1FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where than his was higher place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except the throne of kings?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, long, long, &c.!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_323" id="vol1Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1DOUGAL_BUCHANAN" id="vol1DOUGAL_BUCHANAN"></a>DOUGAL BUCHANAN.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_102_102" id="vol1FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> 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<a name="vol1FNanchor_103_103" id="vol1FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a>—a nourishment of the imagination +in which, as well as in purity of Gaelic, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_324" id="vol1Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +native Balquhidder was immeasurably inferior to the +Rannoch district of his adoption.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,"<a name="vol1FNanchor_104_104" id="vol1FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_325" id="vol1Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<a name="vol1FNanchor_105_105" id="vol1FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_326" id="vol1Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1A_CLAGIONN" id="vol1A_CLAGIONN"></a>A CLAGIONN.</h3> + +<h4>THE SKULL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! a featureless skull on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The symbol I clasp, and detain in my grasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I turn it around and around.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without beauty or grace, or a glance to express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bystander nigh, a thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its jaw and its mouth are tenantless both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor passes emotion its throat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No glow on its face, no ringlets to grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its brow, and no ear for my song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush'd the caves of its breath, and the finger of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The raised features hath flatten'd along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eyes' wonted beam, and the eyelids' quick gleam—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The intelligent sight, are no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the worms of the soil, as they wriggle and coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come hither their dwellings to bore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lineament here is left to declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If monarch or chief art thou;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alexander the Brave, as the portionless slave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on dunghill expires, is as low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou delver of death, in my ear let thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who tenants my hand, unfold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my voice may not die without a reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the ear it addresses is cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, wert thou a May,<a name="vol1FNanchor_106_106" id="vol1FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> of beauty a ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flatter'd thine eye with a smile?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy meshes didst set, like the links of a net,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hearts of the youth to wile?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_327" id="vol1Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Alas every charm that a bosom could warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is changed to the grain of disgust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, fie on the spoiler for daring to soil her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gracefulness all in the dust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, wise in the law, did the people with awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acknowledge thy rule o'er them—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A magistrate true, to all dealing their due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And just to redress or condemn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or was righteousness sold for handfuls of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the scales of thy partial decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the poor were unheard when their suit they preferr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And appeal'd their distresses to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, once in thine hour, was thy medicine of power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To extinguish the fever of ail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seem'd, as the pride of thy leech-craft e'en tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er omnipotent death to prevail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, that thine aid should have ever betray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hope when the need was thine own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What salve or annealing sufficed for thy healing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the hours of thy portion were flown?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or—wert thou a hero, a leader to glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While armies thy truncheon obey'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To victory cheering, as thy foemen careering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flight, left their mountains of dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was thy valiancy laid, or unhilted thy blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When came onwards in battle array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sepulchre-swarms, ensheathed in their arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sack and to rifle their prey?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they joy in their spoil, as thy body the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besieging, the reptile is vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her beetle-mate blind hums his gladness to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His defence in the lodge of thy brain!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_328" id="vol1Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Some dig where the sheen of the ivory has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, the organ where music repair'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rabble and rout they come in and come out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the gashes their fangs have bared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do I hold in my hand a whole lordship of land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Represented by nakedness, here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps not unkind to the helpless thy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all unimparted thy gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps stern of brow to thy tenantry thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leanness their countenances grew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst their crave for respite, when thy clamour for right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Required, to a moment, its due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the frown of thy pride to the aged denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cover their head from the chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And humbly they stand, with their bonnet in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As cold blows the blast of the hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy serfs may look on, unheeding thy frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rents and thy mailings unpaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All praise to the stroke their bondage that broke!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While but claims their obeisance the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or a head do I clutch, whose devices were such,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That death must have lent them his sting—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So daring they were, so reckless of fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As heaven had wanted a king?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did the tongue of the lie, while it couch'd like a spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the haunt of thy venomous jaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its slander display, as poisons its prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devilish snake in the grass?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_329" id="vol1Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That member unchain'd, by strong bands is restrain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inflexible shackles of death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, its emblem, the trail of the worm, shall prevail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where its slaver once harbour'd beneath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! if thy scorn went down to thine urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And expired, with impenitent groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To repose where thou art is of peace all thy part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then to appear—at the Throne!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a frog, from the lake that leapeth, to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Judge of thy actions the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to hear from His lips, amid nature's eclipse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sentence of termless dismay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hardness of iron thy bones shall environ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To brass-links the veins of thy frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall stiffen, and the glow of thy manhood shall grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the anvil that melts not in flame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wert thou the mould of a champion bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God and his truth and his law?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, then, though the fence of each limb and each sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is broken—each gem with a flaw—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be comforted thou! For rising in air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy flight shall the clarion obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shell of thy dust thou shalt leave to be crush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they will, by the creatures of prey.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_330" id="vol1Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1AM_BRUADAR" id="vol1AM_BRUADAR"></a>AM BRUADAR.</h3> + +<h4>THE DREAM.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As lockfasted in slumber's arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lay and dream'd (so dreams our race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every spectral object charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To melt, like shadow, in the chase),<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A vision came; mine ear confess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its solemn sounds. "Thou man distraught!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, owns the wind thy hand's arrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fills the world thy crave of thought?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since fell transgression ravaged here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reft Man's garden-joys away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He weeps his unavailing tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And straggles, like a lamb astray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With shrilling bleat for comfort hie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every pinfold, humankind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, there the fostering teat is dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stranger mother proves unkind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No rest for toil, no drink for drought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For bosom-peace the shadow's wing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So feeds expectancy on nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And suckles every lying thing.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_331" id="vol1Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Some woe for ever wreathes its chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope foretells the clasp undone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relief at handbreadth seems, in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fetter'd arms embrace—'tis gone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not all that trial's lore unlearns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the lies that life betrays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avails, for still desire returns—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last day's folly is to-day's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy wish has prosper'd—has its taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Survived the hour its lust was drown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or yields thine expectation's zest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To full fruition, golden-crown'd?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The rosebud is life's symbol bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis loved, 'tis coveted, 'tis riven—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its grace, its fragrance, find a tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to the grasping hand 'tis given.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, search the world, wherever woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of high or low the bosom wrings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, gasp for gasp, and throe for throe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is answer'd from the breast of kings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From every hearth-turf reeks its cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every heart its sigh is roll'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose's stalk is fang'd—one shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is both the sting's and honey's fold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is wealth thy lust—does envy pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where high its tempting heaps are piled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down, behold the fountain shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, deeper still, with dregs defiled!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_332" id="vol1Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Quickens thy breath with rash inhale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And falls an insect<a name="vol1FNanchor_107_107" id="vol1FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> in its toil?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The creature turns thy life-blood pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blends thine ivory teeth with soil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When high thy fellow-mortal soars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His state is like the topmost nest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It swings with every blast that roars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every motion shakes its crest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And if the world for once is kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ever has the lot its bend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fortune has the crook inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all thy strength or art shall mend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For as the sapling's sturdy stalk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose double twist is crossly strain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is thy fortune—sure to baulk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this extreme what there was gain'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When Heaven its gracious manna hail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas vain who hoarded its supply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all his miser care avail'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His neighbour's portion to outvie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So, blended all that nature owns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, warp'd all hopes that mortals bless—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With boundless wealth, the sufferer's groans;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With courtly luxury, distress.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lift up the balance—heap with gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its other shell vile dust shall fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And were a kingdom's ransom told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scales would want adjustment still.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_333" id="vol1Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Life has its competence—nor deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That better than enough were more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure it were phantasy to dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With burdens to assuage thy sore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is the fancy's whirling strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breeds thy pain—to-day it craves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow spurns—suffices life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When passion asks what passion braves?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Should appetite her wish achieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To herd with brutes her joy would bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleased other paradise to leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to pasture on the ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But pride rebels, nor towers alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond that confine's lowly sphere—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems as from the Eternal Throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It aim'd the sceptre's self to tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis thus we trifle, thus we dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, seek we to our bliss the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us to Heaven our path refer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe, and worship, and obey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That choice is all—to range beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor must, nor needs; provision, grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these He gives, who sits enthroned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salvation, competence, and peace."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The instructive vision pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not its wisdom's dreamless lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more in shadow-tracks I stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondle shadow-shapes no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_334" id="vol1Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1DUNCAN_MACINTYRE" id="vol1DUNCAN_MACINTYRE"></a>DUNCAN MACINTYRE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_335" id="vol1Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1MAIRI_BHAN_OG" id="vol1MAIRI_BHAN_OG"></a>MAIRI BHĀN ŌG.</h3> + +<h4>MARY, THE YOUNG, THE FAIR-HAIR'D.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My young, my fair, my fair-hair'd Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life-time love, my own!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vows I heard, when my kindest dearie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was bound to me alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By covenant true, and ritual holy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave happiness all but divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor needed there more to transport me wholly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the friends that hail'd thee mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a Monday morn, and the way that parted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was far, but I rivall'd the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The troth to plight with a maiden true-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That force can never unbind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I led her apart, and the hour that we reckon'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I gain'd a love and a bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard my heart, and could tell each second,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As its pulses struck on my side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I told my ail to the foe that pain'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said that no salve could save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She heard the tale, and her leech-craft it sain'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For herself to my breast she gave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forever, my dear, I 'll dearly adore thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For chasing away, away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fancy's delusion, new loves ever choosing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teaching no more to stray.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_336" id="vol1Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I roam'd in the wood, many a tendril surveying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All shapely from branch to stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eye, as it look'd, its ambition betraying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cull the fairest from them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One branch of perfume, in blossom all over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bent lowly down to my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yielded its bloom, that hung high from each lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, the least of the band.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I went to the river, one net-cast I threw in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the stream's transparence ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget shall I never, how the beauty<a name="vol1FNanchor_108_108" id="vol1FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> I drew in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone bright as the gloss of the swan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, happy the day that crown'd my affection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such a prize to my share!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love is a ray, a morning reflection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside me she sleeps, a star.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3><a name="vol1BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT" id="vol1BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT"></a>BENDOURAIN, THE OTTER MOUNT.</h3> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_337" id="vol1Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +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.</p></div> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The noble Otter hill!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a chieftain Beinn,<a name="vol1FNanchor_109_109" id="vol1FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever the fairest still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all these eyes have seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spacious is his side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love to range where hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In haunts by few espied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nurslings of his den.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bosky shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the velvet glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couch, in softness laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nimble-footed deer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the spotted pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in scenting never slack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coursing on their track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the prime of cheer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merry may the stag be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lad that so fairly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flourishes the russet coat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fits him so rarely.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a mantle whose wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time shall not tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a banner that ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees its colours depart:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_338" id="vol1Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And when they seek his doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let a man of action come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hunter in his bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rifle not untried:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A notch'd, firm fasten'd flint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strike a trusty dint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make the gun-lock glint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a flash of pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the barrel be but true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stock be trusty too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, Lightfoot,<a name="vol1FNanchor_110_110" id="vol1FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> though he flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be purple-dyed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He should not be novice bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a marksman of first head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whom that stag is sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hill-craft not unskill'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, when Padraig of the glen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call'd his hounds and men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill spake back again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As his orders shrill'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then was firing snell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bullets rain'd like hail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red-deer fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like warrior on the field.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the young doe so frisky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So coy, and so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gambols so briskly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snuffs up the air;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_339" id="vol1Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And hurries, retiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the rocks that environ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When foemen are firing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bullets are there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though swift in her racing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the kinsfolk before her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No heart-burst, unbracing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her strength, rushes o'er her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis exquisite hearing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her murmur, as, nearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mate comes careering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pride, and her lover;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He comes—and her breathing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rapture is telling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How his antlers are wreathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His white haunch, how swelling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High chief of Bendorain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seems, as adoring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hind, he comes roaring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To visit her dwelling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere endless my singing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the mountain is teeming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thousands, that bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each a high chief's<a name="vol1FNanchor_111_111" id="vol1FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> proud seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his hind, and her gala<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of younglings, that follow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er mountain and beala,<a name="vol1FNanchor_112_112" id="vol1FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lightsome are beaming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that lightfoot so airy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her race is pursuing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what vision saw e'er a<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feat of flight like her doing?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_340" id="vol1Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She springs, and the spreading grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce feels her treading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were fleet foot that sped in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twice the time that she flew in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gallant array!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the marshes they spurn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the frisk of their play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wheelings they turn,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the cloud of the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would distance behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give years to the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the pride of their scorn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the marrow of health<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the forest to lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, nooking in stealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They enjoy her<a name="vol1FNanchor_113_113" id="vol1FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> supply,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fosterage breeding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A race never needing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the milk of her feeding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a breast never dry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hill-grass they suckle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mammets<a name="vol1FNanchor_114_114" id="vol1FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> they swill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in wantonness chuckle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er tempest and chill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their ankles so light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their girdles<a name="vol1FNanchor_115_115" id="vol1FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> of white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their bodies so bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the drink of the rill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_341" id="vol1Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through the grassy glen sporting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In murmurless glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor snow-drift nor fortune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall urge them to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save to seek their repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the clefts of the knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the depths of the howes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their own Eas-an-ti.<a name="vol1FNanchor_116_116" id="vol1FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the forest den, the deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes, as best befits, his lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is plenty, and to spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her grassy feast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There she browses free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On herbage of the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or marsh grass, daintily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until her haunch is greased.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her drink is of the well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the water-cresses swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor with the flowing shell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the toper better pleased.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bent makes nobler cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the rashes of the mere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all the creagh that e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave surfeit to a guest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, see her table spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>sorach</i><a name="vol1FNanchor_117_117" id="vol1FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> sweet display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>ealvi</i>,<a name="vol1FNanchor_118_118" id="vol1FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> and the head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the daisy stem;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_342" id="vol1Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>dorach</i><a name="vol1FNanchor_119_119" id="vol1FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> crested, sleek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ringed with many a streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presents her pastures meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Profusely by the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such the luxuries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That plump their noble size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the herd entice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To revel in the howes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nobler haunches never sat on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride of grease, than when they batten<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the forest links, and fatten<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the herbs of their carouse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, 'tis pleasant, in the gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the supper-time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls all their hosts from roaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see their social prime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the shadows gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They lair on native heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shelter from the weather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Need, but the knolls behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dread or dark is none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their 's the mountain throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Height and slope their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle mountain kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasant is the grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their hue, and dappled dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And an ark in their distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Bendorain dear they find.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_343" id="vol1Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So brilliant thy hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tendril and flow'ret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grace of the view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What land can o'erpower it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou mountain of beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks it might suit thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The homage of beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To claim as a queen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What needs it? Adoring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy reign, we see pouring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wealth of their store in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already, I ween.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seasons—scarce roll'd once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gifts are twice told—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the months, they unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy bosom their dower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With profusion so rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er was clothing so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was jewelling e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the bud and the flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the groves on thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rejoices to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His magnificent crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain-cock, shrilling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In quick time, his note;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clans of the grot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With melody's note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their numbers are trilling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No foot can compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dance of the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the roebuck's young heir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here he is seen<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_344" id="vol1Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With his deftness of speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his sureness of tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his bend of the head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his freedom of spring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over corrie careers he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood-cover clears he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And merrily steers he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bound, and with fling,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he spurns from his stern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heather and fern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dives in the dern<a name="vol1FNanchor_120_120" id="vol1FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wilderness deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, anon, with a strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a twang of each vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He revels amain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the cliffs of the steep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the burst of a start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the flame of his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impels to depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How he distances all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two bounds at a leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brown hillocks to sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His appointment to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the doe, at her call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her following, the roe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the danger of ken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couches inly, and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the haunts of the glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever watchful to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever active to peer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever deft to career,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All ear, vision, and limb.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_345" id="vol1Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And though Cult<a name="vol1FNanchor_121_121" id="vol1FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> and Cuchullin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their horses and following,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should rush to her dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our prince<a name="vol1FNanchor_122_122" id="vol1FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> in his trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They might vainly aspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without rifle and fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruffle or nigh her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mantle to dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stark-footed, lively,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever capering naively<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With motion alive, aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wax-white, in shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her startle betrays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the hounds are in chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same as the base<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the rocky decline—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She puffs from her chest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she ambles her crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And disdain is express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her nostril and eye;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eye—how it winks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a sunbeam it blinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it glows, and it sinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is jealous and shy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountaineer lynx,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like her race that 's gone by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CRUNLUATH (FINALE).</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lodge is in the valley—here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No huntsman, void of notion,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_346" id="vol1Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Should hurry on the fallow deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But steal on her with caution;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wary step and watchfulness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stalk her to her resting place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insures the gallant wight's success,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before she is in motion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hunter bold should follow then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By bog, and rock, and hollow, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nestle in the gulley, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch with deep devotion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadows on the benty grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how they come, and how they pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor must he stir, with gesture rash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quicken her emotion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nerve and eye so wary, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That straight his piece may carry, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He marks with care the quarry, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The muzzle to repose on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, the knuckle is applied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flint is struck, the priming tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fired, the volley has replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reeks in high commotion;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was better powder ne'er to flint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor trustier wadding of the lint—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so we strike a telling dint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well done, my own Nic-Coisean!<a name="vol1FNanchor_123_123" id="vol1FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_347" id="vol1Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124" id="vol1THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124"></a>THE BARD TO HIS MUSKET.<a name="vol1FNanchor_124_124" id="vol1FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a></h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! mony a turn of woe and weal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May happen to a Highlan' man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he fall in love he soon may feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cannot get the fancied one;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_348" id="vol1Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The first I loved in time that 's past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I courted twenty years, ochone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she forsook me at the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Duncan then was left alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Edinbro' I forthwith hied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek a sweetheart to my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', if I could, to find a bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the fause love I left behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said Captain Campbell of the Guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I ken a widow secretly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I 'll try, as she 's no that ill faur'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To put her, Duncan, in your way."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As was his wont, I trow, did he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfil his welcome promise true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave the widow unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all her portion with her too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whosoe'er may ask her name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her surname also may desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They call her Janet<a name="vol1FNanchor_125_125" id="vol1FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a>—great her fame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' 'twas George who was her grandsire.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_349" id="vol1Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's quiet, an' affable, an' free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No vexing gloom or look at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As high in rank and in degree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As any lady in the land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's my support and my relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since e'er she join'd me, any how;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great is the cureless cause of grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him who has not got her now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nic-Coisean<a name="vol1FNanchor_126_126" id="vol1FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> I 've forsaken quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Altho' she liveth still at ease—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' allow the crested stags to fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wander wheresoe'er they please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A young wife I have chosen now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I repent not any where,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not wanting wealth, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since ever I espoused the fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pass my word of honour bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most excellent I do her call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her I ne'er, in any light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discover'd any fault at all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is stately, fine, an' straight, an' sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a hidden fault, my friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her, defect I never found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet a blemish, twist, or bend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When needy folk are pinch'd, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For money in a great degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, George's daughter—generous lass—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er lets my pockets empty be;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_350" id="vol1Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She keepeth me in drink, and stays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By me in ale-houses and all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' at once, without a word, she pays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For every stoup I choose to call!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' every turn I bid her do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She does it with a willing grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never tells me aught untrue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor story false, with lying face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She keeps my rising family<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As well as I could e'er desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although no labour I do try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dirty work for love or hire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I labour'd once laboriously,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although no riches I amass'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A menial I disdain'd to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' keep my vow unto the last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have ceased to labour in the lan',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since e'er I noticed to my wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the idle and contented man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endureth to the longest life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis my musket—loving wife, indeed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whom I faithfully believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's able still to earn my bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Duncan she will ne'er deceive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll have no lack of linens fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' plenty clothes to serve my turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' trust me that all worldly care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now gives me not the least concern.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_351" id="vol1Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1JOHN_MACODRUM" id="vol1JOHN_MACODRUM"></a>JOHN MACODRUM.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>hast thou anything to get of</i>) the Fingalian heroes?" +"If I have," quoth Macodrum, "I fear it is now irrecoverable."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_352" id="vol1Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1ORAN_NA_H-AOIS" id="vol1ORAN_NA_H-AOIS"></a>ORAN NA H-AOIS,</h3> + +<h4>THE SONG OF AGE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The notes would betray the languor of woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is o'erthrown, like the rush of the stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, unfix'd from its throne, seeks the valley below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>veteran of war</i>, that knows not to spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And offers us ne'er the respite of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless comes on, and we yield with a groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For under the sun is no hope of release.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a sadness I ween, how the glow and the sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the rosiest mien from their glory subside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hurries the hour on our race, that shall lower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The arm of our power, and the step of our pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As scatter and fail, on the wing of the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist of the vale, and the cloud of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, dissolving our bliss, comes the hour of distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old age, with that face of aversion to joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! heavy of head, and silent as lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unbreathed as the dead, is the person of Age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a joint, not a nerve—so prostrate their verve—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the contest shall serve, or the feat to engage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leap with the best, or the billow to breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the race prize to wrest, were but effort in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the message of death pours an Egypt of wrath,<a name="vol1FNanchor_127_127" id="vol1FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fever's hot breath, the dart-shot of pain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_353" id="vol1Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, desolate eld! the wretch that is held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy grapple, must yield thee his dearest supplies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friends of our love at thy call must remove,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What boots how they strove from thy bands to arise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They leave us, deplore as it wills us,—our store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our strength at the core, and our vigour of mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembrance forsakes us, distraction o'ertakes us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every love that awakes us, we leave it behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou spoiler of grace, that changest the face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hasten its race on the route to the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom nothing is dear, unaffection'd the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emotion is sere, and expression is dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirit how void, thy passions how cloy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy pith how destroy'd, and thy pleasure how gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the pang of thy cries not an echo replies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even sympathy dies—and thy helper is none.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see thee how stripp'd of each bloom that equipp'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy flourish, till nipp'd the winter thy rose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the spoiler made bare the scalp of the hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ivory<a name="vol1FNanchor_128_128" id="vol1FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> tare from its sockets' repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy skinny, thy cold, thy visageless mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its disgust is untold, and its surface is dim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a signal of wrack is the wrinkle's dull track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bend of the back, and the limp of the limb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou leper of fear—thou niggard of cheer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where glory is dear, shall thy welcome be found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou contempt of the brave—oh, rather the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than to pine as the slave that thy fetters have bound.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_354" id="vol1Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like the dusk of the day is thy colour of gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou foe of the lay, and thou phantom of gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bane of delight—when thy shivering plight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy grizzle of white,<a name="vol1FNanchor_129_129" id="vol1FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> and thy crippleness, come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beg at the door; ah, woe for the poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the greeting unsure that grudges their bread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unwelcome they call—from the hut to the hall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The confession of all is, "<i>'Tis time he were dead</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_355" id="vol1Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1NORMAN_MACLEOD" id="vol1NORMAN_MACLEOD"></a>NORMAN MACLEOD;<br /> +<span class="smcap" style="font-size: 75%;">Or, Tormaid Ban.</span></h2> + +<p>Single-speech Hamilton may be said to have had his +<i>marrow</i> 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<a name="vol1FNanchor_130_130" id="vol1FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> 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,<a name="vol1FNanchor_131_131" id="vol1FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_356" id="vol1Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +for a Whig. In Mackenzie's excellent collection (p. +361), a later date is assigned to the production.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_357" id="vol1Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol1CABERFAE" id="vol1CABERFAE"></a>CABERFAE,</h3> + +<h4>THE STAGHEAD.<a name="vol1FNanchor_132_132" id="vol1FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A health to Caberfae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A toast, and a cheery one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon return he may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though long and far his tarrying.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The death of shame befal me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be riven off my eididh<a name="vol1FNanchor_133_133" id="vol1FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my fancy hears thy call—we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should all be <i>up and ready, O</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis I have seen thy weapon keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine arm, inaction scorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assign their dues to the Munroes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their <i>welcome</i> in the morning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor stood the Cátach<a name="vol1FNanchor_134_134" id="vol1FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> to his bratach<a name="vol1FNanchor_135_135" id="vol1FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dread of a belabouring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When up gets the Staghead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raises his cabar on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe to the man of Folais,<a name="vol1FNanchor_136_136" id="vol1FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he to fight must challenge thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor better fared the Roses<a name="vol1FNanchor_137_137" id="vol1FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lent <i>Monro</i> their valiancy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Granndach<a name="vol1FNanchor_138_138" id="vol1FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> and the Frazer,<a name="vol1FNanchor_139_139" id="vol1FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">They tarried not the melee in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled Forbes,<a name="vol1FNanchor_140_140" id="vol1FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> in dismay, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Culloden-wards, undallying.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_358" id="vol1Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Away they ran, while firm remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one to three, retiring so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earl,<a name="vol1FNanchor_141_141" id="vol1FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> the craven, took to haven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce a pistol firing, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mackay<a name="vol1FNanchor_142_142" id="vol1FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> of Spoils, his heart recoils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cries in haste his cabul<a name="vol1FNanchor_143_143" id="vol1FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He flies—as soars the Staghead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raises his cabar on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like feather'd creatures flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the hill-mist shiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In haste for refuge hieing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the meadow or the river—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, port they sought, and took to boat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bewailing what had happened them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trust was rash, the missing flash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the rusty guns that weapon'd them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coracle of many a skull,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The relics of his neighbour, on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monro retreats<a name="vol1FNanchor_144_144" id="vol1FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_144_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a>—for Staghead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is raising his cabar on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I own my expectation,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis this has roused my apathy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That He who rules creation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May change the dismal hap of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hasten to restore thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In safety from thy danger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thine own, in joy and glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save us from the stranger.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_359" id="vol1Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With princely grace to give redress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor a taunt to suffer back again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fell Monro has felt thy blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should he dare attack again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then as he flew, he 'll run anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flames to quench he 'll labour on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of castle fired—when Staghead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High raises his cabar on!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've seen thee o'er the lowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gracious chieftain ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Cátach[145] self below thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Gallach<a name="vol1FNanchor_145_145" id="vol1FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_145_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> cower'd for cover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ever more their striving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When claim'd respect thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy scourge corrected, driving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To other lands to fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loyal crew of clansmen true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No panic fear shall turn them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With steel-cap, blade, and <i>skene</i> array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their banning foes they spurn them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clan-Shimei<a name="vol1FNanchor_146_146" id="vol1FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_146_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> then may dare them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll fly, had each a sabre on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needs but a look—when Staghead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once raises his cabar on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mounts not the wing a fouler thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thy vaunted crest, the eagle,<a name="vol1FNanchor_147_147" id="vol1FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_147_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inglorious chief! to boast the thief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That forays with the beagle, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_360" id="vol1Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird!<a name="vol1FNanchor_148_148" id="vol1FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_148_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">My song shall raise the mountain-deer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prey he scorns, the carcase spurns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loves the cress, the fountain cheer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lodge is in the forest;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While carion-flesh enticing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy greedy maw, thou buriest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou kite of prey! thy claws in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The putrid corse of famish'd horse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greedy hound a-striving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rival thee in gluttony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both at the bowels riving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou called the <i>true bird</i>!<a name="vol1FNanchor_149_149" id="vol1FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a>—Never,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou foster child of evil,<a name="vol1FNanchor_150_150" id="vol1FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> ha!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How ill match with thy feather<a name="vol1FNanchor_151_151" id="vol1FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The talons<a name="vol1FNanchor_152_152" id="vol1FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_152_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> of thy devilry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when thy foray preys on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our harmless flocks, so dastardly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often has the shepherd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With trusty baton master'd thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well in thy fright hast timed thy flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else, not alone, belabouring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'd gored thee with the Staghead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up-raising his cabar on.<a name="vol1FNanchor_153_153" id="vol1FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_361" id="vol1Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe worth the world, deceiver—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So false, so fair of seeming!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've seen the noble Siphort<a name="vol1FNanchor_154_154" id="vol1FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his war-notes<a name="vol1FNanchor_155_155" id="vol1FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_155_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> screaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When not a chief in Albain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mac-Ailein's<a name="vol1FNanchor_156_156" id="vol1FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_156_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> self though backing him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could face his frown—as Staghead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arose with his cabar on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To join thy might, when call'd the right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gallant army springing on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would rise, from Assint to the crags<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Scalpa, rescue bringing on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each man upon, true-flinted gun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steel glaive, and trusty dagaichean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the Island Lord of Sleitè,<a name="vol1FNanchor_157_157" id="vol1FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_157_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When up rose thy cabar on!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Came too the men of Muideart,<a name="vol1FNanchor_158_158" id="vol1FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_158_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While stream'd their flag its bravery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gleaming weapons, blue-dyed,<a name="vol1FNanchor_159_159" id="vol1FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_159_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">That havock'd on the cavalry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Macalister,<a name="vol1FNanchor_160_160" id="vol1FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_160_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a> Mackinnon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a flashing trigger there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foemen rushing in on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless shew'd their vigour there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May fortune free thee—may we see thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again in Bràun,<a name="vol1FNanchor_161_161" id="vol1FNanchor_161_161"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_161_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a> the turreted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Girt with thy clan! And not a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But will get the scorn he merited.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_362" id="vol1Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then wine will play, and usquebae<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From flaggons, and from badalan,<a name="vol1FNanchor_162_162" id="vol1FNanchor_162_162"></a><a href="#vol1Footnote_162_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pipers scream—when Staghead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High raises his cabar on.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_363" id="vol1Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>END OF VOL. I.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol1GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + +<p><i>A-low</i>, on fire.</p> + +<p><i>Ava</i>, at all.</p> + +<p><i>Ayont</i>, beyond.</p> + +<p><i>Ban</i>, swear.</p> + +<p><i>Bang</i>, to change place hastily.</p> + +<p><i>Bangster</i>, a violent person.</p> + +<p><i>Bawks</i>, the cross-beams of a roof.</p> + +<p><i>Bein</i>, good, suitable.</p> + +<p><i>Bicker</i>, a dish for holding liquor.</p> + +<p><i>Boddle</i>, an old Scottish coin—value the third of a penny.</p> + +<p><i>Boggie</i>, a marsh.</p> + +<p><i>Brag</i>, vaunt.</p> + +<p><i>Braw</i>, gaily dressed.</p> + +<p><i>Busk</i>, to attire oneself.</p> + +<p><i>Buss</i>, bush.</p> + +<p><i>Cantie</i>, cheerful.</p> + +<p><i>Castocks</i>, the pith of stalks of cabbages.</p> + +<p><i>Caw</i>, to drive.</p> + +<p><i>Chat</i>, talk.</p> + +<p><i>Chuckies</i>, chickens.</p> + +<p><i>Chuffy</i>, clownish.</p> + +<p><i>Clavering</i>, talking idly.</p> + +<p><i>Cleeding</i>, clothing.</p> + +<p><i>Clishmaclavers</i>, idle talk.</p> + +<p><i>Clocksie</i>, vivacious.</p> + +<p><i>Cock-up</i>, a hat or cap turned up before.</p> + +<p><i>Coft</i>, purchased.</p> + +<p><i>Cogie</i>, a hollow wooden vessel.</p> + +<p><i>Coozy</i>, warm.</p> + +<p><i>Cosie</i>, snug, comfortable.</p> + +<p><i>Cowt</i>, cattle.</p> + +<p><i>Creel</i>, a basket.</p> + +<p><i>Croft</i>, a tenement of land.</p> + +<p><i>Croon</i>, to make a plaintive sound.</p> + +<p><i>Crouse</i>, brisk.</p> + +<p><i>Crusie</i>, a small lamp.</p> + +<p><i>Cuddle</i>, embrace.</p> + +<p><i>Curpin</i>, the crupper of a saddle.</p> + +<p><i>Cuttie</i>, a short pipe.</p> + +<p><i>Daff</i>, sport.</p> + +<p><i>Daut</i>, caress.</p> + +<p><i>Daud</i>, blow.</p> + +<p><i>Daunder</i>, to walk thoughtlessly.</p> + +<p><i>Dautit</i>, fondled.</p> + +<p><i>Dirdum</i>, tumult.</p> + +<p><i>Disjasket</i>, having appearance of decay.</p> + +<p><i>Doited</i>, stupid.</p> + +<p><i>Dool</i>, grief.</p> + +<p><i>Dorty</i>, a foolish urchin.</p> + +<p><i>Douf</i>, dull.</p> + +<p><i>Dowie</i>, sad.</p> + +<p><i>Draigle</i>, draggle.</p> + +<p><i>Dringing</i>, delaying.</p> + +<p><i>Drone</i>, sound of bagpipes.</p> + +<p><i>Dung</i>, defeated.</p> + +<p><i>Eerie</i>, timorous.</p> + +<p><i>Eident</i>, wary.</p> + +<p><i>Elf</i>, a puny creature.</p> + +<p><i>Fashious</i>, troublesome.</p> + +<p><i>Fauld</i>, a fold.</p> + +<p><i>Ferlies</i>, remarkable things.</p> + +<p><i>Fleyt</i>, frightened.</p> + +<p><i>Fogie</i>, a stupid old person.</p> + +<p><i>Foumart</i>, a pole-cat.</p> + +<p><i>Fraise</i>, flattery.</p> + +<p><i>Frumpish</i>, crumpled.</p> + +<p><i>Gabbit</i>, a person prone to idle talk.</p> + +<p><i>Gart</i>, compelled.</p> + +<p><i>Giggle</i>, unmeaning laughter.</p> + +<p><i>Gin</i>, if.</p> + +<p><i>Girse</i>, grass.</p> + +<p><i>Glaikit</i>, stupid.</p> + +<p><i>Glamrie</i>, the power of enchantment.</p> + +<p><i>Glower</i>, stare.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol1Page_364" id="vol1Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Grusome</i>, frightful.</p> + +<p><i>Grist</i>, the fee paid at the mill for grinding.</p> + +<p><i>Gutchir</i>, grandfather.</p> + +<p><i>Gutters</i>, mud, wet dust.</p> + +<p><i>Hain</i>, save, preserve.</p> + +<p><i>Hap</i>, cover.</p> + +<p><i>Havens</i>, endowments.</p> + +<p><i>Henny</i>, honey, a familiar term of affection among the peasantry.</p> + +<p><i>Hinkum</i>, that which is put up in hanks or balls, as thread.</p> + +<p><i>Howe</i>, a hollow.</p> + +<p><i>Hyne</i>, hence.</p> + +<p><i>Kail</i>, cabbages, colewort.</p> + +<p><i>Kebbuck</i>, a cheese.</p> + +<p><i>Keil</i>, red clay, used for marking.</p> + +<p><i>Ken</i>, know.</p> + +<p><i>Kenspeckle</i>, having a singular appearance.</p> + +<p><i>Leal</i>, honest, faithful.</p> + +<p><i>Leese me</i>, pleased am I with.</p> + +<p><i>Lyart</i>, gray-haired.</p> + +<p><i>Loof</i>, the palm of the hand.</p> + +<p><i>Lowin</i>, warm.</p> + +<p><i>Lucky, A</i>, an old woman.</p> + +<p><i>Luntin</i>, smoking.</p> + +<p><i>Mailin</i>, a farm.</p> + +<p><i>Maukin</i>, a hare.</p> + +<p><i>Mirk</i>, dark.</p> + +<p><i>Mishanter</i>, a sorry scrape.</p> + +<p><i>Mittens</i>, gloves without fingers.</p> + +<p><i>Mouldie</i>, crumbling.</p> + +<p><i>Mouls</i>, the earth of the grave.</p> + +<p><i>Mows</i>, easy.</p> + +<p><i>Mutch</i>, a woman's cap.</p> + +<p><i>Neip</i>, a turnip.</p> + +<p><i>Neive</i>, the closed fist.</p> + +<p><i>Nippen</i>, carried off surreptitiously.</p> + +<p><i>Ouk</i>, week.</p> + +<p><i>Owerlay</i>, a cravat.</p> + +<p><i>Perk</i>, push.</p> + +<p><i>Perlins</i>, women's ornaments.</p> + +<p><i>Poortith</i>, poverty.</p> + +<p><i>Preed</i>, tasted.</p> + +<p><i>Randy</i>, a scold, a shrew.</p> + +<p><i>Rate</i>, slander.</p> + +<p><i>Rink</i>, run about.</p> + +<p><i>Routh</i>, abundance.</p> + +<p><i>Rummulgumshin</i>, common sense.</p> + +<p><i>Sabbit</i>, sobbed.</p> + +<p><i>Scant</i>, scarce.</p> + +<p><i>Scartle</i>, a graip or fork.</p> + +<p><i>Scrimply</i>, barely.</p> + +<p><i>Scug</i>, shelter.</p> + +<p><i>Seer</i>, sure.</p> + +<p><i>Shaw</i>, a plantation.</p> + +<p><i>Shiel</i>, a sheep shed.</p> + +<p><i>Skeigh</i>, timorous.</p> + +<p><i>Skiffin</i>, moving lightly.</p> + +<p><i>Smeddum</i>, sagacity.</p> + +<p><i>Snooded</i>, the hair bound up.</p> + +<p><i>Spaewife,</i> a female fortune-teller.</p> + +<p><i>Spence</i>, a larder.</p> + +<p><i>Steenies</i>, guineas.</p> + +<p><i>Sud</i>, should.</p> + +<p><i>Sumph</i>, a soft person.</p> + +<p><i>Swankie</i>, a clever young fellow.</p> + +<p><i>Sweir</i>, indolent.</p> + +<p><i>Syne</i>, then.</p> + +<p><i>Tabbit</i>, benumbed.</p> + +<p><i>Tapsle-teerie</i>, topsyturvy.</p> + +<p><i>Ted</i>, toad.</p> + +<p><i>Thairms</i>, strings.</p> + +<p><i>Thowless</i>, thoughtless.</p> + +<p><i>Thraw</i>, twist.</p> + +<p><i>Tint</i>, lost.</p> + +<p><i>Tirl</i>, to uncover.</p> + +<p><i>Tocher</i>, dowry.</p> + +<p><i>Toss</i>, toast.</p> + +<p><i>Towmond</i>, a year.</p> + +<p><i>Trig</i>, neat, trim.</p> + +<p><i>Tryst</i>, appointment.</p> + +<p><i>Tyced</i>, made diversion.</p> + +<p><i>Vauntit</i>, boasted.</p> + +<p><i>Weel</i>, will.</p> + +<p><i>Whigmigmorum</i>, political ranting.</p> + +<p><i>Wile</i>, choice.</p> + +<p><i>Wist</i>, wished.</p> + +<p><i>Wizen</i>, the throat.</p> + +<p><i>Wow</i>, vow.</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_1_1" id="vol1Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This song was composed when Wilkes, Horne, and others, were exciting +a commotion about liberty.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_2_2" id="vol1Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_3_3" id="vol1Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Forbes's "Life of Beattie," vol. i. p. 375.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_4_4" id="vol1Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_5_5" id="vol1Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> These lines were addressed by Mrs Hunter to her daughter, on the +occasion of her marriage.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_6_6" id="vol1Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_7_7" id="vol1Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_8_8" id="vol1Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_9_9" id="vol1Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_10_10" id="vol1Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> 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 <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, vol. iv. p. 273. See +likewise the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, vol. xv. p. 307.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_11_11" id="vol1Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> "The Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern," by Allan Cunningham, +vol. i. p. 242. London, 1825; 4 vols. 12mo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_12_12" id="vol1Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> This song was first published, in May 1791, in <i>The Bee</i>, an Edinburgh +periodical, conducted by Dr James Anderson.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_13_13" id="vol1Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> This beautiful ballad was first printed, in 1791, in <i>The Bee</i>. It is +adapted to an old and sweet air, to which, however, very puerile words were +attached.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_14_14" id="vol1Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Mr Graham, of Gartmore, an intimate friend of Hector Macneill, composed +a song, having a similar burden, the chorus proceeding thus:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then, tell me how to woo thee, love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me how to woo thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy dear sake nae care I'll take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ne'er another trow me."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +This was published by Sir Walter Scott, in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish +Border," as a production of the reign of Charles I.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_15_15" id="vol1Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_16_16" id="vol1Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_17_17" id="vol1Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Mora is the name of a small valley in Athole, so designated by the +two lovers.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_18_18" id="vol1Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_19_19" id="vol1Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_20_20" id="vol1Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> From Albyn's "Anthology," vol. i. p. 42. Edinburgh, 1816, 4to.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_21_21" id="vol1Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> See Note to "Lady of the Lake."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_22_22" id="vol1Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> See the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, vol. xxi. p. 170.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_23_23" id="vol1Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_24_24" id="vol1Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> 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 <i>Annual Register</i> of 1815.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_25_25" id="vol1Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_26_26" id="vol1Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> These stanzas are founded on some lines of old doggerel, beginning— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, go, go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to Berwick, Johnnie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt have the horse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall have the pony."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_27_27" id="vol1Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> 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 <i><a href="#vol1UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38">postea</a></i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_28_28" id="vol1Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> <i>Literary Gazette</i>, March 1851.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_29_29" id="vol1Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_30_30" id="vol1Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_31_31" id="vol1Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_32_32" id="vol1Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> "The Wee Pickle Tow" is an old air, to which the words of this song +were written.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_33_33" id="vol1Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> This song was contributed by Miss Baillie to "The Harp of Caledonia."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_34_34" id="vol1Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_35_35" id="vol1Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_36_36" id="vol1Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_37_37" id="vol1Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> See <i><a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">postea</a></i>, in this volume, under article "<a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Lady Nairn</a>."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_38_38" id="vol1Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> 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 <i><a href="#vol1OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27">ante</a></i>, <a href="#vol1Page_124">p. 124.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_39_39" id="vol1Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> The four first lines of the last stanza are by Burns.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_40_40" id="vol1Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> 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, <i>new edition</i>. Edinburgh, 1853.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_41_41" id="vol1Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> The "Songs of Scotland," by Allan Cunningham, vol. i. p. 247.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_42_42" id="vol1Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_43_43" id="vol1Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_44_44" id="vol1Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_45_45" id="vol1Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_46_46" id="vol1Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> 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 <i>one</i>, or rather <i>two</i>, letters +out of taste, viz., choosing "B. B." for her signature.'"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_47_47" id="vol1Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> This seems to have been the author's first composition in Scottish +verse. See the <a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Memoir</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_48_48" id="vol1Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_49_49" id="vol1Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_50_50" id="vol1Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_51_51" id="vol1Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> 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 <i><a href="#vol1WILLIAM_REID">ante</a></i>, article "<a href="#vol1WILLIAM_REID">William Reid</a>.")</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_52_52" id="vol1Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_53_53" id="vol1Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> 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?"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_54_54" id="vol1Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> This excellent ballad is the fourth version adapted to the air, "Cauld +Kail in Aberdeen." Some notice of the three former will be found <i><a href="#vol1ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON">ante</a></i>, +<a href="#vol1Page_46">p. 46</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_55_55" id="vol1Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> 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 <i><a href="#vol1KATE_O_GOWRIE37">ante</a></i>, <a href="#vol1Page_157">p. 157</a>. 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:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I praised her beauty loud an' lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then round her waist my arms I flang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, "My dearie, will ye gang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the Carse o' Gowrie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I'll tak ye to my father's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In yon green field beside the shaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll mak you lady o' them a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brawest wife in Gowrie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft kisses on her lips I laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blush upon her cheek soon spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She whisper'd modestly, and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'll gang wi' you to Gowrie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The auld folks soon ga'e their consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne for Mess John they quickly sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha tied them to their heart's content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now she's Lady Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +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. +</p><p class='center'> +THE BONNIE LASS O' GOWRIE. +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wee bit north frae yon green wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar draps the sunny showerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty elm-trees spread their boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shade the braes o' Gowrie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' by yon burn ye scarce can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There stan's a rustic bowerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar lives a lass mair dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a' the maids in Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae gentle bard e'er sang her praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause fortune ne'er left dowrie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose blaws sweetest in the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So does the flower o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When April strews her garlands roun',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bare foot treads the flowerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sang gars a' the woodlands ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shade the braes o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her modest blush an' downcast e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flame sent beating through me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she surpasses all I've seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This peerless flower o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've lain upon the dewy green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the evening hourie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' thought gin e'er I durst ca' mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie lass o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bushes that o'erhang the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae verdant and sae flowerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can witness that I love alane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie lass o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let ithers dream an' sigh for wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fashions fleet and flowery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gi'e me that heav'nly innocence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the braes o' Gowrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_56_56" id="vol1Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_57_57" id="vol1Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> A familiar Scottish phrase for good sense.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_58_58" id="vol1Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> 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 <i>Sorrow</i> and +<i>Care</i>, 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_59_59" id="vol1Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> "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."—<i>Authentic Account of Occupation of Carlisle, by George G. Monsey.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_60_60" id="vol1Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_61_61" id="vol1Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> The romantic scenery depicted in this song is in the immediate vicinity +of the Queen's Drive, Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_62_62" id="vol1Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> The wells of Weary are situated near the Windyknowe, beneath +Salisbury Crags.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_63_63" id="vol1Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> This song is printed from an improved version of the original, by a +literary friend of the author.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_64_64" id="vol1Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> 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 <a href="#vol1CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Memoir</a>.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_65_65" id="vol1Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Here first printed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_66_66" id="vol1Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> These verses are here first printed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_67_67" id="vol1Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_68_68" id="vol1Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_69_69" id="vol1Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_70_70" id="vol1Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> The Ouse.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_71_71" id="vol1Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_72_72" id="vol1Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_73_73" id="vol1Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_74_74" id="vol1Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_75_75" id="vol1Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_76_76" id="vol1Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> From the third canto of "Marmion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_77_77" id="vol1Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> The song of Lady Margaret in the first canto of "The Lady of the Lake."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_78_78" id="vol1Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_79_79" id="vol1Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> Song of Norman in "The Lady of the Lake," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_80_80" id="vol1Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> "The Lady of the Lake," canto sixth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_81_81" id="vol1Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> "The Lady of the Lake," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_82_82" id="vol1Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_83_83" id="vol1Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_84_84" id="vol1Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto fifth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_85_85" id="vol1Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto fifth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_86_86" id="vol1Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> First published in the continuation of Strutt's Queenhoohall, 1808, +inserted in the <i>Edinburgh Annual Register</i>, of the same year, and set +to a Welsh air in Thomson's <i>Select Melodies</i>, vol. iii., 1817.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_87_87" id="vol1Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Songs and Poems of Robert Mackay, p. 38. (Inverness, 1829. 8vo.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_88_88" id="vol1Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> The Rev. Dr Mackintosh Mackay, successively minister of Laggan and +Dunoon, now a clergyman in Australia.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_89_89" id="vol1Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> <i>Quarterly Review</i>, vol. xlv., April 1831.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_90_90" id="vol1Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> "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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_91_91" id="vol1Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> Birds.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_92_92" id="vol1Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> The sides of the cottages—plastered with mud or mortar, instead of lime.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_93_93" id="vol1Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Salmon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_94_94" id="vol1Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> "Poems," p. 318.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_95_95" id="vol1Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> "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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_96_96" id="vol1Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> "Isabel"—the daughter of Ian Macechan, the subject of other verses.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_97_97" id="vol1Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> "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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_98_98" id="vol1Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> Alluding to his absence, and delay in his courtship.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_99_99" id="vol1Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Rather more modest than the classic's "feriam sidera vertice."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_100_100" id="vol1Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> A common Highland adjuration.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_101_101" id="vol1Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_102_102" id="vol1Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> "Statistical Account of Fortingall."—Stat. Acc., x., p. 549.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_103_103" id="vol1Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> The same account observes that though none of his works are published +but his sacred compositions, he composed "several songs on various subjects."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_104_104" id="vol1Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Published at Glasgow, 1836.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_105_105" id="vol1Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> These are his descriptions of "The Drunkard," "The Glutton," and +"The Good and Wicked Pastor."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_106_106" id="vol1Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Maiden or virgin—<i>orig.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_107_107" id="vol1Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> <i>Orig.</i>—The venomous red spider.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_108_108" id="vol1Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Gaelic, "gealag"—descriptive of the salmon, from its glossy brightness.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_109_109" id="vol1Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Anglicised into <i>Ben</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_110_110" id="vol1Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> The deer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_111_111" id="vol1Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Stag of the first head.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_112_112" id="vol1Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Pass.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_113_113" id="vol1Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> 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 <i>he</i> or <i>she</i>. The forest is here happily personified as a nurse or +mother.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_114_114" id="vol1Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Bog-holes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_115_115" id="vol1Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Stripings.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_116_116" id="vol1Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Easan-an-tsith.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_117_117" id="vol1Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> Primrose.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_118_118" id="vol1Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> St John's wort.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_119_119" id="vol1Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> A kind of cress, or marshmallow.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_120_120" id="vol1Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> <i>Anglice</i>—dark.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_121_121" id="vol1Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Caoillt; who, with Cuchullin, makes a figure in traditional +Gaelic poetry.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_122_122" id="vol1Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—King George.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_123_123" id="vol1Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_124_124" id="vol1Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_125_125" id="vol1Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> A byeword for a regimental firelock.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_126_126" id="vol1Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> A favourite fowling-piece, alluded to in Bendourain, and elsewhere.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_127_127" id="vol1Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> Alluding to the plagues.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_128_128" id="vol1Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> The teeth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_129_129" id="vol1Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Matted, rough, gray beard.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_130_130" id="vol1Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> In Stat. Ac. said to be of Lochbroom, vol. xiv., p. 79.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_131_131" id="vol1Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Hugh Macleod.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_132_132" id="vol1Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Applicable both to the chief and his crest.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_133_133" id="vol1Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> Literally, "<i>the dress</i>," (pron. <i>ēidi</i>,) <i>i.e.</i>, Highland garb, not yet abolished.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_134_134" id="vol1Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> Sutherlanders, or Caithness men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_135_135" id="vol1Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> Banner.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_136_136" id="vol1Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> Monro of Fowlis.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_137_137" id="vol1Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> Rose of Kilravock and his clan.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_138_138" id="vol1Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> Grant of Grant.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_139_139" id="vol1Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> Lovat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_140_140" id="vol1Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> Of Culloden.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_141_141" id="vol1Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> Of Sutherland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_142_142" id="vol1Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> Lord Reay.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_143_143" id="vol1Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> Steed. The Celtic "Cabul" and Latin "Caballus" correspond.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_144_144" id="vol1Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_144_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_145_145" id="vol1Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> The Caithness and Sutherland men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_146_146" id="vol1Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> Lovat's men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_147_147" id="vol1Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> The eagle being the crest of the Monro.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_148_148" id="vol1Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_148_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> The <i>eagle</i>; 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_149_149" id="vol1Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_149_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> <i>Fioreun</i>, the name of the eagle, signifying true bird.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_150_150" id="vol1Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Literally—Accursed by Moses, or the Mosaic law.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_151_151" id="vol1Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_151_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> The single eagle's feather crested the chieftain's bonnet.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_152_152" id="vol1Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_152_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> Literally—If thy feather is noble, thy claws are (of) the devil!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_153_153" id="vol1Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_153_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> 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 <i>creagh</i>, in +which the Monroes are reproached with their spoilages of cheese, butter, and +winter-mart beef.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_154_154" id="vol1Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> Seaforth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_155_155" id="vol1Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> Literally—Bagpipes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_156_156" id="vol1Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> Macallammore: Argyle.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_157_157" id="vol1Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> Macdonald of Sleat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_158_158" id="vol1Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> Clanranald's country.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_159_159" id="vol1Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> Literally—Of blue steel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_160_160" id="vol1Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Mac-Mhic-Alister, the patronymic of Glengary.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_161_161" id="vol1Footnote_161_161"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_161_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> Castle Brahan, Seaforth's seat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol1Footnote_162_162" id="vol1Footnote_162_162"></a><a href="#vol1FNanchor_162_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Barrels of liquor, properly <i>bùidealan</i>.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_i" id="vol2Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_ii_title.jpg" width="600" height="1019" alt="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." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_ii_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="760" alt="JAMES HOGG." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.<br /> + +Lithographed from an original Portrait in the possession of his widow +by Schenck & M<sup style="font-size: 75%;">c</sup>Farlane, Edinburgh.<br /></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. II.</p> + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_ii" id="vol2Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_iii" id="vol2Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 50%;">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +JOHN BROWN, <span class="smcap">Esq., of Marlie</span>.</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p>I dedicate to you this second volume of "<span class="smcap">The Modern Scottish Minstrel</span>," +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.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I have the honour to be,<br /></span> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 4em;">My Dear Sir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">your most obliged,<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">and very faithful servant,<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">CHARLES ROGERS.<br /></span> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Argyle House, Stirling</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>December 1855.</i><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_v" id="vol2Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_iv" id="vol2Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2INTRODUCTION" id="vol2INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.<a name="vol2FNanchor_1_1" id="vol2FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<p>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<a name="vol2FNanchor_2_2" id="vol2FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> that at the period of the Reformation, the natives were +engrossed with the lays and legends of Bards and Seanachies,<a name="vol2FNanchor_3_3" id="vol2FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_vi" id="vol2Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> the alteration +of a single passage. Many of the reciters of this elder poetry were +writers of verses,<a name="vol2FNanchor_4_4" id="vol2FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>Of an uncertain era, but of a date posterior to the age of Ossian, there +is a class of compositions called <i>Ur-sgeula</i>,<a name="vol2FNanchor_5_5" id="vol2FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> or <i>new-tales</i>, 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 <i>Ur-sgeula</i>. The translator was Ierome +Stone,<a name="vol2FNanchor_6_6" id="vol2FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> schoolmaster of Dunkeld, and the performance appeared in the +<i>Scots Magazine</i> for 1700. The author had learned from the monks the +story of Bellerophon,<a name="vol2FNanchor_7_7" id="vol2FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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,"<a name="vol2FNanchor_8_8" id="vol2FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> a +composition of singular elegance and pathos, and remarkable for certain +allusions to the age and imagery of Ossian. This has frequently been +translated. Some<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_vii" id="vol2Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>what in the Ossianic style, but of the period of the +<i>Ur-sgeula</i> are two popular pieces entitled <i>Mordubh</i><a name="vol2FNanchor_9_9" id="vol2FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> and <i>Collath</i>. +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<a name="vol2FNanchor_10_10" id="vol2FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> as +of modern origin. Of a portion of this celebrated composition we subjoin +a metrical translation from the pen of Mr William Sinclair.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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:—</p></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Hunter.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O wailing owl of Strona's vale!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We wonder not thy night's repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is mournful, when with Donegal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In distant years thou first arose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lonely bird! we wonder not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For time the strongest heart can bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou should'st heave a mournful note,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or that thy sp'rit is heavy now!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Owl.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou truly sayest I lone abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I lived with yonder ancient oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose spreading roots strike deep and wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst the moss beside the rock;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_viii" id="vol2Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And long, long years have gone at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thousand moons have o'er me stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a race before me past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still I am Strona's lonely owl!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Hunter.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, since old age has come o'er thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confess, as to a priest, thy ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fearless tell thou unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glorious tales of bygone days.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Owl.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rapine and falsehood ne'er I knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor grave nor temples e'er have torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My youthful mate still found me true—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Guiltless am I although forlorn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've seen brave Britto's son, the wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The powerful champion, Fergus, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray-haired Foradden, Strona's child—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These were the heroes great and true!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Hunter.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast well began, but tell to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And say what further hast thou known!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er Donegal abode with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the Fersaid these all were gone!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Owl.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great Alexander of the spears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mightiest chief of Albyn's race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft have I heard his voice in cheers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the green hill-side speed the chase;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw him after Angus brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor less a noble warrior he—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fersaid his home, his work he gave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto the Mill of Altavaich.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Hunter.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From wild Lochaber, then, the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With war's dread inroads swept apace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, gloomy-brow'd and ancient bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was then thy secret hiding-place?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_ix" id="vol2Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></div></div> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Owl.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the fierce sounds of terror burst,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And plunder'd herds were passing on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd me from the sight accurst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto the craig Gunaoch lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of my kindred by the lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Inch and Fersaid sought repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some by Loch Laggan's lonely sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where their lamenting cries arose!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh rock of my heart! for ever secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rock where my childhood was cherish'd in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haunt of the wild birds, the stream flowing pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the hinds and the stags that in liberty rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rock all encircled by sounds from the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, how I delighted to linger by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When arose the wild cry of the hounds as they drove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The herds of wild deer from their fastnesses free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud scream'd the eagles around thee, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the cuckoos and the swans in their pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More cheering the kid-spotted fawns that were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their bleating, that sweetly arose by thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love thee, O wild rock of refuge! of showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the leaves and the cresses, all glorious to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the high grassy heights and the beautiful bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afar from the smooth shelly brink of the sea!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_x" id="vol2Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> and pensioner,<a name="vol2FNanchor_11_11" id="vol2FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> abroad a follower of the camp. We +find him cheering the rowers of the galley, with his <i>birlinn</i> chant, +and stirring on the fight with his <i>prosnuchadh catha</i>, or battle-song. +At the noted battle of Harlaw,<a name="vol2FNanchor_12_12" id="vol2FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> 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<a name="vol2FNanchor_13_13" id="vol2FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> 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 <i>Macgregor na +Ruara</i>,<a name="vol2FNanchor_14_14" id="vol2FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> and the mournful melodies of Janet Campbell.<a name="vol2FNanchor_15_15" id="vol2FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xi" id="vol2Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> 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<a name="vol2FNanchor_16_16" id="vol2FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_17_17" id="vol2FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> 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."</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_18_18" id="vol2FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xii" id="vol2Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> +battle,<a name="vol2FNanchor_19_19" id="vol2FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> 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, <i>The M'Leod</i>, was the grand theme of her +inspiration. Dora Brown<a name="vol2FNanchor_20_20" id="vol2FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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>i.e.</i>, Brown Robert; and certain +specimens of his talents, published in the ninetieth number of the +<i>Quarterly Review</i>. The picture which that paper gives<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xiii" id="vol2Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The various kinds of Highland minstrelsy admit of simple classification. +The <i>Duan Mor</i> is the epic song; its subdivisions are termed <i>duana</i> or +<i>duanaga</i>. Strings of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xiv" id="vol2Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> verse and incidents (<span title="[Greek: Rhapsôdia]">Ῥαψωδια</span>) were +intended to form an epic history, and were combined by successive bards +for that purpose. The battle-song (<i>Prosnuchadh-catha</i>) 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 <i>Jorram</i>, +or boat-song, some specimens of which attracted the attention of Dr +Johnson,<a name="vol2FNanchor_21_21" id="vol2FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">"Stat margine puppis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui voce alternos nautarum temperet ictus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et remis dictet sonitum pariterque relatis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ad numerum plaudet resonantia cærula tonsis."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alexander Macdonald excels in this description of verse. In a piece +called Clanranald's <i>Birlinn</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xv" id="vol2Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> reader by Sir Walter Scott, in the "Roderigh +Vich Alpine Dhu, ho! ieroe," of the "Lady of the Lake." The <i>Luineag</i>, +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<a name="vol2FNanchor_22_22" id="vol2FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> and other song-writers have adopted the strain of +the <i>Luineag</i> to adorn their verses. The <i>Cumha</i>, or lament, is the +vehicle of the most pathetic and meritorious effusions of Gaelic poetry; +it is abundantly interspersed with the poetry of Ossian.</p> + +<p>Among the Gael, blank verse is unknown, and for rhyme they entertain a +passion.<a name="vol2FNanchor_23_23" id="vol2FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_24_24" id="vol2FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_25_25" id="vol2FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xvi" id="vol2Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> slow-paced Anapæstic, or the prolonged +Alexandrine, which is not exactly measured by these sons and daughters +of song.<a name="vol2FNanchor_26_26" id="vol2FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_27_27" id="vol2FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_xvii" id="vol2Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_HOGG">JAMES HOGG,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub '><li> <a href="#vol2DONALD_MACDONALD">Donald Macdonald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_48">48</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FLORA_MACDONALDS_FAREWELL51">Flora Macdonald's farewell,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNY_PRINCE_CHARLIE">Bonnie Prince Charlie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_51">51</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_SKYLARK52">The skylark,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CALEDONIA53">Caledonia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_JEANIE_THERE_S_NAETHING_TO_FEAR_YE">O Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WHEN_THE_KYE_COMES_HAME54">When the kye comes hame,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_WOMEN_FOLK55">The women folk,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MLEANS_WELCOME56">M'Lean's welcome,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_59">59</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING57">Charlie is my darling,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOVE_IS_LIKE_A_DIZZINESS">Love is like a dizziness,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_62">62</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_WEEL_BEFA_THE_MAIDEN_GAY58">O weel befa' the maiden gay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_64">64</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FLOWERS_OF_SCOTLAND">The flowers of Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LASS_AN_YE_LOE_ME_TELL_ME_NOW59">Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2PULL_AWAY_JOLLY_BOYS">Pull away, jolly boys,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_SAW_YE_THIS_SWEET_BONNY_LASSIE_O_MINE">O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_70">70</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_AULD_HIGHLANDMAN">The auld Highlandman,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_71">71</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AH_PEGGIE_SINCE_THOU_RT_GANE_AWAY60">Ah, Peggy, since thou 'rt gane away,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_72">72</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GANG_TO_THE_BRAKENS_WI_ME">Gang to the brakens wi' me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_74">74</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOCK_THE_DOOR_LARISTON">Lock the door, Lariston,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2I_HAE_NAEBODY_NOW">I hae naebody now,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_MOON_WAS_A-WANING">The moon was a-waning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY">Good night, and joy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_79">79</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_MUIRHEAD_DD">JAMES MUIRHEAD, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_81">81</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2BESS_THE_GAWKIE">Bess the gawkie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_82">82</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2MRS_AGNES_LYON">MRS AGNES LYON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_84">84</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NEIL_GOWS_FAREWELL_TO_WHISKY62">Neil Gow's farewell to whisky,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_86">86</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SEE_THE_WINTER_CLOUDS_AROUND64">See the winter clouds around,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WITHIN_THE_TOWERS_OF_ANCIENT_GLAMMIS65">Within the towers of ancient Glammis,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MY_SON_GEORGES_DEPARTURE67">My son George's departure,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_90">90</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_LOCHORE">ROBERT LOCHORE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NOW_JENNY_LASS">Now, Jenny lass,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MARRIAGE_AND_THE_CARE_OT">Marriage, and the care o't,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_94">94</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MARYS_TWA_LOVERS">Mary's twa lovers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FORLORN_SHEPHERD68">The forlorn shepherd,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_96">96</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_ROBERTSON">JOHN ROBERTSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_98">98</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_TOOM_MEAL_POCK">The toom meal pock,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_99">99</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_BALFOUR">ALEXANDER BALFOUR,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_101">101</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNY_LASS_O_LEVEN_WATER">The bonnie lass o' Leven water,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_104">104</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SLIGHTED_LOVE">Slighted love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_105">105</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2GEORGE_MACINDOE">GEORGE MACINDOE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CHEESE_AND_WHISKY">Cheese and whisky,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BURN_TROUT">The burn trout,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_DOUGLAS">ALEXANDER DOUGLAS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2FIFE_AN_A_THE_LAND_ABOUT_IT70">Fife, an' a' the land about it,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_112">112</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_MLAREN">WILLIAM M'LAREN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2NOW_SUMMER_SHINES_WITH_GAUDY_PRIDE">Now summer shines with gaudy pride,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AND_DOST_THOU_SPEAK_SINCERE_MY_LOVE">And dost thou speak sincere, my love?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SAY_NOT_THE_BARD_HAS_TURND_OLD">Say not the bard has turn'd old,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_117">117</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2HAMILTON_PAUL">HAMILTON PAUL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_120">120</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2HELEN_GRAY">Helen Gray,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_128">128</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_OF_BARR">The bonnie lass of Barr,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_129">129</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_TANNAHILL">ROBERT TANNAHILL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2JESSIE_THE_FLOWER_O_DUMBLANE77">Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOUDOUNS_BONNIE_WOODS_AND_BRAES78">Loudon's bonnie woods and braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LASS_O_ARRANTEENIE79">The lass of Arranteenie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2YON_BURN_SIDE80">Yon burn side,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_GLENIFFER81">The braes o' Gleniffer,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THROUGH_CROCKSTON_CASTLES_LANELY_WAS82">Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_142">142</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_BALQUHITHER83">The braes o' Balquhither,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GLOOMY_WINTER_S_NOW_AWA">Gloomy winter 's now awa',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_ARE_YE_SLEEPING_MAGGIE">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2NOW_WINTER_WI_HIS_CLOUDY_BROW">Now winter, wi' his cloudy brow,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_DEAR_HIGHLAND_LADDIE_O">The dear Highland laddie, O,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_148">148</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_MIDGES_DANCE_ABOON_THE_BURN">The midges dance aboon the burn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BARROCHAN_JEAN85">Barrochan Jean,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_ROW_THEE_IN_MY_HIGHLAND_PLAID">O, row thee in my Highland plaid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNY_WOOD_OF_CRAIGIE_LEA86">Bonnie wood of Craigie lea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY87">Good night, and joy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_154">154</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2HENRY_DUNCAN_DD">HENRY DUNCAN, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CURLING_SONG">Curling song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ON_THE_GREEN_SWARD88">On the green sward,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_163">163</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_RUTHWELL_VOLUNTEERS89">The Ruthwell volunteers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_164">164</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2EXILED_FAR_FROM_SCENES_OF_PLEASURE90">Exiled far from scenes of pleasure,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_165">165</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_ROOF_OF_STRAW">The roof of straw,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THOU_KENST_MARY_HAY91">Thou kens't, Mary Hay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_167">167</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_ALLAN">ROBERT ALLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_MY_SWEET_BETTY">Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2COME_AWA_HIE_AWA">Come awa, hie awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ON_THEE_ELIZA_DWELL_MY_THOUGHTS">On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_173">173</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2TO_A_LINNET">To a linnet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_PRIMROSE_IS_BONNY_IN_SPRING">The primrose is bonnie in spring,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_WOODHOUSELEE">The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_175">175</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_SUN_IS_SETTING_ON_SWEET_GLENGARRY">The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_176">176</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HER_HAIR_WAS_LIKE_THE_CROMLA_MIST">Her hair was like the Cromla mist,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2O_LEEZE_ME_ON_THE_BONNIE_LASS">O leeze me on the bonnie lass,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_178">178</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2QUEEN_MARYS_ESCAPE_FROM_LOCHLEVEN_CASTLE">Queen Mary's escape from Lochleven Castle,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2WHEN_CHARLIE_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS_CAME">When Charlie to the Highlands came,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_180">180</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LORD_RONALD_CAME_TO_HIS_LADYS_BOWER">Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_181">181</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LOVELY_MAID_OF_ORMADALE">The lovely maid of Ormadale,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_183">183</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2A_LASSIE_CAM_TO_OUR_GATE">A lassie cam' to our gate,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_THISTLE_AND_THE_ROSE">The thistle and the rose,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_COVENANTERS_LAMENT">The Covenanter's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BONNIE_LASSIE">Bonnie lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_188">188</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2ANDREW_MERCER">ANDREW MERCER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HOUR_OF_LOVE">The hour of love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_190">190</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_LEYDEN_MD">JOHN LEYDEN, M.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_191">191</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ODE_TO_THE_EVENING_STAR">Ode to the evening star,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_RETURN_AFTER_ABSENCE">The return after absence,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LAMENT_FOR_RAMA">Lament for Rama,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2JAMES_SCADLOCK">JAMES SCADLOCK,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ALONG_BY_LEVERN_STREAM_SO_CLEAR97">Along by Levern stream so clear,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HARK_HARK_THE_SKYLARK_SINGING">Hark, hark, the skylark singing,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OCTOBER_WINDS">October winds,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_203">203</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2SIR_ALEXANDER_BOSWELL_BART">SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL, BART.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_204">204</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2JENNYS_BAWBEE">Jenny's bawbee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JENNY_DANG_THE_WEAVER100">Jenny dang the weaver,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_210">210</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LASS_O_ISLA">The lass o' Isla,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2TASTE_LIFES_GLAD_MOMENTS101">Taste life's glad moments,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A">Good night, and joy be wi' ye a',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_214">214</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OLD_AND_NEW_TIMES102">Old and new times,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BANNOCKS_O_BARLEY_MEAL103">Bannocks o' barley meal,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_216">216</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_GILLESPIE">WILLIAM GILLESPIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_218">218</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HIGHLANDER104">The Highlander,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ELLEN">Ellen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_221">221</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_MOUNSEY_CUNNINGHAM">THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ADOWN_THE_BURNIES_FLOWERY_BANK106">Adown the burnie's flowery bank,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_HILLS_O_GALLOWA107">The hills o' Gallowa',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_OF_BALLAHUN108">The braes o' Ballahun,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_229">229</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_UNCO_GRAVE109">The unco grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JULIAS_GRAVE">Julia's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FAREWEEL_YE_STREAMS">Fareweel, ye streams,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_232">232</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_STRUTHERS">JOHN STRUTHERS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2ADMIRING_NATURES_SIMPLE_CHARMS">Admiring Nature's simple charms,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_239">239</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OH_BONNIE_BUDS_YON_BIRCHEN_TREE">Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen tree,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_240">240</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2RICHARD_GALL">RICHARD GALL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_241">241</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2HOW_SWEET_IS_THE_SCENE">How sweet is the scene,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2CAPTAIN_OKAIN">Captain O'Kain,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MY_ONLY_JO_AND_DEARIE_O">My only jo and dearie, O, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BONNIE_BLINK_O_MARYS_EE110">The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BRAES_O_DRUMLEE">The braes o' Drumlee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_246">246</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2I_WINNA_GANG_BACK_TO_MY_MAMMY_AGAIN">I winna gang back to my mammy again,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_248">248</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BARD">The bard,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2LOUISA_IN_LOCHABER">Louisa in Lochaber,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_HAZELWOOD_WITCH">The hazlewood witch,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_250">250</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2FAREWELL_TO_AYRSHIRE111">Farewell to Ayrshire,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_251">251</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2GEORGE_SCOTT">GEORGE SCOTT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_FLOWER_OF_THE_TYNE">The flower of the Tyne,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_254">254</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_CAMPBELL">THOMAS CAMPBELL, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND">Ye mariners of England,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_262">262</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GLENARA">Glenara,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_WOUNDED_HUSSAR">The wounded hussar,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC">Battle of the Baltic,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MEN_OF_ENGLAND">Men of England,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_268">268</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2MRS_G_G_RICHARDSON112">MRS G. G. RICHARDSON, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_FAIRY_DANCE">The fairy dance,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SUMMER_MORNING">Summer morning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_THE_FLOWING_TIDE">There 's music in the flowing tide,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_275">275</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2AH_FADED_IS_THAT_LOVELY_BLOOM">Ah! faded is that lovely broom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_276">276</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2THOMAS_BROWN_MD">THOMAS BROWN, M.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_278">278</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2CONSOLATION_OF_ALTERED_FORTUNES">Consolation of altered fortunes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_281">281</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_FAITHLESS_MOURNER">The faithless mourner,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_282">282</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LUTE">The lute,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_283">283</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_CHALMERS">WILLIAM CHALMERS, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_285">285</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2SING_ON">Sing on,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_286">286</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_LOMOND_BRAES">The Lomond braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOSEPH_TRAIN">JOSEPH TRAIN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_DOGGIE">My doggie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_293">293</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BLOOMING_JESSIE">Blooming Jessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_295">295</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2OLD_SCOTIA">Old Scotia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_296">296</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_JAMIESON">ROBERT JAMIESON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_297">297</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_WIFE_S_A_WINSOME_WEE_THING">My wife 's a winsome wee thing,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_299">299</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2GO_TO_HIM_THEN_IF_THOU_CANST_GO">Go to him, then, if thou can'st go,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_300">300</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WALTER_WATSON">WALTER WATSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_302">302</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_JOCKIE_S_FAR_AWA">My Jockie 's far awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2MAGGIE_AN_ME">Maggie an' me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_305">305</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2SIT_DOWN_MY_CRONIE116">Sit down, my cronie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_306">306</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2BRAES_O_BEDLAY117">Braes o' Bedlay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_307">307</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2JESSIE">Jessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_308">308</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol2WILLIAM_LAIDLAW">WILLIAM LAIDLAW,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_310">310</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2LUCYS_FLITTIN118">Lucy's flittin',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_314">314</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2HER_BONNIE_BLACK_EE">Her bonnie black e'e,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_316">316</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2ALAKE_FOR_THE_LASSIE">Alake for the lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_317">317</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#vol2ALEXANDER_MACDONALD">ALEXANDER MACDONALD,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_321">321</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_LION_OF_MACDONALD">The lion of Macdonald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_323">323</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_BROWN_DAIRY-MAIDEN">The brown dairy-maiden,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_327">327</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_PRAISE_OF_MORAG">The praise of Morag,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_329">329</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2NEWS_OF_PRINCE_CHARLES">News of Prince Charles,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_335">335</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_ROY_STUART">JOHN ROY STUART,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_340">340</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2LAMENT_FOR_LADY_MACINTOSH">Lament for Lady Macintosh,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_341">341</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol2THE_DAY_OF_CULLODEN">The day of Culloden,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_343">343</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2JOHN_MORRISON">JOHN MORRISON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_346">346</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2MY_BEAUTY_DARK">My beauty dark,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_347">347</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol2ROBERT_MACKAY">ROBERT MACKAY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol2THE_HIGHLANDERS_HOME_SICKNESS">The Highlander's home sickness,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol2GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol2Page_350">350</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_1" id="vol2Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JAMES_HOGG" id="vol2JAMES_HOGG"></a>JAMES HOGG.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_2" id="vol2Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_28_28" id="vol2FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_3" id="vol2Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> 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":—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bard on Ettrick's mountain green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Nature's bosom nursed had been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft had mark'd in forest lone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauties on her mountain throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had seen her deck the wildwood tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And star with snowy gems the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In loveliest colours paint the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sow the moor with purple grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By golden mead and mountain sheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had view'd the Ettrick waving clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shadowy flocks of purest snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd grazing in a world below."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_4" id="vol2Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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 fortu<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_5" id="vol2Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>nate 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_6" id="vol2Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +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 <i>réunions</i> were not without their influence in stimulating +him to more ambitious efforts in versification.</p> + +<p>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-<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_7" id="vol2Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scots Magazine</i> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_8" id="vol2Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_9" id="vol2Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>With the exception of the song of "Donald Macdonald," Hogg had not yet +published verses. His <i>début</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_10" id="vol2Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +mortification of discovering "many of the stanzas omitted, others +misplaced, and typographical errors abounding in every page." The little +<i>brochure</i>, 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_11" id="vol2Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> employment, he +returned, with very reduced finances, to Ettrick Forest. He published a +rough narrative of his travels in the <i>Scots Magazine</i>; 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_12" id="vol2Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> 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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_29_29" id="vol2FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> is of itself a sufficient compensation for all that I +suffered in your country."</p> + +<p>Disappointed in obtaining an ensigncy in a Militia Regiment, through the +interest of Sir Walter Scott, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_13" id="vol2Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> 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 <i>prestige</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_14" id="vol2Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +contri<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_15" id="vol2Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>butors 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 <i>Morning Chronicle</i>; William Gillespie, the +ingenious minister of Kells; and John Sym, the renowned Timothy Tickler +of the "<i>Noctes</i>." 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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_30_30" id="vol2FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_16" id="vol2Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> 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:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alike to him the south and north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high he held the minstrel worth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high his ardent mind was wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once of himself he never thought."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_17" id="vol2Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> 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 <i>Eclectic Review</i>, 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 <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, in +November 1814, hailed the advent of a third edition.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_18" id="vol2Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> was Mr Blackwood, +afterwards the celebrated publisher of <i>Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine</i>. +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 <i>Scots Magazine</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_19" id="vol2Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> volumes, Southey addressed the +following letter to the Shepherd, which is now for the first time +published:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Keswick</span>, <i>December 1, 1814.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Hogg</span>,—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.'<a name="vol2FNanchor_31_31" id="vol2FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_20" id="vol2Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> my miscellaneous poems, collected +into three volumes. Your projected publication<a name="vol2FNanchor_32_32" id="vol2FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Robert Southey.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>In waging war with the Lake school of poetry, the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> had +dealt harshly with Southey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_21" id="vol2Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> 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 <i>Review</i> 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Keswick</span>, <i>24th Dec. 1814.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Hogg</span>,—I am truly obliged to you for the +solicitude which you express concerning the treatment +'Roderick' may experience in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, +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. <i>He</i> +crush the 'Excursion!!!'<a name="vol2FNanchor_33_33" id="vol2FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> Tell him that he might as +easily crush Skiddaw. For myself, <i>popularity</i> 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 <i>fame</i>, than Tom Thumb could stand in my +way in the street.</p> + +<p>"He knows that he has dealt unfairly and maliciously by +me;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_22" id="vol2Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> 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 <i>nettling</i> +(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.</p> + +<p>"Nettling is a gentle term for what he has to undergo. +In due season he shall be <i>scorpioned</i> and +<i>rattlesnaked</i>. When I take him in hand it shall be to +dissect him alive, and make a preparation of him to be +exhibited <i>in terrorem</i>, 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....<a name="vol2FNanchor_34_34" id="vol2FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_23" id="vol2Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>.... "'Roderick' has made good speed in the world, and +ere long I shall send you the poem in a more commodious +shape,<a name="vol2FNanchor_35_35" id="vol2FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>"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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Robert Southey.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>A review of "Roderick" appeared in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> for June 1815, +which on the whole was favourable, so that the wrath of the Laureate was +appeased.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_24" id="vol2Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_25" id="vol2Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> 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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_36_36" id="vol2FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> 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 +<i>wish</i> 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."</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_37_37" id="vol2FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> and entirely altered<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_26" id="vol2Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_38_38" id="vol2FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_27" id="vol2Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> his +personal friendship, and made him frequently share of his hospitality.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> 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 <i>Edinburgh Magazine</i>, 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_39_39" id="vol2FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_28" id="vol2Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> newly-established periodical. The "Chaldee Manuscript" +appeared in the seventh number of <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, 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 "<i>Noctes Ambrosianæ</i>" of +Professor Wilson. In those interesting dialogues, the <i>Shepherd</i> 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 "<i>Noctes</i>," +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_29" id="vol2Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The coronation of George IV. was fixed to take place<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_30" id="vol2Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_31" id="vol2Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> 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 <i>Quarterly +Review</i>, 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"27 <span class="smcap">Lower Belgrave Place</span>, <i>16th Feb. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear James</span>,—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.</p> + +<p>"Often do I tread back to the foot of old +Queensberry,<a name="vol2FNanchor_40_40" id="vol2FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_32" id="vol2Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"My brother's<a name="vol2FNanchor_41_41" id="vol2FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_33" id="vol2Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> My wife and I send her and +you most friendly greetings. We hope to see you both in +London during the summer.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>Gazette</i> in prose and verse for our +<i>ain</i> native Lowlands. The thing would take.</p> + +<p>"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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Allan Cunningham.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>One of the parties chiefly aggrieved in the matter of the Chaldee MS. +was Thomas Pringle, one of the original editors of <i>Blackwood</i>. 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>May 19, 1827</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>,—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 <i>Literary +Gazette</i>, to be entitled <i>The London Review</i>. 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_34" id="vol2Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> 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 <i>Blackwood</i>. 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....</p> + +<p>"I always read your '<i>Noctes</i>,' and have had many a +hearty laugh with them in the interior of Southern +Africa; for though I detest <i>Blackwood's</i> 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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Tho. Pringle.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Nottingham</span>, <i>12th mo., 20th, 1828.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Respected Friend</span>,—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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_35" id="vol2Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> 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 +<i>mountainous</i> 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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">W. Howitt.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_36" id="vol2Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Devongrove</span>, <i>27th June 1829.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Friend James Hogg</span>,—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 <i>Literary Journal</i>; I see you +in <i>Blackwood</i>, 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<a name="vol2FNanchor_42_42" id="vol2FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a>—but you may rest yourself +under the shadow of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_37" id="vol2Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Wm. Tennant.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_38" id="vol2Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> +for 1834, he again appeared before the public in the celebrated +"<i>Noctes</i>," which had been discontinued for upwards of two years, owing +to his misunderstanding with Mr Blackwood. On this subject<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_39" id="vol2Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> we are +privileged to publish the following letter, addressed to him by +Professor Wilson:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<i>30th April.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mr Hogg</span>,—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>I</i> ought to put an end to it on my own +responsibility. Without, therefore, asking either you +or Mr Blackwood, I have written a '<i>Noctes</i>,' 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.</p> + +<p>"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, <i>angling</i>, +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 '<i>Noctes</i>.' I +hope you will do so.</p> + +<p>"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,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">John Wilson.</span>"<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>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 dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_40" id="vol2Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>tinguished individuals met together on his account, he could +exclaim that surely he had found it at last!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_41" id="vol2Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> departure. The following verses from his pen +appeared in the <i>Athenæum</i> of the 12th of December:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When first descending from the moorlands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw the stream of Yarrow glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along a bare and open valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When last along its banks I wander'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through groves that had begun to shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their golden leaves upon the pathway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My steps the Border Minstrel led.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The mighty minstrel breathes no longer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid mouldering ruins low he lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death, upon the braes of Yarrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No more of old romantic sorrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For slaughter'd youth or love-lorn maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Ettrick mourns with her their Shepherd dead!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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 <span class="smcap">The Ettrick Shepherd</span>. 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Flow, my Ettrick! it was thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into my life that first did drop me;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_42" id="vol2Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thee I 'll sing, and when I dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wilt lend a sod to hap me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pausing swains will say, and weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here our Shepherd lies asleep.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<a name="vol2FNanchor_43_43" id="vol2FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_43" id="vol2Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_44_44" id="vol2FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_44" id="vol2Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> morality he may have +sometimes deviated, but it would be the worst exercise of +uncharitableness to doubt of his repentance.</p> + +<p>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<a name="vol2FNanchor_45_45" id="vol2FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> 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."<a name="vol2FNanchor_46_46" id="vol2FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_45" id="vol2Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> 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?</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_47_47" id="vol2FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> "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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_46" id="vol2Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>Of the Shepherd it has been recorded by one<a name="vol2FNanchor_48_48" id="vol2FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_47" id="vol2Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> 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 <i>maud</i> of a Shepherd."<a name="vol2FNanchor_49_49" id="vol2FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> + +<p>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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_48" id="vol2Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2DONALD_MACDONALD" id="vol2DONALD_MACDONALD"></a>DONALD MACDONALD.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Woo'd, and married, and a'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My name it is Donald Macdonald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I leeve in the Highlands sae grand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hae follow'd our banner, and will do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherever my master<a name="vol2FNanchor_50_50" id="vol2FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> has land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rankit amang the blue bonnets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae danger can fear me ava;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken that my brethren around me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are either to conquer or fa':<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brogues an' brochin an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brochin an' brogues an' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' is nae her very weel aff,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wi' her brogues and brochin an' a'?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though we befriendit young Charlie?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell it I dinna think shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor lad! he cam to us but barely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' reckon'd our mountains his hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas true that our reason forbade us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But tenderness carried the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had Geordie come friendless amang us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' him we had a' gane away.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sword an' buckler an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Buckler an' sword an' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Now for George we 'll encounter the devil,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wi' sword an' buckler and a'!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_49" id="vol2Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' O, I wad eagerly press him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The keys o' the East to retain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For should he gie up the possession,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll soon hae to force them again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though it were my finishing blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He aye may depend on Macdonald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' his Hielanders a' in a row:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Knees an' elbows an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Elbows an' knees an' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Depend upon Donald Macdonald,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">His knees an' elbows an' a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wad Bonaparte land at Fort William,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Auld Europe nae langer should grane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I laugh when I think how we 'd gall him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' bullet, wi' steel, an wi' stane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Garny<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'd rattle him off frae our shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lull him asleep in a cairny,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sing him—"Lochaber no more!"<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Stanes an' bullets an a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bullets an' stanes an' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We 'll finish the Corsican callan<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wi' stanes an' bullets an' a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the Gordon is good in a hurry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Campbell is steel to the bane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Grant, an' Mackenzie, an' Murray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Cameron will hurkle to nane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Stuart is sturdy an' loyal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sae is Macleod an' Mackay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I, their gude-brither Macdonald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ne'er be the last in the fray!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_50" id="vol2Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class="i6">Brogues and brochin an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brochin an' brogues an' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' up wi' the bonny blue bonnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The kilt an' the feather an' a'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2FLORA_MACDONALDS_FAREWELL51" id="vol2FLORA_MACDONALDS_FAREWELL51"></a>FLORA MACDONALD'S FAREWELL.<a name="vol2FNanchor_51_51" id="vol2FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far over yon hills of the heather sae green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' down by the corrie that sings to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonny young Flora sat sighing her lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd at a boat wi' the breezes that swung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away on the wave, like a bird of the main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye as it lessen'd she sigh'd and she sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel to my hero, the gallant and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moorcock that craws on the brows of Ben-Connal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He kens of his bed in a sweet mossy hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle that soars o'er the cliffs of Clan-Ronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unawed and unhunted his eyrie can claim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solan can sleep on the shelve of the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! there is one whose hard fate I deplore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor house, ha', nor hame in his country has he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The conflict is past, and our name is no more—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_51" id="vol2Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The target is torn from the arm of the just,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The claymore for ever in darkness must rust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But red is the sword of the stranger and slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hoof of the horse, and the foot of the proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When tyranny revell'd in blood of the true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, my young hero, the gallant and good!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy brow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BONNY_PRINCE_CHARLIE" id="vol2BONNY_PRINCE_CHARLIE"></a>BONNY PRINCE CHARLIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cam ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down by the Tummel or banks o' the Garry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye our lads wi' their bonnets and white cockades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">King o' the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae but ae son, my gallant young Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Health to M'Donnell and gallant Clan-Ronald—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For these are the men that will die for their Charlie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Follow thee! follow thee! &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down by Lord Murray, and Roy of Kildarlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave M'Intosh, he shall fly to the field with them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These are the lads I can trust wi' my Charlie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Follow thee! follow thee!&c.<br /></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_52" id="vol2Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ronald and Donald, drive on, wi' the broad claymore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the necks o' the foes o' Prince Charlie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Long hast thou loved and trusted us fairly!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">King o' the Highland hearts, bonny Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_SKYLARK52" id="vol2THE_SKYLARK52"></a>THE SKYLARK.<a name="vol2FNanchor_52_52" id="vol2FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Bird of the wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blithesome and cumberless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bless'd is thy dwelling-place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wild is thy lay and loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Far in the downy cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where on thy dewy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where art thou journeying?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er fell and mountain sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er moor and mountain green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Over the cloudlet dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Over the rainbow's rim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_53" id="vol2Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Then, when the gloaming comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Low in the heather blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blest is thy dwelling-place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CALEDONIA53" id="vol2CALEDONIA53"></a>CALEDONIA.<a name="vol2FNanchor_53_53" id="vol2FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the ocean, the mist, and the wind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou land of the torrent, the pine, and the oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the roebuck, the hart, and the hind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bare are thy cliffs, and though barren thy glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though bleak thy dun islands appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet kind are the hearts, and undaunted the clans,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That roam on these mountains so drear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A foe from abroad, or a tyrant at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could never thy ardour restrain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marshall'd array of imperial Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Essay'd thy proud spirit in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firm seat of religion, of valour, of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of genius unshackled and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muses have left all the vales of the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My loved Caledonia, for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet land of the bay and the wild-winding deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where loveliness slumbers at even,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_54" id="vol2Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While far in the depth of the blue water sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A calm little motionless heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou land of the valley, the moor, and the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the storm, and the proud-rolling wave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, thou art the land of fair liberty still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the land of my forefathers' grave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_JEANIE_THERE_S_NAETHING_TO_FEAR_YE" id="vol2O_JEANIE_THERE_S_NAETHING_TO_FEAR_YE"></a>O, JEANIE, THERE 'S NAETHING TO FEAR YE!</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Over the Border."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, my lassie, our joy to complete again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meet me again i' the gloamin', my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low down in the dell let us meet again—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, when the wee bat flits silent and eiry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, when the pale face o' Nature looks weary;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Love be thy sure defence,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Beauty and innocence—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetly blaw the haw an' the rowan tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild roses speck our thicket sae breery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still will our walk in the greenwood be—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">List when the blackbird o' singing grows weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">List when the beetle-bee's bugle comes near ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Then come with fairy haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Light foot, an' beating breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_55" id="vol2Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far, far will the bogle and brownie be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beauty an' truth, they darena come near it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind love is the tie of our unity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' maun love it, an' a' maun revere it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis love maks the sang o' the woodland sae cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love gars a' Nature look bonny that 's near ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That makes the rose sae sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Cowslip an' violet—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, Jeanie, there 's naething to fear ye!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2WHEN_THE_KYE_COMES_HAME54" id="vol2WHEN_THE_KYE_COMES_HAME54"></a>WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME.<a name="vol2FNanchor_54_54" id="vol2FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Shame fa' the gear and the blathrie o't."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come all ye jolly shepherds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That whistle through the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll tell ye of a secret<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That courtiers dinna ken:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is the greatest bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the tongue o' man can name?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis to woo a bonny lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_56" id="vol2Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not beneath the coronet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor canopy of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not on couch of velvet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor arbour of the great—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis beneath the spreadin' birk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the glen without the name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the blackbird bigs his nest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the mate he lo'es to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the topmost bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, a happy bird is he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he pours his melting ditty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love is a' the theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he 'll woo his bonny lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the blewart bears a pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the daisy turns a pea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bonny lucken gowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fauldit up her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the laverock frae the blue lift<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doops down, an' thinks nae shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo his bonny lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See yonder pawkie shepherd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lingers on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ewes are in the fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' his lambs are lying still;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_57" id="vol2Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet he downa gang to bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his heart is in a flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet his bonny lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the little wee bit heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rises high in the breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the little wee bit starn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rises red in the east,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O there 's a joy sae dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the heart can hardly frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then since all Nature joins<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this love without alloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, wha would prove a traitor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Nature's dearest joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wha would choose a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its perils and its fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And miss his bonny lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the kye comes hame?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes home,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the kye comes hame!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_58" id="vol2Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_WOMEN_FOLK55" id="vol2THE_WOMEN_FOLK55"></a>THE WOMEN FOLK.<a name="vol2FNanchor_55_55" id="vol2FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O sarely may I rue the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fancied first the womenkind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye sinsyne I ne'er can hae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae quiet thought or peace o' mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hae plagued my heart, an' pleased my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' teased an' flatter'd me at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye, for a' their witchery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pawky things I lo'e them still.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, the women folk! O, the women folk!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But they hae been the wreck o' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, weary fa' the women folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For they winna let a body be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae thought an' thought, but darena tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've studied them wi' a' my skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've lo'ed them better than mysel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've tried again to like them ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha sairest strives, will sairest rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To comprehend what nae man can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he has done what man can do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 'll end at last where he began.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, the woman folk, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That they hae gentle forms an' meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A man wi' half a look may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gracefu' airs, an' faces sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' waving curls aboon the bree;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_59" id="vol2Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' smiles as soft as the young rose-bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' e'en sae pauky, bright, an' rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad lure the laverock frae the clud—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, laddie, seek to ken nae mair!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, the woman folk, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even but this night, nae farther gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The date is neither lost nor lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tak ye witness ilka ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How fell they fought, and fairly dang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their point they 've carried right or wrang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a reason, rhyme, or law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' forced a man to sing a sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ne'er could sing a verse ava.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, the woman folk! O, the woman folk!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But they hae been the wreck o' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, weary fa' the women folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For they winna let a body be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MLEANS_WELCOME56" id="vol2MLEANS_WELCOME56"></a>M'LEAN'S WELCOME.<a name="vol2FNanchor_56_56" id="vol2FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the stream, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear Charlie, brave Charlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the stream, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And dine with M'Lean;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_60" id="vol2Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And though you be weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll make your heart cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And welcome our Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And his loyal train.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll bring down the track deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll bring down the black steer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lamb from the braken,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And doe from the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The salt sea we 'll harry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bring to our Charlie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cream from the bothy<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And curd from the penn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the stream, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear Charlie, brave Charlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the sea, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And dine with M'Lean;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you shall drink freely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dews of Glen-sheerly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That stream in the starlight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When kings do not ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deep be your meed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the wine that is red,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To drink to your sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And his friend The M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the stream, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear Charlie, brave Charlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come o'er the stream, Charlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And dine with M'Lean;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If aught will invite you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or more will delight you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highlandmen,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_61" id="vol2Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +<span class="i2">All ranged on the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With bonnet and feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strong arms and broad claymores,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Three hundred and ten!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING57" id="vol2CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING57"></a>CHARLIE IS MY DARLING.<a name="vol2FNanchor_57_57" id="vol2FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a Monday morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right early in the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Charlie cam' to our town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young Chevalier.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My darling, my darling;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The young Chevalier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As Charlie he came up the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His face shone like the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grat to see the lad come back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That had been lang away.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' Charlie is my darling, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then ilka bonny lassie sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to the door she ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our King shall hae his ain again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Charlie is the man:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For Charlie he 's my darling, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_62" id="vol2Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out ow'r yon moory mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' down the craggy glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of naething else our lasses sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Charlie an' his men.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' Charlie he 's my darling, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Highland hearts are true an' leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' glow without a stain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Highland swords are metal keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Charlie he 's our ain.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' Charlie he 's my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My darling, my darling;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie he 's my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The young Chevalier.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LOVE_IS_LIKE_A_DIZZINESS" id="vol2LOVE_IS_LIKE_A_DIZZINESS"></a>LOVE IS LIKE A DIZZINESS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Paddy's Wedding."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lately lived in quiet ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' never wish'd to marry, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I saw my Peggy's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I felt a sad quandary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though wild as ony Athol deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She has trepann'd me fairly, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cherry cheeks an' e'en sae clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Torment me late an' early, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, love, love, love!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Love is like a dizziness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It winna let a poor body<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gang about his business!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_63" id="vol2Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To tell my feats this single week,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would mak' a daft-like diary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I drave my cart outow'r a dike,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My horses in a miry, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wear my stockings white an' blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love 's sae fierce an' fiery, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I drill the land that I should plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' plough the drills entirely, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O, love, love, love! &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae morning, by the dawn o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I rose to theek the stable, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I keust my coat an' plied away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fast as I was able, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wrought that morning out an' out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I 'd been redding fire, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I had done an' look'd about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gude faith, it was the byre, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O, love, love, love! &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her wily glance I 'll ne'er forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dear, the lovely blinkin' o't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has pierced me through an' through the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' plagues me wi' the prinklin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tried to sing, I tried to pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I tried to drown 't wi' drinkin' o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tried wi' sport to drive 't away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ne'er can sleep for thinkin' o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O, love, love, love! &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae man can tell what pains I prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or how severe my pliskie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I swear I 'm sairer drunk wi' love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than e'er I was wi' whisky, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_64" id="vol2Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For love has raked me fore an' aft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I scarce can lift a leggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I first grew dizzy, then gaed daft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' soon I 'll dee for Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O, love, love, love!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Love is like a dizziness,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It winna let a poor body<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Gang about his business!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_WEEL_BEFA_THE_MAIDEN_GAY58" id="vol2O_WEEL_BEFA_THE_MAIDEN_GAY58"></a>O, WEEL BEFA' THE MAIDEN GAY.<a name="vol2FNanchor_58_58" id="vol2FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, weel befa' the maiden gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In cottage, bught, or penn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weel befa' the bonny May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wons in yonder glen;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_65" id="vol2Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wha loes the modest truth sae weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha 's aye kind, an' aye sae leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' pure as blooming asphodel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang sae mony men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, weel befa' the bonny thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wons in yonder glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis sweet to hear the music float<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the gloaming lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come pealing frae the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the lambkins lightsome race—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The speckled kid in wanton chase—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young deer cower in lonely place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in her flowing den;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter far the bonny face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That smiles in yonder glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, had it no' been for the blush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' maiden's virgin flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear beauty never had been known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' never had a name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye sin' that dear thing o' blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was modell'd by an angel's frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power o' beauty reigns supreme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er a' the sons o' men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But deadliest far the sacred flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Burns in a lonely glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's beauty in the violet's vest—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's hinney in the haw—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's dew within the rose's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweetest o' them a'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_66" id="vol2Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The sun will rise an' set again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lace wi' burning goud the main—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow bend outow'r the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae lovely to the ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lovelier far the bonny thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wons in yonder glen!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_FLOWERS_OF_SCOTLAND" id="vol2THE_FLOWERS_OF_SCOTLAND"></a>THE FLOWERS OF SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Blue Bells of Scotland."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are the flowers of Scotland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All others that excel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely flowers of Scotland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All others that excel?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistle's purple bonnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bonny heather-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, they 're the flowers of Scotland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All others that excel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though England eyes her roses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With pride she 'll ne'er forego,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose has oft been trodden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By foot of haughty foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the thistle in her bonnet blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still nods outow'r the fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dares the proudest foeman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tread the heather-bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the wee bit leaf o' Ireland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alack and well-a-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ilka hand is free to pu'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' steal the gem away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_67" id="vol2Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But the thistle in her bonnet blue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still bobs aboon them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her the bravest darena blink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gie his mou' a thraw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up wi' the flowers o' Scotland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The emblems o' the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their guardians for a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their guardians still we 'll be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A foe had better brave the deil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within his reeky cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than our thistle's purple bonnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or bonny heather-bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LASS_AN_YE_LOE_ME_TELL_ME_NOW59" id="vol2LASS_AN_YE_LOE_ME_TELL_ME_NOW59"></a>LASS, AN' YE LO'E ME, TELL ME NOW.<a name="vol2FNanchor_59_59" id="vol2FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Afore the muircock begin to craw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonniest thing that ever ye saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I canna come every night to woo."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The gouden broom is bonny to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sae is the milk-white flower o' the haw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisy's wee freenge is sweet on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the bud of the rose is the bonniest of a'."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now, wae light on a' your flow'ry chat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no the thing that I would be at,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I canna come every night to woo!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_68" id="vol2Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The lamb is bonny upon the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The leveret friskin' o'er the knowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bird is bonny upon the tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But which is the dearest of a' to you?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The thing that I lo'e best of a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, an' ye lo'e me, tell me now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dearest thing that ever I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I canna come every night to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the kindly smile that beams on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whenever a gentle hand I press,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wily blink frae the dark-blue e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a dear, dear lassie that they ca' Bess."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Aha! young man, but I cou'dna see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What I lo'e best I 'll tell you now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The compliment that ye sought frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though ye canna come every night to woo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I would rather hae frae you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kindly look, an' a word witha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a' the flowers o' the forest pu',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than a' the lads that ever I saw."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then, dear, dear Bessie, you shall be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' a' the truth ye hae tauld me now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts an' fortunes we 'll entwine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'll aye come every night to woo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For O, I canna descrive to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feeling o' love's and nature's law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dear this world appears to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' Bessie, my ain for good an' for a'!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_69" id="vol2Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2PULL_AWAY_JOLLY_BOYS" id="vol2PULL_AWAY_JOLLY_BOYS"></a>PULL AWAY, JOLLY BOYS!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here we go upon the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, jolly boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heaven for our guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's a weather-beaten tar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Britain's glory still his star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has borne her thunders far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, jolly boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To your gallant men-of-war,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 've with Nelson plough'd the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, jolly boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now his signal flies again,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave hearts, then let us go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drub the haughty foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who once again shall know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, gallant boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That our backs we never shew,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have fought and we have sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, gallant boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the rolling wave was red,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've stood many a mighty shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the thunder-stricken oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've been bent, but never broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, gallant boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We ne'er brook'd a foreign yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_70" id="vol2Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here we go upon the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, gallant boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the ocean let us sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the earth our glory rings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the thought my bosom springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whene'er our pennant swings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, gallant boys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the ocean we 're the kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Pull away!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_SAW_YE_THIS_SWEET_BONNY_LASSIE_O_MINE" id="vol2O_SAW_YE_THIS_SWEET_BONNY_LASSIE_O_MINE"></a>O, SAW YE THIS SWEET BONNY LASSIE O' MINE?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, saw ye this sweet bonny lassie o' mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure naebody e'er was so happy as me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she dances sae light on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no the simplicity mark'd in her mien;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O, it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes me as happy as happy can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe out the soul of a saft melting kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth here there 's naething is equal to this!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_71" id="vol2Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When friends circled round me, and nought to annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have felt every joy that illumines the breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O, there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's early day, when the bosom is warm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When soul meets wi' soul in a saft melting kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_AULD_HIGHLANDMAN" id="vol2THE_AULD_HIGHLANDMAN"></a>THE AULD HIGHLANDMAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hersell pe auchty years and twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Te twenty-tird o' May, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She twell amang te Heelan hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ayont the reefer Spey, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tat year tey foucht the Sherra-muir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She first peheld te licht, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tey shot my father in tat stoure—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A plaguit, vexin' spite, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've feucht in Scotland here at hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In France and Shermanie, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cot tree tespurt pluddy oons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond te 'Lantic sea, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wae licht on te nasty cun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tat ever she pe porn, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phile koot klymore te tristle caird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her leaves pe never torn, man.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_72" id="vol2Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae tay I shot, and shot, and shot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Phane'er it cam my turn, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put a' te force tat I could gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Te powter wadna purn, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A filty loon cam wi' his cun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Resolvt to to me harm, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' te tirk upon her nose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ke me a pluddy arm, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I flang my cun wi' a' my micht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And felt his nepour teit, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tan drew my swort, and at a straik<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hewt aff te haf o 's heit, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be vain to tell o' a' my tricks;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My oons pe nae tiscrace, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ter no pe yin pehint my back,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ter a pefore my face, man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2AH_PEGGIE_SINCE_THOU_RT_GANE_AWAY60" id="vol2AH_PEGGIE_SINCE_THOU_RT_GANE_AWAY60"></a>AH, PEGGIE, SINCE THOU 'RT GANE AWAY!<a name="vol2FNanchor_60_60" id="vol2FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, Peggie! since thou 'rt gane away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' left me here to languish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna fend anither day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sic regretfu' anguish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind 's the aspen i' the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ceaseless waving motion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis like a ship without a sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On life's unstable ocean.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_73" id="vol2Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I downa bide to see the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blink owre the glen sae clearly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aince on a bonnie face she shone—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A face that I lo'ed dearly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when beside yon water clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At e'en I 'm lanely roaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh an' think, if ane was here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How sweet wad fa' the gloaming!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think o' thy cheerfu' smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy words sae free an' kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy pawkie e'e's bewitching wile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The unbidden tear will blind me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose's deepest blushing hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cheek could eithly borrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ae kiss o' thy cherry mou'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was worth a year o' sorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! in the slippery paths of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let prudence aye direct thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let virtue every step approve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' virtue will respect thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ilka pleasure, ilka pang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alak! I am nae stranger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' he wha aince has wander'd wrang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is best aware o' danger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May still thy heart be kind an' true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' ither maids excelling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May heaven distil its purest dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around thy rural dwelling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May flow'rets spring an' wild birds sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around thee late an' early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oft to thy remembrance bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lad that loo'd thee dearly.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_74" id="vol2Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GANG_TO_THE_BRAKENS_WI_ME" id="vol2GANG_TO_THE_BRAKENS_WI_ME"></a>GANG TO THE BRAKENS WI' ME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll sing of yon glen of red heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a dear thing that ca's it her hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha 's a' made o' love-life thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae the tie o' the shoe to the kaime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love beckons in every sweet motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commanding due homage to gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the shrine o' my dearest devotion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the bend o' her bonny e'ebree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fleech'd an' I pray'd the dear lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the brakens wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though neither lordly nor saucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her answer was—"Laith wad I be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I neither hae father nor mither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sage counsel or caution to gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' prudence has whisper'd me never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the brakens wi' thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear lassie, how can ye upbraid me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' try your ain love to beguile?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ye are the richest young lady<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever gaid o'er the kirk-stile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your smile that is blither than ony,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bend o' your cheerfu' e'ebree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the sweet blinks o' love there sae bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are five hunder thousand to me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She turn'd her around an' said, smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the tear in her blue e'e shone clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"You 're welcome, kind sir, to your mailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For, O, you have valued it dear:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_75" id="vol2Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Gae make out the lease, do not linger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the parson indorse the decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' then, for a wave of your finger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll gang to the brakens wi' thee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's joy in the bright blooming feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When love lurks in every young line;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's joy in the beauties of nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's joy in the dance and the wine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's a delight will ne'er perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mang pleasures all fleeting and vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that is to love and to cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fond little heart that's our ain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LOCK_THE_DOOR_LARISTON" id="vol2LOCK_THE_DOOR_LARISTON"></a>LOCK THE DOOR, LARISTON.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock the door, Lariston, Lowther comes on,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Armstrongs are flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their widows are crying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Castletown's burning, and Oliver's gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock the door, Lariston,—high on the weather gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how the Saxon plumes bob on the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yeoman and carbineer,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Billman and halberdier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bewcastle brandishes high his broad scimitar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hedley and Howard there,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wandale and Windermere,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock the door, Lariston, hold them at bay.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_76" id="vol2Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why dost thou smile, noble Elliot of Lariston?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do the joy-candles gleam in thine eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bold Border ranger<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Beware of thy danger—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy foes are relentless, determined, and nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jock Elliot raised up his steel bonnet and lookit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hand grasp'd the sword with a nervous embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"Ah, welcome, brave foemen,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On earth there are no men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More gallant to meet in the foray or chase!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little know you of the hearts I have hidden here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little know you of our moss-troopers' might,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Lindhope and Sorby true,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sundhope and Milburn too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle in manner, but lions in fight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 've Margerton, Gornberry, Raeburn, and Netherby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Sim of Whitram, and all his array;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come, all Northumberland,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Teesdale and Cumberland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here at the Breaken Tower end shall the fray."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scowl'd the broad sun o'er the links of green Liddisdale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red as the beacon-light tipp'd he the wold;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Many a bold martial eye<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Mirror'd that morning sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never more oped on his orbit of gold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shrill was the bugle's note, dreadful the warrior shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lances and halberts in splinters were borne;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Halberd and hauberk then<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Braved the claymore in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buckler and armlet in shivers were shorn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_77" id="vol2Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i0">See how they wane, the proud files of the Windermere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howard—ah! woe to thy hopes of the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hear the wide welkin rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While the Scots' shouts ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Elliot of Lariston, Elliot for aye!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2I_HAE_NAEBODY_NOW" id="vol2I_HAE_NAEBODY_NOW"></a>I HAE NAEBODY NOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet me upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' light locks waving o'er her brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' joy in her deep blue e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the raptured kiss an' the happy smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the dance o' the lightsome fay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the wee bit tale o' news the while<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That had happen'd when I was away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To clasp to my bosom at even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her calm sleep to breathe the vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' pray for a blessing from heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the wild embrace, an' the gleesome face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the morning, that met my eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are they now, where are they now?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the cauld, cauld grave they lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's naebody kens, there 's naebody kens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' O may they never prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sharpest degree o' agony<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the child o' their earthly love—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_78" id="vol2Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To see a flower in its vernal hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By slow degrees decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, calmly aneath the hand o' death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe its sweet soul away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, dinna break, my poor auld heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor at thy loss repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the unseen hand that threw the dart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was sent frae her Father and thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I maun mourn, an' I will mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even till my latest day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though my darling can never return,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can follow the sooner away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_MOON_WAS_A-WANING" id="vol2THE_MOON_WAS_A-WANING"></a>THE MOON WAS A-WANING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon was a-waning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tempest was over;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair was the maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fond was the lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the snow was so deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That his heart it grew weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he sunk down to sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the moorland so dreary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft was the bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She had made for her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White were the sheets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And embroider'd the cover;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_79" id="vol2Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But his sheets are more white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his canopy grander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounder he sleeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the hill foxes wander.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, pretty maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sorrows attend you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see you sit shivering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lights at your window;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long may you wait<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere your arms shall enclose him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still, still he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a wreath on his bosom!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How painful the task,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sad tidings to tell you!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An orphan you were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere this misery befell you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far in yon wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the dead-tapers hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So cold, cold and wan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies the corpse of your lover!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY" id="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY"></a>GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The year is wearing to the wane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' day is fading west awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud raves the torrent an' the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dark the cloud comes down the shaw;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_80" id="vol2Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But let the tempest tout an' blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon his loudest winter horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good night, and joy be wi' you a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll maybe meet again the morn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, we hae wander'd far and wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Scotia's hills, o'er firth an' fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a simple flower we 've cull'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' trimm'd them wi' the heather-bell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've ranged the dingle an' the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hamlet an' the baron's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now let us take a kind farewell,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I was wayward, you were kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sorrow'd when I went astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For O, my strains were often wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As winds upon a winter day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er I led you from the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgie your Minstrel aince for a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tear fa's wi' his parting lay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good night, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_81" id="vol2Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JAMES_MUIRHEAD_DD" id="vol2JAMES_MUIRHEAD_DD"></a>JAMES MUIRHEAD, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."<a name="vol2FNanchor_61_61" id="vol2FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_82" id="vol2Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BESS_THE_GAWKIE" id="vol2BESS_THE_GAWKIE"></a>BESS, THE GAWKIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Bess, the Gawkie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blythe young Bess to Jean did say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye gang to yon sunny brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flocks do feed, and herds do stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sport a while wi' Jamie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, na, lass, I 'll no gang there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor about Jamie tak' a care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor about Jamie tak' a care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he 's ta'en up wi' Maggie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For hark, and I will tell you, lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I not see young Jamie pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' mickle blytheness in his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out ower the muir to Maggie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wat he gae her mony a kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Maggie took them nae amiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tween ilka smack pleased her wi' this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Bess was but a gawkie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when a civil kiss I seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She turns her head, and thraws her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for an hour she 'll hardly speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'd no ca' her a gawkie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sure my Maggie has mair sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll gie a score without offence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now gie me ane into the mense,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye shall be my dawtie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_83" id="vol2Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Jamie, ye hae monie ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will never stand for ane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or twa when we do meet again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So ne'er think me a gawkie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, na, lass, that canna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic thoughts as thae are far frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ony thy sweet face that see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'er to think thee a gawkie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, whisht, nae mair o' this we 'll speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For yonder Jamie does us meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead o' Meg he kiss'd sae sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I trow he likes the gawkie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, dear Bess! I hardly knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I cam' by, your gown sae new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think you 've got it wet wi' dew!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quoth she, That 's like a gawkie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's wat wi' dew, and 'twill get rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll get gowns when it is gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae ye may gang the gate ye came,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tell it to your dawtie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guilt appear'd in Jamie's cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cried, O cruel maid, but sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I should gang anither gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ne'er could meet my dawtie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lasses fast frae him they flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left poor Jamie sair to rue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever Maggie's face he knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or yet ca'd Bess a gawkie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they gaed ower the muir, they sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills and dales wi' echoes rang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills and dales wi' echoes rang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gang o'er the muir to Maggie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_84" id="vol2Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2MRS_AGNES_LYON" id="vol2MRS_AGNES_LYON"></a>MRS AGNES LYON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mrs Lyon died on the 14th September 1840, having<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_85" id="vol2Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Written off-hand, as one may say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps upon a rainy day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps while at the cradle rocking.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of knitting at a stocking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'd catch a paper, pen, and ink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And easily the verses clink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps a headache at a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would make her on her bed recline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rather than be merely idle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'd give her fancy rein and bridle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She neither wanted lamp nor oil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor found composing any toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for correction's iron wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never took it in her hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can, with conscience clear, declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ne'er neglected house affair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor put her little babes aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take on Pegasus a ride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather let pens and paper flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than any mother have the shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Except at any <i>orra time</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spend her hours in making rhyme."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_86" id="vol2Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2NEIL_GOWS_FAREWELL_TO_WHISKY62" id="vol2NEIL_GOWS_FAREWELL_TO_WHISKY62"></a>NEIL GOW'S FAREWELL TO WHISKY.<a name="vol2FNanchor_62_62" id="vol2FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Farewell to Whisky."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You 've surely heard of famous Neil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man who play'd the fiddle weel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a heartsome merry chiel',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And weel he lo'ed the whisky, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For e'er since he wore the tartan hose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dearly liket <i>Athole brose</i>!<a name="vol2FNanchor_63_63" id="vol2FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grieved he was, you may suppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To bid "farewell to whisky," O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! says Neil, I'm frail and auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whiles my hame is unco cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think it makes me blythe and bauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A wee drap Highland whisky, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' the doctors do agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whisky 's no the drink for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm fley'd they'll gar me tyne my glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By parting me and whisky, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I should mind on "auld lang syne,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Paradise our friends did tyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because something ran in their mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Forbid—like Highland whisky, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_87" id="vol2Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst I can get good wine and ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find my heart, and fingers hale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll be content, though legs should fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And though forbidden whisky, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll tak' my fiddle in my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And screw its strings whilst they can stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mak' a lamentation grand<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For guid auld Highland whisky, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! all ye powers of music, come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For deed I think I 'm mighty glum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fiddle-strings will hardly bum,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To say, "farewell to whisky," O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SEE_THE_WINTER_CLOUDS_AROUND64" id="vol2SEE_THE_WINTER_CLOUDS_AROUND64"></a>SEE THE WINTER CLOUDS AROUND.<a name="vol2FNanchor_64_64" id="vol2FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the winter clouds around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the leaves lie on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pretty little Robin comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking for his daily crumbs!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the window near the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little Robin you may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There his slender board is fix'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There his crumbs are bruised and mix'd.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_88" id="vol2Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">View his taper limbs, how neat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his eyes like beads of jet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See his pretty feathers shine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little Robin haste and dine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sweet Robin leaves the space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other birds will fill his place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the Tit-mouse, pretty thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the Sparrow's sombre wing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great and grand disputes arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the crumbs of largest size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the bravest and the best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear triumphant to their nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What a pleasure thus to feed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hungry mouths in time of need!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whether it be men or birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crumbs are better far than words.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2WITHIN_THE_TOWERS_OF_ANCIENT_GLAMMIS65" id="vol2WITHIN_THE_TOWERS_OF_ANCIENT_GLAMMIS65"></a>WITHIN THE TOWERS OF ANCIENT GLAMMIS.<a name="vol2FNanchor_65_65" id="vol2FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Merry in the Hall."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the towers of ancient Glammis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some merry men did dine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their host took care they should richly fare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In friendship, wit, and wine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_89" id="vol2Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But they sat too late, and mistook the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(For wine mounts to the brain);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, 'twas merry in the hall, when the beards wagg'd all;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, we hope they 'll be back again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We hope they 'll be back again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sir Walter tapp'd at the parson's door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To find the proper way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he dropt his switch, though there was no ditch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the steps it lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So his wife took care of this nice affair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she wiped it free from stain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the knight was gone, nor the owner known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So he ne'er got the switch again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So he ne'er got the switch again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This wondrous little whip<a name="vol2FNanchor_66_66" id="vol2FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> remains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the lady's sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(She crambo makes, with some mistakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But hopes for further light).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she ne'er will part with this switch so smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These thirty years her ain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the knight appear, it must just lie here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He will ne'er get his switch again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He will ne'er get his switch again!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_90" id="vol2Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_SON_GEORGES_DEPARTURE67" id="vol2MY_SON_GEORGES_DEPARTURE67"></a>MY SON GEORGE'S DEPARTURE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_67_67" id="vol2FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Peggy Brown."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The parting kiss, the soft embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel them at my heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere joy to clasp you in those arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But agony to part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let us tranquillise our minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hope the time may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I shall see that face again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So loved, so dear to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Five tedious years have roll'd along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And griefs have had their sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though many comforts fill'd my cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet thou wert far away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On pleasant days, when friends are met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our sports are scarce begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I shall sigh, because I miss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My George, my eldest son!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I owe my grateful thanks to Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've seen thee well and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've heard the music of thy voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've heard thee sweetly play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O try and cheer us with your strains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere many twelvemonths be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let us hear that voice again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So loved, so dear to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_91" id="vol2Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ROBERT_LOCHORE" id="vol2ROBERT_LOCHORE"></a>ROBERT LOCHORE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_92" id="vol2Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2NOW_JENNY_LASS" id="vol2NOW_JENNY_LASS"></a>NOW, JENNY LASS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Garryowen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Jenny lass, my bonnie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My daddy 's dead, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's snugly laid aneath the yird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I 'm his heir, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm now a laird, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm now a laird, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His gear an' land 's at my command,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And muckle mair than a' that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left me wi' his deein' breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dwallin' house, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A burn, a byre, an' wabs o' claith—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A big peat-stack, an' a' that.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mare, a foal, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mare, a foal, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sax guid fat kye, a cauf forby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' twa pet ewes, an' a' that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A yard, a meadow, lang braid leas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' stacks o' corn, an' a' that—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enclosed weel wi' thorns an' trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' carts, an' cars, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid harrows twa, cock, hens, an' a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A grecie, too, an' a' that.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_93" id="vol2Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've heaps o' claes for ilka days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Sundays, too, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've bills an' bonds on lairds an' lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And siller, gowd, an' a' that.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What think ye, lass, o' a' that?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What think ye, lass, o' a' that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What want I noo, my dainty doo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But just a wife to a' that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Jenny dear, my errand here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is to seek ye to a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart 's a' loupin', while I speer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye 'll tak me, wi' a' that.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mysel', my gear, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mysel', my gear, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, gie 's your loof to be a proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll be a wife to a' that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Syne Jenny laid her neive in his—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said, she 'd tak him wi' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' he gied her a hearty kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' dauted her, an' a' that.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They set a day, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They set a day, an' a' that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan she 'd gang hame to be his dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' haud a rant, an' a' that.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_94" id="vol2Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MARRIAGE_AND_THE_CARE_OT" id="vol2MARRIAGE_AND_THE_CARE_OT"></a>MARRIAGE, AND THE CARE O'T.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Whistle o'er the lave o't."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth Rab to Kate, My sonsy dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've woo'd ye mair than half a-year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' if ye 'd wed me, ne'er cou'd speer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' blateness, an' the care o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to the point: sincere I 'm we 't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye be my half-marrow sweet?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake han's, and say a bargain be 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ne'er think on the care o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Na, na, quo' Kate, I winna wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' sic a snare I 'll aye be rede;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How mony, thochtless, are misled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By marriage, an' the care o't!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A single life 's a life o' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wife ne'er think to mak' o' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae toil an' sorrow I 'll keep free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a' the dool an' care o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weel, weel, said Robin, in reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye ne'er again shall me deny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may a toothless maiden die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For me, I 'll tak' nae care o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, for ever!—aff I hie;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae took his leave without a sigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! stop, quo' Kate, I 'm yours, I 'll try<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The married life, an' care o't.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_95" id="vol2Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rab wheel't about, to Kate cam' back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gae her mou' a hearty smack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne lengthen'd out a lovin' crack<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Bout marriage, an' the care o't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though as she thocht she didna speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lookit unco mim an' meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet blythe was she wi' Rab to cleek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In marriage, wi' the care o't.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MARYS_TWA_LOVERS" id="vol2MARYS_TWA_LOVERS"></a>MARY'S TWA LOVERS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Bessie Bell and Mary Gray."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Aunty, I 've been lang your care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your counsels guid ha'e blest me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in a kittle case ance mair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' your advice assist me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twa lovers frequent on me wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' baith I frankly speak wi';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I 'm put in a puzzlin' strait<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk o' the twa to cleek wi'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's sonsy James, wha wears a wig,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A widower fresh and canty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though turn'd o' sixty, gaes fu' trig,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's rich, and rowes in plenty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tam 's twenty-five, hauds James's pleugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lad deserves regardin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's clever, decent, sober too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he 's no worth ae fardin'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_96" id="vol2Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Auld James, 'tis true, I downa see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But 's cash will answer a' things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a lady pleases me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And buskit be wi' braw things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tam I esteem, like him there 's few,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His gait and looks entice me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, aunty, I 'll now trust in you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fix as ye advise me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then aunt, wha spun, laid down her roke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' thus repliet to Mary:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unequal matches in a yoke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Draw thrawart and camstrarie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since gentle James ye dinna like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi 's gear ha'e nae connexion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tam 's like yoursel', the bargain strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grup to him wi' affection.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_FORLORN_SHEPHERD68" id="vol2THE_FORLORN_SHEPHERD68"></a>THE FORLORN SHEPHERD.<a name="vol2FNanchor_68_68" id="vol2FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Banks of the Dee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For victims wha 're doom'd sair affliction to dree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If a heart-broken lover, despairin' an' wailin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Claim pity, your pity let fa' upon me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like you I was blest with content, an' was cheerie,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My pipe wont to play to the cantiest glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When smilin' an' kind was my Mary, sweet Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Mary was guileless, an' faithfu' to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_97" id="vol2Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She promised, she vow'd, she wad be my half-marrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day too was set, when our bridal should be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How happy was I, but I tell you wi' sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's perjured hersel', ah! an' ruined me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Ned o' Shawneuk, wi' the charms o' his riches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sly winnin' tales, tauld sae pawky an' slee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her han' has obtain'd, an' clad her like a duchess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae baith skaith an' scorn ha'e come down upon me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye braes ance enchantin', o' you I 'm now wearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' thou, ance dear haunt, 'neath the aul' thornie tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in rapture I sat an' dawtit fause Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fareweel! ye 'll never be seen mair by me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa' as a pilgrim, far distant I 'll wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mang faces unkent, till the day that I dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye shepherds, adieu! but tell Mary to ponder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To think on her vows, an' to think upon me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_98" id="vol2Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JOHN_ROBERTSON" id="vol2JOHN_ROBERTSON"></a>JOHN ROBERTSON.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_99" id="vol2Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_TOOM_MEAL_POCK" id="vol2THE_TOOM_MEAL_POCK"></a>THE TOOM MEAL POCK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Preserve us a'! what shall we do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thir dark, unhallow'd times;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 're surely dreeing penance now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For some most awfu' crimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sedition daurna now appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In reality or joke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ilka chiel maun mourn wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' a hinging, toom meal pock,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When lasses braw gaed out at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For sport and pastime free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem'd like ane in paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moments quick did flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Venuses they all appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weel pouther'd were their locks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas easy dune, when at their hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the shaking o' their pocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy pass'd my former days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' merry heartsome glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When smiling Fortune held the cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Peace sat on my knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae wants had I but were supplied;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart wi' joy did knock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the neuk I smiling saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gaucie, weel-fill'd pock.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_100" id="vol2Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speak no ae word about reform,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor petition Parliament;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wiser scheme I 'll now propose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm sure ye 'll gi'e consent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send up a chiel or twa like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a sample o' the flock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hollow cheeks will be sure proof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' a hinging, toom meal pock.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And should a sicht sae ghastly-like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' rags, and banes, and skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae nae impression on yon folks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But tell ye 'll stand ahin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O what a contrast will ye shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the glowrin' Lunnun folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in St James' ye tak' your stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a hinging, toom meal pock.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rear your head, and glowr, and stare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before yon hills o' beef;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them ye are frae Scotland come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Scotia's relief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them ye are the vera best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waled frae the fattest flock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then raise your arms, and oh! display<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hinging, toom meal pock.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sing, Oh waes me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_101" id="vol2Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ALEXANDER_BALFOUR" id="vol2ALEXANDER_BALFOUR"></a>ALEXANDER BALFOUR.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>British Chronicle</i> newspaper, and <i>The Bee</i>, +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 depend<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_102" id="vol2Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>ance, 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 +<i>Scots Magazine</i> he had long been a contributor; and, on the +establishment of <i>Constable's Edinburgh Magazine</i> in its stead, his +assistance was secured by Mr Thomas Pringle, the original editor. His +articles, contributed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_103" id="vol2Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_104" id="vol2Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BONNY_LASS_O_LEVEN_WATER" id="vol2THE_BONNY_LASS_O_LEVEN_WATER"></a>THE BONNY LASS O' LEVEN WATER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though siller Tweed rin o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' dark the Dee 'mang Highland heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet siller Tweed an' drumly Dee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are not sae dear as Leven Water:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Nature form'd our favourite isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a' her sweets began to scatter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd with fond approving smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alang the banks o' Leven Water.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On flowery braes, at gloamin' gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis sweet to scent the primrose springin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or through the woodlands green to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ilka buss the mavis singin':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter than the woodlands green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or primrose painted fair by Nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is she wha smiles, a rural queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonny lass o' Leven Water!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunbeam in the siller dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hangs upon the hawthorn's blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines faint beside her e'en sae blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' purer is her spotless bosom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smile wad thaw a hermit's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's love an' truth in ilka feature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her I 'm past baith wark an' rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonny lass o' Leven Water!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I 'm a lad o' laigh degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her purse-proud daddy 's dour an' saucy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sair the carle wad scowl on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For speakin' to his dawtit lassie:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_105" id="vol2Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But were I laird o' Leven's glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' she a humble shepherd's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd kneel, an' court her for my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonny lass o' Leven Water!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SLIGHTED_LOVE" id="vol2SLIGHTED_LOVE"></a>SLIGHTED LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rosebud blushing to the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sna'-white flower that scents the thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on thy gentle bosom worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were ne'er sae fair as thee, Mary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blest was I, a little while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deem that bosom free frae guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, fondly sighing, thou wouldst smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, sweetly smile on me, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though gear was scant, an' friends were few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart was leal, my love was true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blest your e'en of heavenly blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glanced sae saft on me, Mary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wealth has won your heart frae me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I maun ever think of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May a' the bliss that gowd can gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever wait on thee, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For me, nae mair on earth I crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that yon drooping willow wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its branches o'er my early grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgot by love, an' thee, Mary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when that hallow'd spot you tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where wild-flowers bloom above my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O look not on my grassy bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest thou shouldst sigh for me, Mary!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_106" id="vol2Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2GEORGE_MACINDOE" id="vol2GEORGE_MACINDOE"></a>GEORGE MACINDOE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Macindoe was possessed of a lively temperament, and his conversation +sparkled with wit and anecdote. His person was handsome, and his open +manly countenance<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_107" id="vol2Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_69_69" id="vol2FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>"<i>June 1, 1855.</i>" </p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_108" id="vol2Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CHEESE_AND_WHISKY" id="vol2CHEESE_AND_WHISKY"></a>CHEESE AND WHISKY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The gude forgi' me for leein'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Bachelor Willie I 'm seeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feast upon whisky, and cheese o' ewe milk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ne'er was choked for leeing, for leeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ne'er was choked for leeing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your jams and your jellies, your sugars and teas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er I thought worthy the preeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared wi' gude whisky, and kebbocks o' cheese,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May I sup porridge for leeing, for leeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May I sup porridge for leeing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When patfou's o' kale, thick wi' barley and pease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can as weel keep a body frae deeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As stoupfou's o' whisky, and platefou's o' cheese,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing, for leeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tho' the house where we 're sittin' were a' in a bleeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never could think about fleeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But would guzzle the whisky, and rive at the cheese;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing, I 'm leeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_109" id="vol2Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BURN_TROUT" id="vol2THE_BURN_TROUT"></a>THE BURN TROUT.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The gude forgi' me for leein'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brither Jamie cam west, wi' a braw burn trout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' speer'd how acquaintance were greeing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He brought it frae Peebles, tied up in a clout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' said it wad just be a preeing, a preeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' said it wad just be a preeing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the burn that rins by his grandmother's door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This trout had lang been a dweller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae night fell asleep a wee piece frae the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller, the miller,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This trout it was gutted an' dried on a nail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That grannie had reested her ham on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel rubbed wi' saut, frae the head to the tail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon, a sa'mon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This trout it was boil'd an' set ben on a plate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae fewer than ten made a feast o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banes and the tail, they were gi'en to the cat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we lickit our lips at the rest o't, the rest o't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we lickit our lips at the rest o't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When this trout it was eaten, we were a' like to rive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae ye maunna think it was a wee ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ilk trout in the burn grow muckle an' thrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing, a preeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_110" id="vol2Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ALEXANDER_DOUGLAS" id="vol2ALEXANDER_DOUGLAS"></a>ALEXANDER DOUGLAS.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_111" id="vol2Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_112" id="vol2Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2FIFE_AN_A_THE_LAND_ABOUT_IT70" id="vol2FIFE_AN_A_THE_LAND_ABOUT_IT70"></a>FIFE, AN' A' THE LAND ABOUT IT.<a name="vol2FNanchor_70_70" id="vol2FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Roy's Wife o' Aldivalloch."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May health, an' peace, an' plenty glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll raise the song on highest key,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through every grove till echo shout it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet enchantin' theme shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her braid an' lang extended vales<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are clad wi' corn, a' wavin' yellow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her flocks an' herds crown a' her hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her woods resound wi' music mellow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her waters pastime sweet afford<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ane an' a' wha like to angle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seats o' mony a laird an' lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her plains, as stars the sky, bespangle.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In ilka town an' village gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark! Thrift, her wheel an' loom are usin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While to an' frae each port an' bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See wealthy Commerce briskly cruisin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_113" id="vol2Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her maids are frugal, modest, fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As lilies by her burnies growin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ilka swain may here repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whase heart wi' virt'ous love is glowin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In peace, her sons like lammies mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are lightsome, friendly, an' engagin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In war, they 're loyal, bauld, an' wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As lions roused, an' fiercely ragin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May auld an' young hae meat an' claes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May wark an' wages aye be plenty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' may the sun to latest days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See Fife an' a' her bairnies canty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fife, an' a' the land about it;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May health, an' peace, an' plenty glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fair Fife, an' a' the land about it.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_114" id="vol2Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2WILLIAM_MLAREN" id="vol2WILLIAM_MLAREN"></a>WILLIAM M'LAREN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>éloge</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_115" id="vol2Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_71_71" id="vol2FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_116" id="vol2Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2NOW_SUMMER_SHINES_WITH_GAUDY_PRIDE" id="vol2NOW_SUMMER_SHINES_WITH_GAUDY_PRIDE"></a>NOW SUMMER SHINES WITH GAUDY PRIDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now summer shines with gaudy pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By flowery vale and mountain side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shepherds waste the sunny hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By cooling streams, and bushy bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I, a victim to despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avoid the sun's offensive glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in sequester'd wilds deplore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The perjured vows of Ella More.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would Fate my injured heart provide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some cave beyond the mountain tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some spot where scornful Beauty's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er waked the ardent lover's sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd there to woods and rocks complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rocks that skirt the angry main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For angry main, and rocky shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are kinder far than Ella More.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2AND_DOST_THOU_SPEAK_SINCERE_MY_LOVE" id="vol2AND_DOST_THOU_SPEAK_SINCERE_MY_LOVE"></a>AND DOST THOU SPEAK SINCERE, MY LOVE?</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Lord Gregory."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dost thou speak sincere, my love?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And must we ever part?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dost thou unrelenting see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The anguish of my heart?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_117" id="vol2Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Have e'er these doating eyes of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One wandering wish express'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No; thou alone hast ever been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Companion of my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw thy face, angelic fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought thy form divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought thy love—I gave my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hoped to conquer thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! delusive, cruel hope!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope now for ever gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Mary keeps the heart I gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But with it keeps her own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When many smiling summer suns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their silver light has shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wrinkled age her hoary hairs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waves lightly o'er my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even then, in life's declining hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart will fondly trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauties of thy lovely form,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweetly smiling face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SAY_NOT_THE_BARD_HAS_TURND_OLD" id="vol2SAY_NOT_THE_BARD_HAS_TURND_OLD"></a>SAY NOT THE BARD HAS TURN'D OLD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the winter of age wreathes her snow on his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blooming effulgence of summer has fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the voice, that was sweet as the harp's softest string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be trem'lous, and low as the zephyrs of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_118" id="vol2Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the casket that holds the rich jewel we prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attracts not the gaze of inquisitive eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the gem that 's within may be lovely and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the smiles of the morn, or the stars of the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the tapers burn clear, and the goblet shines bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hall of his chief, on a festival night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have smiled at the glance of his rapturous eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the brim of the goblet laugh'd back in reply;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When he sings of the valorous deeds that were done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his clan or his chief, in the days that are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His strains then are various—now rapid, now slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he mourns for the dead or exults o'er the foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When summer in gaudy profusion is dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dew-drop hangs clear on the violet's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I list with delight to his rapturous strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the borrowing echo returns it again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not summer's profusion alone can inspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul in the song, or his hand on the lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rapid his numbers and wilder they flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wintry winds rave o'er his mountains of snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have seen him elate when the black clouds were riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terrific and wild, by the thunder of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smile at the billows that angrily rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incessant and deep o'er the mariner's grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say not the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_119" id="vol2Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the eye that expresses the warmth of his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fail the benevolent wish to impart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his blood shall be cold as the wintry wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silent his harp as the gloom of the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then say that the Bard has turn'd old.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_120" id="vol2Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2HAMILTON_PAUL" id="vol2HAMILTON_PAUL"></a>HAMILTON PAUL.</h2> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Maria, now the maid of heavenly charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decreed to bliss the youthful monarch's arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inflames Augustus with unwonted fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his breast awakens new desires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In love a novice, while his bosom glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With restless heat, the cause he scarcely knows;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_121" id="vol2Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The rural pastimes suited to his age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His late delight, no more his care engage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more he wills to give his steed the reins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In eager chase, and urge him o'er the plains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more he joys to bend the twanging bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hurl the javeline, or the dart to throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His alter'd thoughts to other objects rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wounds inflicted by the god of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft, expressive of the inward smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did groans convulsive issue from his heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft did blushes own the sacred flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft his hand unbidden wrote her name!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now presents worthy of the plighted fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nuptial robes his busy train prepare—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robes wherewith Livia was herself attired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those bright dames that to the beds aspired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of emperors. Yet the celestial maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Requires no earthly ornamental aid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give her faultless form a single grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or add one charm to her bewitching face."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Loud shriek'd afar the angry sprite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rode upon the storm of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud the waves were heard to roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lash'd on Jura's rocky shore."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_122" id="vol2Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Glassy Jordan, smooth meandering<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Jacob's grassy meads between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! thy waters, gently wandering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lave thy valleys rich and green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the winter, keenly show'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strips fair Salem's holy shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thy current, broader flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lingers 'mid the leafless glade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When, O! when shall light returning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gild the melancholy gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the golden star of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Jordan's solemn vault illume?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When shall Freedom's holy charmer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cheer my long benighted soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall Israel, proud in armour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Burst the tyrant's base control?" &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"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 +Choephorœ of Æschylus. I dreamt a dream about your being before +Parnassus upon your trial for sedition and contumacy. I thought Thalia, +Clio, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_123" id="vol2Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>&c. addressed you. Their speeches shall be nonsensified into +rhyme, and shall be part of some other scrawl from your affectionate +friend,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +"<span class="smcap">Thomas the Hermit.</span>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_72_72" id="vol2FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> "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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_124" id="vol2Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Ayr Advertiser</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_125" id="vol2Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> 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 +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, conducted by Professor Wilson, was severely +censured by Dr Andrew Thomson in the <i>Christian Instructor</i>.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_73_73" id="vol2FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> Of +his numerous poetical compositions each was the work of a sitting, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_126" id="vol2Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +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 +<i>bon-mot</i> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To invite the wanderer to the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spread the couch of rest."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_127" id="vol2Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_128" id="vol2Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2HELEN_GRAY" id="vol2HELEN_GRAY"></a>HELEN GRAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair are the fleecy flocks that feed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On yonder heath-clad hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where wild meandering crystal Tweed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Collects his glassy rills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet the buds that scent the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deck the breast of May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none of these are sweet or fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Compared to Helen Gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You see in Helen's face so mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in her bashful mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winning softness of the child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blushes of fifteen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The witching smile, when prone to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arrests me, bids me stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor joy, nor comfort can I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When 'reft of Helen Gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I little thought the dark-brown moors,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dusky mountain's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down which the wasting torrent pours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conceal'd so sweet a maid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sudden started from the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sylvan scene and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, pride of all the virgin train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I first saw Helen Gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May never Envy's venom'd breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blight thee, thou tender flower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may thy head ne'er droop beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Affliction's chilling shower!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_129" id="vol2Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though I, the victim of distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must wander far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, till my dying hour, I 'll bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The name of Helen Gray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_OF_BARR" id="vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_OF_BARR"></a>THE BONNIE LASS OF BARR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of streams that down the valley run,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or through the meadow glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or glitter to the summer sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Stinshar<a name="vol2FNanchor_74_74" id="vol2FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> is the pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not his banks of verdant hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though famed they be afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grassy hill, nor mountain blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor flower bedropt with diamond dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis she that chiefly charms the view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Barr.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When rose the lark on early wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vernal tide to hail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When daisies deck'd the breast of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sought her native vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beam that gilds the evening sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brighter morning star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells the king of day is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mimic splendour vainly try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reach the lustre of thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou bonnie lass of Barr.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_130" id="vol2Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun behind yon misty isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did sweetly set yestreen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not his parting dewy smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could match the smile of Jean.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom swell'd with gentle woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine strove with tender war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Stinshar's banks, while wild-woods grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While rivers to the ocean flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love of thee my heart shall glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou bonnie lass of Barr.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_131" id="vol2Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ROBERT_TANNAHILL" id="vol2ROBERT_TANNAHILL"></a>ROBERT TANNAHILL.</h2> + +<p>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."<a name="vol2FNanchor_75_75" id="vol2FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wi' girnin' and chirmin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His days they hae been spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ither folk right thankfu' spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He never was content."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Along with poetry Tannahill early cultivated the kin<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_132" id="vol2Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>dred 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_133" id="vol2Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> 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!"</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_134" id="vol2Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +"<i>Bob</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_135" id="vol2Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_76_76" id="vol2FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_136" id="vol2Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JESSIE_THE_FLOWER_O_DUMBLANE77"></a>JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloamin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's modest as ony, and blithe as she 's bonny;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far be the villain, divested of feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha 'd blight, in its bloom, the sweet flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_137" id="vol2Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till charm'd with sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst its profusion I 'd languish in pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LOUDOUNS_BONNIE_WOODS_AND_BRAES78"></a>LOUDOUN'S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES.<a name="vol2FNanchor_78_78" id="vol2FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lord Moira's Welcome to Scotland."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I maun lea' them a', lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha can thole when Britain's faes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wald gi'e Britons law, lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha would shun the field of danger?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha frae fame wad live a stranger?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now when Freedom bids avenge her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha would shun her ca', lassie?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_138" id="vol2Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae seen our happy bridal days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle Hope shall soothe thy waes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I am far awa', lassie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hark! the swelling bugle sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yielding joy to thee, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the dolefu' bugle brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lanely I may climb the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lanely stray beside the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the weary moments countin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far frae love, and thee, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the gory fields of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Vengeance drives his crimson car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt maybe fa', frae me afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nane to close thy e'e, laddie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! resume thy wonted smile!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O! suppress thy fears, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glorious honour crowns the toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the soldier shares, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven will shield thy faithful lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the vengeful strife is over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'll meet nae mair to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the day we die, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst our bonnie woods and braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll spend our peaceful, happy days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As blithe 's yon lightsome lamb that plays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Loudoun's flowery lea, lassie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_139" id="vol2Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LASS_O_ARRANTEENIE79" id="vol2THE_LASS_O_ARRANTEENIE79"></a>THE LASS O' ARRANTEENIE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_79_79" id="vol2FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far lone amang the Highland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Midst Nature's wildest grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By rocky dens, and woody glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With weary steps I wander.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The langsome way, the darksome day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain mist sae rainy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are nought to me when gaun to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet lass o' Arranteenie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon mossy rosebud down the howe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just op'ning fresh and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinks sweetly 'neath the hazel bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And 's scarcely seen by ony;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae, sweet amidst her native hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Obscurely blooms my Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair fair and gay than rosy May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flower o' Arranteenie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, from the mountain's lofty brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I view the distant ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Av'rice guides the bounding prow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition courts promotion:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Fortune pour her golden store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her laurell'd favours many;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me but this, my soul's first wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lass o' Arranteenie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_140" id="vol2Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2YON_BURN_SIDE80" id="vol2YON_BURN_SIDE80"></a>YON BURN SIDE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_80_80" id="vol2FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Brier-bush."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bushes form a cosie den, on yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though the broomy knowes be green,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And there we may be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet we 'll meet—we 'll meet at e'en down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll lead you to the birken bower, on yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sweetly wove wi' woodbine flower, on yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There the busy prying eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ne'er disturbs the lovers' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in ither's arms they lie, down by yon burn side,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_141" id="vol2Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Awa', ye rude, unfeeling crew, frae yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fairy scenes are no for you, by yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There fancy smoothes her theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By the sweetly murm'ring stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rock-lodged echoes skim, down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the plantin' taps are tinged wi' goud, on yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gloamin' draws her foggy shroud o'er yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Far frae the noisy scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I 'll through the fields alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There we 'll meet, my ain dear Jean, down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BRAES_O_GLENIFFER81" id="vol2THE_BRAES_O_GLENIFFER81"></a>THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.<a name="vol2FNanchor_81_81" id="vol2FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonny Dundee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the broom bushes by Stanley-green shaw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild flowers o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now it is winter wi' nature and me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_142" id="vol2Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis no its loud roar on the wintry winds swellin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, O, gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dark days o' winter were summer to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THROUGH_CROCKSTON_CASTLES_LANELY_WAS82" id="vol2THROUGH_CROCKSTON_CASTLES_LANELY_WAS82"></a>THROUGH CROCKSTON CASTLE'S LANELY WA'S.<a name="vol2FNanchor_82_82" id="vol2FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Crockston Castle."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wintry wind howls wild and dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though mirk the cheerless e'ening fa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet I hae vow'd to meet my Mary.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_143" id="vol2Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, Mary, though the winds should rave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' jealous spite to keep me frae thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkest stormy night I 'd brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud o'er Cardonald's rocky steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rude Cartha pours in boundless measure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will ford the whirling deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That roars between me and my treasure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, Mary, though the torrent rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' jealous spite, to keep me frae thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its deepest flood I 'd bauldly brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The watch-dog's howling loads the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And makes the nightly wand'rer eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the lonesome way is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll to this bosom clasp my Mary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, Mary, though stern winter rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a' his storms, to keep me frae thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wildest dreary night I 'd brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BRAES_O_BALQUHITHER83" id="vol2THE_BRAES_O_BALQUHITHER83"></a>THE BRAES O' BALQUHITHER.<a name="vol2FNanchor_83_83" id="vol2FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Three Carls o' Buchanan."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us go, lassie, go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the braes o' Balquhither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the blaeberries grow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mang the bonnie Highland heather;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_144" id="vol2Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where the deer and the rae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightly bounding together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sport the lang summer day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the braes o' Balquhither.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will twine thee a bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the clear siller fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll cover it o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the flowers o' the mountain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will range through the wilds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the deep glens sae dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And return wi' their spoils<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the bower o' my dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the rude wintry win'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Idly raves round our dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the roar of the linn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the night breeze is swelling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So merrily we 'll sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the storm rattles o'er us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the dear sheiling ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the light lilting chorus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the summer is in prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild mountain thyme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' the moorlands perfuming;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_145" id="vol2Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To our dear native scenes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us journey together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where glad innocence reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GLOOMY_WINTER_S_NOW_AWA" id="vol2GLOOMY_WINTER_S_NOW_AWA"></a>GLOOMY WINTER 'S NOW AWA'.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lord Balgonie's Favourite."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gloomy winter 's now awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saft the westling breezes blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang the birks of Stanley-shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mavis sings fu' cheery, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet the crawflower's early bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooming like thy bonny sel',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My young, my artless dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, my lassie, let us stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithely spend the gowden day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Midst joys that never weary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towering o'er the Newton woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laverocks fan the snaw-white clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Siller saughs, wi' downy buds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adorn the banks sae briery, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Round the sylvan fairy nooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the brae the burnie jouks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ilka thing is cheery, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_146" id="vol2Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Trees may bud, and birds may sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy to me they canna bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless wi' thee, my dearie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_ARE_YE_SLEEPING_MAGGIE" id="vol2O_ARE_YE_SLEEPING_MAGGIE"></a>O! ARE YE SLEEPING, MAGGIE?</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Sleepy Maggie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">O! Are ye sleeping, Maggie?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Let me in, for loud the linn<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Is roaring o'er the warlock craigie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mirk and rainy is the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No a starn in a' the carry;<a name="vol2FNanchor_84_84" id="vol2FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And winds drive wi' winter's fury.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fearful soughs the bourtree bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rifted wood roars wild and dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud the iron yate does clank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cry of howlets makes me eerie.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aboon my breath I daurna' speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld 's the blast upon my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O rise, rise, my bonny lady!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O! are ye sleeping, Maggie? &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_147" id="vol2Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She opt the door, she let him in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since, Maggie, now I 'm in aside ye."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Now, since ye 're waking, Maggie!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Now, since ye 're waking, Maggie!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What care I for howlet's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For bourtree bank, or warlock craigie?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2NOW_WINTER_WI_HIS_CLOUDY_BROW" id="vol2NOW_WINTER_WI_HIS_CLOUDY_BROW"></a>NOW WINTER, WI' HIS CLOUDY BROW.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Forneth House."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Winter, wi' his cloudy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is far ayont yon mountains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Spring beholds her azure sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reflected in the fountains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, on the budding slaethorn bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She spreads her early blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wooes the mirly-breasted birds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To nestle in her bosom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lately a' was clad wi' snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae darksome, dull, and dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now laverocks sing to hail the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Nature all is cheery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let us leave the town, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seek our country dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where waving woods, and spreading flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On every side are smiling.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_148" id="vol2Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll tread again the daisied green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where first your beauty moved me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll trace again the woodland scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where first ye own'd ye loved me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We soon will view the roses blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a' the charms of fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For doubly dear these pleasures a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shared with thee, my Nancy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_DEAR_HIGHLAND_LADDIE_O" id="vol2THE_DEAR_HIGHLAND_LADDIE_O"></a>THE DEAR HIGHLAND LADDIE, O!</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Gaelic Air</span>—<i>"Mor nian à Ghibarlan."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blithe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy were the days when we herded thegither, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet were the hours when he row'd me in his plaidie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vow'd to be mine, my dear Highland laddie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, ah! waes me! wi' their sodgering sae gaudy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laird's wys'd awa my braw Highland laddie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misty are the glens, and the dark hills sae cloudy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aye seem'd sae blythe wi' my dear Highland laddie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blaeberry banks now are lonesome and dreary, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Muddy are the streams that gush'd down sae clearly, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild melting strains o' my dear Highland laddie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He pu'd me the crawberry, ripe frae the boggy fen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He pu'd me the strawberry, red frae the foggy glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He pu'd me the row'n frae the wild steeps sae giddy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae loving and kind was my dear Highland laddie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_149" id="vol2Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, my ewes, and fareweel, my doggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, ye knowes, now sae cheerless and scroggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, Glenfeoch, my mammy and my daddie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will leave you a' for my dear Highland laddie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_MIDGES_DANCE_ABOON_THE_BURN" id="vol2THE_MIDGES_DANCE_ABOON_THE_BURN"></a>THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Shepherd's Son."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The midges dance aboon the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dews begin to fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pairtricks down the rushy holm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set up their e'ening ca'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now loud and clear the blackbirds' sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rings through the briery shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While flitting, gay, the swallows play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the castle wa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath the golden gloamin' sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mavis mends her lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The redbreast pours his sweetest strains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To charm the ling'ring day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While weary yeldrins seem to wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their little nestlings torn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merry wren, frae den to den,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gaes jinking through the thorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The roses fauld their silken leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foxglove shuts its bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The honeysuckle and the birk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread fragrance through the dell<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_150" id="vol2Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let others crowd the giddy court<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mirth and revelry—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simple joys that Nature yields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are dearer far to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BARROCHAN_JEAN85" id="vol2BARROCHAN_JEAN85"></a>BARROCHAN JEAN.<a name="vol2FNanchor_85_85" id="vol2FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Johnnie M'Gill."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How death and starvation came o'er the hail nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She wrought sic mischief wi' her twa pawky e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lads and the lasses were deeing in dizzins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tane kill'd wi' love and the tither wi' spleen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ploughing, the sawing, the shearing, the mawing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' wark was forgotten for Barrochan Jean!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Frae the south and the north, o'er the Tweed and the Forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic coming and ganging there never was seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The comers were cheerie, the gangers were blearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Despairing or hoping for Barrochan Jean!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The carlines at hame were a' girning and graning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bairns were a' greeting frae morning till e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gat naething for crowdy, but runts boil'd to sowdie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For naething gat growing for Barrochan Jean!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_151" id="vol2Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The doctors declared it was past their descriving,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ministers said 'twas a judgment for sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they lookit sae blae, and their hearts were sae wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I was sure they were deeing for Barrochan Jean!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The burns on road-sides were a' dry wi' their drinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet a' wadna slockin' the drouth i' their skin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' around the peat-stacks, and alangst the dyke-backs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en the winds were a' sighing, "Sweet Barrochan Jean!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The timmer ran done wi' the making o' coffins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kirkyards o' their sward were a' howkit fu' clean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead lovers were packit like herring in barrels,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic thousands were deeing for Barrochan Jean!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But mony braw thanks to the Laird o' Glen Brodie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grass owre their graffs is now bonnie and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sta' the proud heart of our wanton young lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spoil'd a' the charm o' her twa pawky e'en.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_ROW_THEE_IN_MY_HIGHLAND_PLAID" id="vol2O_ROW_THEE_IN_MY_HIGHLAND_PLAID"></a>O, ROW THEE IN MY HIGHLAND PLAID!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowland lassie, wilt thou go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hills are clad with snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, beneath the icy steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hardy shepherd tends his sheep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ill nor wae shall thee betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When row'd within my Highland plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon the voice of cheery spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will gar a' our plantin's ring,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_152" id="vol2Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Soon our bonny heather braes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will put on their summer claes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain's sunny side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll lean us on my Highland plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the summer spreads the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Busks the glens in leafy bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'll seek the caller shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean us on the primrose bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the burning hours preside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then we 'll leave the sheep and goat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will launch the bonny boat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skim the loch in canty glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest the oars to pleasure thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When chilly breezes sweep the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowland lads may dress mair fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woo in words mair saft than mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowland lads hae mair of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' my boast 's an honest heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilk shall ever be my pride;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, row thee in my Highland plaid!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bonny lad, ye 've been sae leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart would break at our fareweel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang your love has made me fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take me—take me for your ain!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the Firth, away they glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Donald and his Lowland bride.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_153" id="vol2Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BONNY_WOOD_OF_CRAIGIE_LEA86" id="vol2BONNY_WOOD_OF_CRAIGIE_LEA86"></a>BONNY WOOD OF CRAIGIE LEA.<a name="vol2FNanchor_86_86" id="vol2FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Near thee I pass'd life's early day,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And won my Mary's heart in thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The broom, the brier, the birken bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bloom bonny o'er thy flowery lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the sweets that ane can wish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Nature's hand, are strew'd on thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far ben thy dark green plantin's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cooshat croodles am'rously,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mavis, down thy bughted glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gars echo ring frae every tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny wood, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awa, ye thoughtless, murd'ring gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 'll sing you yet a canty sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, O, in pity, let them be!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny woods, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When winter blaws in sleety showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae aff the norlan' hills sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lightly skiffs thy bonny bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As laith to harm a flower in thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny wood, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_154" id="vol2Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though Fate should drag me south the line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or o'er the wide Atlantic sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happy hours I 'll ever mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I, in youth, hae spent in thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou bonny wood, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY87" id="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY87"></a>GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY.<a name="vol2FNanchor_87_87" id="vol2FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Good night, and joy be wi' you a'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weary sun 's gaen down the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds sit nodding on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature now prepares for rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But rest prepared there 's none for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trumpet sounds to war's alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The drums they beat, the fifes they play,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, Mary, cheer me wi' thy charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the morn I will be far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Good night, and joy—good night, and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Good night, and joy be wi' you a';<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For since its so that I must go,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Good night, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I grieve to leave my comrades dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I mourn to leave my native shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leave my aged parents here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the bonnie lass whom I adore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tender thoughts maun now be hush'd,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_155" id="vol2Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When danger calls I must obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The transport waits us on the coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the morn I will be far away.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Good night, and joy, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu, dear Scotia's sea-beat coast!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though bleak and drear thy mountains be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the heaving ocean tost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll cast a wishful look to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, dear Mary, fare thee well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May Providence thy guardian be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in the camp, or on the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll heave a sigh, and think on thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Good night, and joy, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_156" id="vol2Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2HENRY_DUNCAN_DD" id="vol2HENRY_DUNCAN_DD"></a>HENRY DUNCAN, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_157" id="vol2Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_158" id="vol2Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> 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 <i>Savings' Banks</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 +origin<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_159" id="vol2Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>ally contributed to this series, was afterwards published +separately, and commanded a wide circulation. In 1809, Dr Duncan +originated the <i>Dumfries and Galloway Courier</i>, 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 <i>Edinburgh Encyclopædia</i>. 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 <i>Dumfries +Courier</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_160" id="vol2Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_161" id="vol2Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CURLING_SONG" id="vol2CURLING_SONG"></a>CURLING SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The music o' the year is hush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bonny glen and shaw, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winter spreads o'er nature dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A winding sheet o' snaw, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er burn and loch, the warlike frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A crystal brig has laid, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild geese screaming wi' surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ice-bound wave ha'e fled, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up, curler, frae your bed sae warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave your coaxing wife, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae get your besom, tramps and stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And join the friendly strife, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on the water's face are met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' mony a merry joke, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tenant and his jolly laird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pastor and his flock, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rink is swept, the tees are mark'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonspiel is begun, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice is true, the stanes are keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Huzza for glorious fun, man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The skips are standing at the tee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To guide the eager game, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush, not a word, but mark the broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tak' a steady aim, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There draw a shot, there lay a guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And here beside him lie, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now let him feel a gamester's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now in his bosom die, man;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_162" id="vol2Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then fill the port, and block the ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We sit upon the tee, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now tak' this in-ring, sharp and neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak' their winner flee, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How stands the game? Its eight and eight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now for the winning shot, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draw slow and sure, and tak' your aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll sweep you to the spot, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stane is thrown, it glides along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The besoms ply it in, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' twisting back the player stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eager breathless grin, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A moment's silence, still as death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pervades the anxious thrang, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sudden bursts the victor's shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With holla's loud and lang, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant besom's wave in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And friendly banters fly, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst, cold and hungry, to the inn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' eager steps they hie, man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now fill ae bumper, fill but ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drink wi' social glee, man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May curlers on life's slippery rink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae cruel rubs be free, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or should a treacherous bias lead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their erring course ajee, man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some friendly in-ring may they meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To guide them to the tee, man.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_163" id="vol2Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ON_THE_GREEN_SWARD88" id="vol2ON_THE_GREEN_SWARD88"></a>ON THE GREEN SWARD.<a name="vol2FNanchor_88_88" id="vol2FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Arniston House."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the green sward lay William, in anguish extended,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soothe and to cheer him his Mary stood near him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But despair in the cup of his sorrows was blended,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, inwardly groaning, he wildly exclaim'd—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah! look not so fondly, thou peerless in beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away, I beseech thee, no comfort can reach me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A martyr to love, or a traitor to duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My pleasure is sorrow, my hope is despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Once the visions of fancy shone bright and attractive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like distant scenes blooming which sunbeams illumine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love pointed to wealth, and, no longer inactive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I labour'd till midnight, and rose with the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But the day-dreams of pleasure have fled me for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Misfortune surrounds me, oppression confounds me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hope to support, and no friend to deliver,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor and wretched, alas! I must ever remain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And thou, my soul's treasure, whilst pitying my anguish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New poison does mix in my cup of affliction,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For honour forbids (though without thee I languish)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make thee a partner of sorrow and want."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_164" id="vol2Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear William," she cried, "I 'll no longer deceive thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I honour thy merit, I love thy proud spirit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well thou art tried, and if wealth can relieve thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My portion is ample—that portion is thine."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_RUTHWELL_VOLUNTEERS89" id="vol2THE_RUTHWELL_VOLUNTEERS89"></a>THE RUTHWELL VOLUNTEERS.<a name="vol2FNanchor_89_89" id="vol2FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! the martial drums resound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Valiant brothers, welcome all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowd the royal standard round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis your injured country's call.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">See, see, the robbers come,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ruin seize the ruthless foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For your altars, for your homes,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Heroes lay the tyrants low!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He whom dastard fears abash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He was born to be a slave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him feel the despot's lash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sink inglorious to the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">See, see, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who spurns a coward's life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He whose bosom freedom warms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him share the glorious strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll take the hero to our arms.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">See, see, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_165" id="vol2Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirits of the valiant dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who fought and bled at Freedom's call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the path you dared to tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We, your sons, will stand or fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">See, see, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bending from your airy halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turn on us a guardian eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead where Fame or Honour calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And teach to conquer or to die!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">See, see, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2EXILED_FAR_FROM_SCENES_OF_PLEASURE90" id="vol2EXILED_FAR_FROM_SCENES_OF_PLEASURE90"></a>EXILED FAR FROM SCENES OF PLEASURE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_90_90" id="vol2FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Blythe, Blythe and Merry was she."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Exiled far from scenes of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love sincere and friendship true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad I mark the moon's pale radiance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembling in the midnight dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sad and lonely, sad and lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Musing on the tints decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the maid I love so dearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on pleasure's fleeting day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright the moonbeams, when we parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark'd the solemn midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothing with a robe of silver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hill, and dale, and shady bower.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_166" id="vol2Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then our mutual faith we plighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vows of true love to repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely oft the pale orb watching,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At this hour to lovers sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On thy silent face, with fondness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me gaze, fair queen of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my Annie's tears of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sparkle in thy soften'd light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think my Annie views thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dearly do I love thy rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the distance that divides us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems to vanish as I gaze.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_ROOF_OF_STRAW" id="vol2THE_ROOF_OF_STRAW"></a>THE ROOF OF STRAW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ask no lordling's titled name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor miser's hoarded store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask to live with those I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Contented though I 'm poor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From joyless pomp and heartless mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I gladly will withdraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hide me in this lowly vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath my roof of straw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To hear my Nancy's lips pronounce<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A husband's cherish'd name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To press my children to my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are titles, wealth and fame.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_167" id="vol2Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let kings and conquerors delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hold the world in awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be mine to find content and peace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath my roof of straw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When round the winters' warm fireside<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We meet with social joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glance of love to every heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall speak from every eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More lovely far such such scenes of bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than monarch ever saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even angels might delight to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath my roof of straw.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THOU_KENST_MARY_HAY91" id="vol2THOU_KENST_MARY_HAY91"></a>THOU KEN'ST, MARY HAY.<a name="vol2FNanchor_91_91" id="vol2FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Bonny Mary Hay."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I loe thee weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain auld wife, sae canty and leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look aye sae wae, when thou look'st at me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dost thou miss, Mary Hay, the saft bloom o' my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hair curling round it, sae gentie and sleek?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the snaw 's on my head, and the roses are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since that day o' days I first ca'd thee my ain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_168" id="vol2Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But though, Mary Hay, my auld e'en be grown dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age, wi' its frost, maks cauld every limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, thou kens weel, has nae cauldness for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For simmer returns at the blink o' thine e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The miser hauds firmer and firmer his gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ivy sticks close to the tree, when its old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still thou grows't dearer to me, Mary Hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a' else turns eerie, and life wears away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We maun part, Mary Hay, when our journey is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'll meet thee again in the bricht world aboon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look aye sae wae when thou look'st at me?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_169" id="vol2Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ROBERT_ALLAN" id="vol2ROBERT_ALLAN"></a>ROBERT ALLAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_170" id="vol2Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> only +six days; he died at New York on the 1st June 1841.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_92_92" id="vol2FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_171" id="vol2Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_MY_SWEET_BETTY" id="vol2BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_MY_SWEET_BETTY"></a>BLINK OVER THE BURN, MY SWEET BETTY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blink over the burn, love, to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, lang hae I look'd, my dear Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To get but a blink o' thine e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds are a' sporting around us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweetly they sing on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the voice o' my bonny sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I trow, is far dearer to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ringlets, my lovely young Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wave o'er thy bonnie e'ebree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll twine wi' the flowers o' the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blossom sae sweetly, like thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come o'er the burn, my sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come over the burn, love, to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, sweet is the bliss, my dear Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live in the blink o' thine e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2COME_AWA_HIE_AWA" id="vol2COME_AWA_HIE_AWA"></a>COME AWA, HIE AWA.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Haud awa frae me, Donald."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Come awa, hie awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Come and be mine ain, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Row thee in my tartan plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">An' fear nae wintry rain, lassie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_172" id="vol2Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A gowden brooch, an' siller belt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' faithfu' heart I 'll gie, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ye will lea' your Lawland hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Highland hills wi' me, lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come awa, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bonnie bower shall be thy hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drest in silken sheen, lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll be the fairest in the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gayest on the green, lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come awa, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='center'>ANSWER.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Haud awa, bide awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Haud awa frae me, Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What care I for a' your wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And a' that ye can gie, Donald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wadna lea' my Lowland lad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' your gowd and gear, Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae tak' your plaid, an' o'er the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' stay nae langer here, Donald.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Haud awa, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Jamie is a gallant youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I lo'e but him alane, Donald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in bonnie Scotland's isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like him there is nane, Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Haud awa, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He wears nae plaid, or tartan hose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor garters at his knee, Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh, he wears a faithfu' heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love blinks in his e'e, Donald.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_173" id="vol2Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae haud awa, bide awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come nae mair at e'en, Donald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna break my Jamie's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be a Highland Queen, Donald.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ON_THEE_ELIZA_DWELL_MY_THOUGHTS" id="vol2ON_THEE_ELIZA_DWELL_MY_THOUGHTS"></a>ON THEE, ELIZA, DWELL MY THOUGHTS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"In yon garden fine and gay."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While straying was the moon's pale beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight, in my wand'ring sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see thy form in fancy's dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thee in the rosy morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Approach as loose-robed beauty's queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning smiles, but thou art lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too soon is fled the sylvan scene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still fancy fondly dwells on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And adds another day of care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What bliss were mine could fancy paint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee true, as she can paint thee fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O fly, ye dear deceitful dreams!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye silken cords that bind the heart;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canst thou, Eliza, these entwine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smile and triumph in the smart?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_174" id="vol2Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2TO_A_LINNET" id="vol2TO_A_LINNET"></a>TO A LINNET.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"M'Gilchrist's Lament."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Chaunt no more thy roundelay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lovely minstrel of the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charm no more the hours away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thine artless tale of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chaunt no more thy roundelay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sad it steals upon mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave, O leave thy leafy spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the smiling morn appear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Light of heart, thou quitt'st thy song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the welkin's shadows low'r;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst the beetle wheels along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Humming to the twilight hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not like thee I quit the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To enjoy night's balmy dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not like thee I wake again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling with the morning beam.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_PRIMROSE_IS_BONNY_IN_SPRING" id="vol2THE_PRIMROSE_IS_BONNY_IN_SPRING"></a>THE PRIMROSE IS BONNY IN SPRING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Banks of Eswal."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The primrose is bonnie in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose it is sweet in June;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's bonnie where leaves are green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I' the sunny afternoon.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_175" id="vol2Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +<span class="i0">It 's bonny when the sun gaes down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' glints on the hoary knowe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's bonnie to see the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae red in the dazzling lowe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the night is a' sae calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' comes the sweet twilight gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! it cheers my heart to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lassie amang the broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the birds in bush and brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do quit their blythe e'enin' sang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what an hour to sit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gay gowden links amang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_WOODHOUSELEE" id="vol2THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_WOODHOUSELEE"></a>THE BONNIE LASS O' WOODHOUSELEE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Hey the rantin' Murray's Ha'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter far on Woodhouselee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear I like his setting beam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For sake o' ane sae dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was na simmer's fairy scenes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a' their charming luxury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Beauty's sel' that won my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae winnin', was her witchin' smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae piercin', was her coal-black e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sairly wounded was my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That had na wist sic ills to dree;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_176" id="vol2Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In vain I strave in beauty's chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cou'd na keep my fancy free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gat my heart sae in her thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie knowes, sae yellow a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where aft is heard the hum of bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meadow green, and breezy hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lambkins sport sae merrilie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May charm the weary, wand'rin' swain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When e'enin' sun dips in the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' my heart, baith e'en and morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is wi' the lass o' Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers that kiss the wimplin' burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dew-clad gowans on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water-lily on the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are but sweet emblems a' of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while in simmer smiles they bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae lovely, and sae fair to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll woo their sweets, e'en for thy sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_SUN_IS_SETTING_ON_SWEET_GLENGARRY" id="vol2THE_SUN_IS_SETTING_ON_SWEET_GLENGARRY"></a>THE SUN IS SETTING ON SWEET GLENGARRY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bonnie lassie, ye maun be my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_177" id="vol2Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Doun yon glen ye never will weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie, ye maun be my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Birds are singing fu' blythe and cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie, on bank sae briery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In yonder glen there 's naething to fear ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye canna be sad, ye canna be eerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The water is wimpling by fu' clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! ye sall ever be my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2HER_HAIR_WAS_LIKE_THE_CROMLA_MIST" id="vol2HER_HAIR_WAS_LIKE_THE_CROMLA_MIST"></a>HER HAIR WAS LIKE THE CROMLA MIST.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Gaelic Air.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her hair was like the Cromla mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When evening sun beams from the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright was the eye of Morna;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When beauty wept the warrior's fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then low and dark was Fingal's hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sad was the lovely Morna.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_178" id="vol2Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! lovely was the blue-eyed maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sung peace to the warrior's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But none so fair as Morna.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hallow'd tears bedew'd the brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waved beside dark Orna's lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where wander'd lovely Morna.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sad was the hoary minstrel's song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That died the rustling heath among,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sat the lovely Morna;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It slumber'd on the placid wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It echoed through the warrior's cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sigh'd again to Morna.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hero's plumes were lowly laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Fingal's hall each blue-eyed maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sang peace and rest to Morna;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The harp's wild strain was past and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more it whisper'd to the moan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lovely, dying Morna.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2O_LEEZE_ME_ON_THE_BONNIE_LASS" id="vol2O_LEEZE_ME_ON_THE_BONNIE_LASS"></a>O LEEZE ME ON THE BONNIE LASS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Hodgart's Delight."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O leeze me on the bonnie lass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I lo'e best o' a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O leeze me on my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pride o' Lockershaw.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_179" id="vol2Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O weel I like my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For love blinks in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she has vow'd a solemn vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lo'es na ane but me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers grow bonnie on the bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where doun the waters fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds sing bonnie in the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where red, red roses blaw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' there, wi' blythe and lightsome heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When day has closed his e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wander wi' my Marion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha lo'es na ane but me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sic luve as mine an' Marion's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, may it never fa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blume aye like the fairest flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That grows in Lockershaw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Marion I will ne'er forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until the day I dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she has vow'd a solemn vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lo'es na ane but me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2QUEEN_MARYS_ESCAPE_FROM_LOCHLEVEN_CASTLE" id="vol2QUEEN_MARYS_ESCAPE_FROM_LOCHLEVEN_CASTLE"></a>QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN CASTLE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Highland Boat-air.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Put off, put off, and row with speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now 's the time, and the hour of need!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To oars, to oars, and trim the bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Scotland's queen be a warder's mark!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_180" id="vol2Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yon light that plays round the castle's moat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is only the warder's random shot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put off, put off, and row with speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now is the time, and the hour of need!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those pond'rous keys<a name="vol2FNanchor_93_93" id="vol2FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> shall the kelpies keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lodge in their caverns dark and deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall Lochleven's towers or hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold thee, our lovely lady, in thrall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be the haunt of traitors, sold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Scotland has hands and hearts so bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, steersmen, steersmen, on with speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now is the time, and the hour of need!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! the alarum-bell hath rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the warder's voice hath treason sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoes to the falconet's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chime swiftly to the dashing oar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let town, and hall, and battlements gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We steer by the light of the tapers' beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Scotland and Mary, on with speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, now is the time, and the hour of need!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2WHEN_CHARLIE_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS_CAME" id="vol2WHEN_CHARLIE_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS_CAME"></a>WHEN CHARLIE TO THE HIGHLANDS CAME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The bonnie Mill-dams o' Balgonie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Charlie to the Highlands came,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was a' joy and gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We trow'd na that our hearts sae soon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wad broken be wi' sadness.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_181" id="vol2Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! why did Heaven sae on us frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And break our hearts wi' sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! it will never smile again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bring a gladsome morrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our dwellings, and our outlay gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lie smoking, and in ruin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our bravest youths, like mountain deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foe is oft pursuing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our home is now the barren rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if by Heaven forsaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our shelter and our canopy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heather and the bracken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! we maun wander far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foreign lands maun hide in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our bonnie glens, we lo'ed sae dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We daurna langer bide in.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LORD_RONALD_CAME_TO_HIS_LADYS_BOWER" id="vol2LORD_RONALD_CAME_TO_HIS_LADYS_BOWER"></a>LORD RONALD CAME TO HIS LADY'S BOWER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the moon was in her wane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord Ronald came at a late, late hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to her bower is gane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saftly stept in his sandal shoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And saftly laid him doun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It 's late, it 's late," quoth Ellenore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Sin ye maun wauken soon.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_182" id="vol2Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lord Ronald, stay till the early cock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall flap his siller wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' saftly ye maun ope the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' loose the silken string."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Ellenore, my fairest fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Ellenore, my bride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can ye fear when my merry men a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are on the mountain side."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon was hid, the night was sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Ellenore's heart was wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She heard the cock flap his siller wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' she watched the morning ray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Rise up, rise up, Lord Ronald, dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mornin' opes its e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, speed thee to thy father's tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And safe, safe may thou be."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there was a page, a little fause page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lord Ronald did espy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' he has told his baron all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the hind and hart did lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It is na for thee, but thine, Lord Ronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy father's deeds o' weir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since the hind has come to my faul',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His blood shall dim my spear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord Ronald kiss'd fair Ellenore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And press'd her lily hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic a comely knight and comely dame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er met in wedlock's band:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the baron watch'd, as he raised the latch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kiss'd again his bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his spear, in deadly ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He pierced Lord Ronald's side.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_183" id="vol2Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The life-blood fled frae fair Ellenore's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She look'd all wan and ghast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She lean'd her down by Lord Ronald's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the blood was rinnin' fast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She kiss'd his lip o' the deadlie hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But his life she cou'dna stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom throbb'd ae deadlie throb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' their spirits baith fled away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LOVELY_MAID_OF_ORMADALE" id="vol2THE_LOVELY_MAID_OF_ORMADALE"></a>THE LOVELY MAID OF ORMADALE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Highland Lassie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sets the sun o'er Lomond's height,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blaze upon the western wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When peace and love possess the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And echo sleeps within the cave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by love's soft endearing charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I stray the pathless winding vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hail the hour that gives to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely maid of Ormadale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes outshine the star of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her cheeks the morning's rosy hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pure as flower in summer shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Low bending in the pearly dew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor flower sae fair and lovely pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall fate's dark wintry winds assail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As angel-smile she aye will be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear to the bowers of Ormadale.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_184" id="vol2Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let fortune soothe the heart of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wealth to all its votaries give;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be mine the rosy smile of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in its blissful arms to live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would resign fair India's wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet Arabia's spicy gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For balmy eve and Scotian bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thee, loved maid of Ormadale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2A_LASSIE_CAM_TO_OUR_GATE" id="vol2A_LASSIE_CAM_TO_OUR_GATE"></a>A LASSIE CAM' TO OUR GATE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' low she curtsied doun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was lovelier far, an' fairer to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then a' our ladies roun'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' whare may your dwelling be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her heart, I trow, was liken to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the tear-drap dimm'd her e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I haena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I haena a hame, nor ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain here wad I rest my weary feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the night begins to fa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I took her into our tapestry ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' we drank the ruddy wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye I strave, but fand my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast bound wi' Love's silken twine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_185" id="vol2Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ween'd she might be the fairies' queen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was sae jimp and sma';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tear that dimm'd her bonnie blue e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fell ower twa heaps o' snaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' whare may your dwelling be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can the winter's rain an' the winter's wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blaw cauld on sic as ye?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I haena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I haena a ha' nor hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father was ane o' "Charlie's" men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' him I daurna name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er be your kith, whate'er be your kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae this ye mauna gae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gin ye 'll consent to be my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae marrow ye shall hae.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet maiden, tak' the siller cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae fu' o' the damask wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' press it to your cherrie lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ye shall aye be mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' drink, sweet doo, young Charlie's health,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a' your kin sae dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Culloden has dimm'd mony an e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' mony a saut, saut tear.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_186" id="vol2Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_THISTLE_AND_THE_ROSE" id="vol2THE_THISTLE_AND_THE_ROSE"></a>THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There grew in bonnie Scotland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thistle and a brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye they twined and clasp'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like sisters, kind and dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose it was sae bonnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It could ilk bosom charm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistle spread its thorny leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To keep the rose frae harm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bonnie laddie tended<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose baith ear' and late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He water'd it, and fann'd it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wove it with his fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the leal hearts of Scotland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pray'd it might never fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistle was sae bonny green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose sae like the snaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the weird sisters sat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Hope's fair emblems grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They drapt a drap upon the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' bitter, blasting dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye they twined the mystic thread,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ere their task was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snaw-white shade it disappear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wither'd in the sun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bonnie laddie tended<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose baith ear' an' late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He water'd it, and fann'd it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wove it with his fate;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_187" id="vol2Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But the thistle tap it wither'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winds bore it far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Scotland's heart was broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the rose sae like the snaw!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_COVENANTERS_LAMENT" id="vol2THE_COVENANTERS_LAMENT"></a>THE COVENANTER'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The Martyr's Grave."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nae Covenant now, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nae Covenant now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Solemn League and Covenant<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are a' broken through!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae Renwick now, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nae gude Cargill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor holy Sabbath preaching<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the Martyrs' Hill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's naething but a sword, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bluidy, bluidy ane!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waving owre poor Scotland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her rebellious sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scotland 's a' wrang, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scotland 's a' wrang—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's neither to the hill nor glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lassie, we daur gang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Martyrs' Hill 's forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In simmer's dusk sae calm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae gathering now, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sing the e'ening psalm!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_188" id="vol2Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But the martyr's grave will rise, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon the warrior's cairn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the martyr soun' will sleep, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aneath the waving fern!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BONNIE_LASSIE" id="vol2BONNIE_LASSIE"></a>BONNIE LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie, blythesome lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet 's the sparkling o' thine e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye hae stown my heart frae me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fondly wooing, fondly sueing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me love, nor love in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate shall never fond hearts sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hearts still bound by true love's chain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fancy dreaming, hope bright beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall each day life's feast renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours the treasure, ours the pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still to live and love more true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mirth and folly, joys unholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never shall our thoughts employ;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles inviting, hearts uniting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love and bliss without alloy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie, blythesome lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet 's the sparkling o' thine e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye hae stown my heart frae me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_189" id="vol2Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ANDREW_MERCER" id="vol2ANDREW_MERCER"></a>ANDREW MERCER.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>North British Magazine</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_190" id="vol2Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_HOUR_OF_LOVE" id="vol2THE_HOUR_OF_LOVE"></a>THE HOUR OF LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the fair one and the dear one—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lover by her side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strays or sits as fancy flits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where yellow streamlets glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gleams illuming—flowers perfuming<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where'er her footsteps rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Time beguiling with her smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! that 's the hour of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the fair one and the dear one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid a moonlight scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grove and glade, and light and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are all around serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Heaves the soft sigh of ecstasy,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While coos the turtle-dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And in soft strains appeals—complains,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! that 's the hour of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should the fair one and the dear one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sigh of pity lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For human woe, that presses low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A stranger, or a friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tears descending, sweetly blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As down her cheeks they rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beauty's charms in pity's arms—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! that 's the hour of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the fair one and the dear one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Appears in morning dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flowing vest by fancy drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the angel beams;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The heavenly mien, and look serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Confess her from above;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While rising sighs and dewy eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Say, that 's the hour of love!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_191" id="vol2Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JOHN_LEYDEN_MD" id="vol2JOHN_LEYDEN_MD"></a>JOHN LEYDEN, M.D.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_94_94" id="vol2FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_192" id="vol2Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> He now accepted the editorship of the +<i>Scots Magazine</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_193" id="vol2Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<a name="vol2FNanchor_95_95" id="vol2FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>In John Leyden an unconquerable perseverance was<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_194" id="vol2Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> 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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Magazine</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_195" id="vol2Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_96_96" id="vol2FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His bright and brief career is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mute his tuneful strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loved the light of song to pour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A distant and a deadly shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has Leyden's cold remains."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_196" id="vol2Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ODE_TO_THE_EVENING_STAR" id="vol2ODE_TO_THE_EVENING_STAR"></a>ODE TO THE EVENING STAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet thy modest light to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair star! to love and lovers dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While trembling on the falling dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like beauty shining through a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or hanging o'er that mirror-stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mark that image trembling there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seem'st to smile with softer gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see thy lovely face so fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though, blazing o'er the arch of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moon thy timid beams outshine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As far as thine each starry light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her rays can never vie with thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine are the soft, enchanting hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When twilight lingers on the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whispers to the closing flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That soon the sun will rise again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine is the breeze that, murmuring bland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As music, wafts the lover's sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids the yielding heart expand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In love's delicious ecstasy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair star! though I be doom'd to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That rapture's tears are mix'd with pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, still I feel 'tis sweet to love—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter to be loved again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_197" id="vol2Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_RETURN_AFTER_ABSENCE" id="vol2THE_RETURN_AFTER_ABSENCE"></a>THE RETURN AFTER ABSENCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm breathing of love, and the friends we shall meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rocks of the desert, so rough when we roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem soft, soft as silk, on the dear path of home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white waves of the Jeikon, that foam through their speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem scarcely to reach to the girth of my steed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rejoice, O Bokhara, and flourish for aye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy King comes to meet thee, and long shall he stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our King is our moon, and Bokhara our skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where soon that fair light of the heavens shall arise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bokhara our orchard, the cypress our king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Bokhara's fair orchard soon destined to spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LAMENT_FOR_RAMA" id="vol2LAMENT_FOR_RAMA"></a>LAMENT FOR RAMA.</h3> + +<p class='center'>FROM THE BENGALI.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I warn you, fair maidens, to wail and to sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Rama, our Rama, to greenwood must fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hasten, come hasten, to see his array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ayud'hya is dark when our chief goes away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the people are flocking to see him pass by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are silent and sad, with the tear in their eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the fish in the streamlets a broken sigh heaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the birds of the forest lament from the leaves.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_198" id="vol2Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His fine locks are matted, no raiment has he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the wood, save a girdle of bark from the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of all his gay splendour, you nought may behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save his bow and his quiver, and ear-rings of gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! we thought to have seen him in royal array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before his proud squadrons his banners display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the voice of the people exulting to own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sovereign assuming the purple and crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the time has gone by, my hope is despair,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One maiden perfidious has wrought all my care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our light is departing, and darkness returns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a lamp half-extinguished, and lonely it burns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith fades from the age, nor can honour remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fame is delusive, and glory is vain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_199" id="vol2Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JAMES_SCADLOCK" id="vol2JAMES_SCADLOCK"></a>JAMES SCADLOCK.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_200" id="vol2Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_201" id="vol2Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ALONG_BY_LEVERN_STREAM_SO_CLEAR97" id="vol2ALONG_BY_LEVERN_STREAM_SO_CLEAR97"></a>ALONG BY LEVERN STREAM SO CLEAR.<a name="vol2FNanchor_97_97" id="vol2FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Along by Levern stream so clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Spring adorns the infant year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And music charms the list'ning ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll wander with my Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My bonny blooming Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not Spring itself to me is dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When absent from my Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Summer's sun pours on my head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sultry rays, I 'll seek the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unseen upon a primrose bed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll sit with little Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My bonny blooming Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fragrant flowers around are spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To charm my little Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's mild 's the sun through April shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glances on the leafy bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's sweet as Flora's fav'rite flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My bonny little Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My blooming little Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me but her, no other dower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll ask with little Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should fickle fortune frown on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave me bare 's the naked tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possess'd of her, how rich I 'd be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My lovely little Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My bonny blooming Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From gloomy care and sorrow free,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'd ever keep my Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_202" id="vol2Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2HARK_HARK_THE_SKYLARK_SINGING" id="vol2HARK_HARK_THE_SKYLARK_SINGING"></a>HARK, HARK, THE SKYLARK SINGING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Welsh Air</span>—<i>"The rising of the Lark."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark, hark the skylark singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the early clouds are bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fragrance on their wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still on high he 's soaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the liquid haze exploring,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fainter now he sings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the purple dawn is breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast approaches morning's ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his wings the dew he 's shaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As he joyful hails the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While echo, from his slumbers waking,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Imitates his lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, see the ruddy morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his blushing locks adorning<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Mountain, wood, and vale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear, clear the dew-drop 's glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the rising sun 's advancing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er the eastern hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the distant summits clearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the vapours steal their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his heath-clad breast 's appearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tinged with Phœbus' golden ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far down the glen the blackbird 's cheering<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Morning with her lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, then, let us be straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hazel boughs are playing,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_203" id="vol2Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i6">O'er yon summits gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mild now the breeze is blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crystal streamlet 's flowing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gently on its way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On its banks the wild rose springing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcomes in the sunny ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wet with dew its head is hinging,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bending low the prickly spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then haste, my love, while birds are singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the newborn day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2OCTOBER_WINDS" id="vol2OCTOBER_WINDS"></a>OCTOBER WINDS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Oh, my love's bonnie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">October winds, wi' biting breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now nip the leaves that 's yellow fading;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae gowans glint upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! they 're co'er'd wi' winter's cleading.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As through the woods I musing gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae birdies cheer me frae the bushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save little robin's lanely sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild warbling where the burnie gushes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is jogging down the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dimly through the mist he 's shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cranreugh hoar creeps o'er the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Day resigns his throne to E'ening.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft let me walk at twilight gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To view the face of dying nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Spring again, wi' mantle green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Delights the heart o' ilka creature.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_204" id="vol2Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2SIR_ALEXANDER_BOSWELL_BART" id="vol2SIR_ALEXANDER_BOSWELL_BART"></a>SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL, BART.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_205" id="vol2Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_206" id="vol2Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_98_98" id="vol2FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_207" id="vol2Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_208" id="vol2Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JENNYS_BAWBEE" id="vol2JENNYS_BAWBEE"></a>JENNY'S BAWBEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I met four chaps yon birks amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' hanging lugs and faces lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spier'd at neighbour Bauldy Strang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wha 's they I see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, Ilk cream-faced, pawky chiel'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinks himsel' cunnin' as the deil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here they cam awa' to steal<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first, a Captain to his trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' ill-lined skull, but back weel clade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March'd round the barn, and by the shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And papped on his knee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, My goddess, nymph, and queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your beauty 's dazzled baith my e'en!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ne'er a beauty he had seen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Norland Laird neist trotted up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bawsint naig and siller whup;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried—There 's my beast, lad, haud the grup,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or tie it to a tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What 's gowd to me? I 've wealth o' lan',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bestow on ane o' worth your han':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought to pay what he was awn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Lawyer neist, wi' bleth'rin' gab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha speeches wove like ony wab;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' ilk ane's corn aye took a dab,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a' for a fee;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_209" id="vol2Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Accounts he owed through a' the toun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tradesmen's tongues nae mair could drown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now he thought to clout his goun<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quite spruce, just frae the washin' tubs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fool came neist; but life has rubs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And jaupit a' was he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He danced up, squintin' through a glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grinn'd, i' faith, a bonnie lass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought to win, wi' front o' brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She bade the laird gae kaim his wig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sodger not to strut sae big,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lawyer not to be a prig;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fool he cried, Te-hee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kenn'd that I could never fail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she pinn'd the dishclout to his tail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soused him frae the water-pail,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And kept her bawbee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Johnnie came, a lad o' sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although he had na mony pence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And took young Jenny to the spence,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' her to crack a wee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now Johnnie was a clever chiel',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here his suit he press'd sae weel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jenny's heart grew saft as jeel,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And she birl'd her bawbee.<a name="vol2FNanchor_99_99" id="vol2FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_210" id="vol2Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JENNY_DANG_THE_WEAVER100" id="vol2JENNY_DANG_THE_WEAVER100"></a>JENNY DANG THE WEAVER.<a name="vol2FNanchor_100_100" id="vol2FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At Willie's weddin' o' the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lasses, bonnie witches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were busked out in aprons clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snaw-white Sunday mutches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Mysie bade the lads tak' tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Jock wad na believe her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon the fool his folly kent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Jenny dang the weaver.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In ilka country dance and reel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' her he wad be babbin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she sat down, then he sat down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And till her wad be gabbin';<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_211" id="vol2Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er she gaed, or butt or ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The coof wad never leave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye cacklin' like a clockin' hen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Jenny dang the weaver.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, My lass, to speak my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In troth I needna swither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 've bonnie e'en, and, gif ye 're kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I needna court anither!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He humm'd and haw'd, the lass cried "pheugh,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bade the coof no deave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne crack'd her thumb, and lap and leugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dang the silly weaver.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LASS_O_ISLA" id="vol2THE_LASS_O_ISLA"></a>THE LASS O' ISLA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, Mary, sweetest maid, farewell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hopes are flown, for a 's to wreck;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven guard you, love, and heal your heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though mine, alas, alas! maun break."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dearest lad, what ills betide?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is Willie to his love untrue?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engaged the morn to be his bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! hae ye, hae ye, ta'en the rue?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye canna wear a ragged gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or beggar wed wi' nought ava;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My kye are drown'd, my house is down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My last sheep lies aneath the snaw."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_212" id="vol2Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tell na me o' storm or flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Willie's sake I Willie lo'ed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though poor, ye are my Willie still."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye canna thole the wind and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wander friendless far frae hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will soon blot out lost Willie's name."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'll tak my bundle in my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll wander wi' ye ower the land;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll venture wi' ye ower the sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Forgi'e me, love, 'twas all a snare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My flocks are safe, we needna part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd forfeit them and ten times mair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To clasp thee, Mary, to my heart."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How could ye wi' my feelings sport,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or doubt a heart sae warm and true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I maist could wish ye mischief for 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But canna wish ought ill to you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2TASTE_LIFES_GLAD_MOMENTS101" id="vol2TASTE_LIFES_GLAD_MOMENTS101"></a>TASTE LIFE'S GLAD MOMENTS.<a name="vol2FNanchor_101_101" id="vol2FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Taste life's glad moments,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Whilst the wasting taper glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pluck, ere it withers,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The quickly-fading rose.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_213" id="vol2Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man blindly follows grief and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seeks for thorns, and finds his share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst violets to the passing air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unheeded shed their blossoms.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When tim'rous Nature veils her form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rolling thunder spreads alarm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun shines forth at even.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How spleen and envy anxious flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meek content, in humble guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which golden fruits shall yield him.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who fosters faith in upright breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freely gives to the distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sweet contentment builds her nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flutters round his bosom.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when life's path grows dark and strait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pressing ills on ills await,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then friendship, sorrow to abate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The helping hand will offer.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dries his tears, she strews his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns night to morn, and morn to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pleasure still increases.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_214" id="vol2Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of life she is the fairest band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joins brothers truly hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, onward to a better land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man journeys light and cheerly.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Taste life's, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A" id="vol2GOOD_NIGHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A"></a>GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night, and joy be wi' ye a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sorrow may ye never part!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit lives, but strength is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain-fires now blaze in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember, sons, the deeds I 've done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in your deeds I 'll live again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When on yon muir our gallant clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae boasting foes their banners tore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha shew'd himself a better man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fiercer waved the red claymore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when in peace—then mark me there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When through the glen the wand'rer came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gave him of our lordly fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I gave him here a welcome hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The auld will speak, the young maun hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be cantie, but be gude and leal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Anither's aye hae heart to feel.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_215" id="vol2Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So, ere I set, I 'll see ye shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll see ye triumph ere I fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My parting breath shall boast you mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2OLD_AND_NEW_TIMES102" id="vol2OLD_AND_NEW_TIMES102"></a>OLD AND NEW TIMES.<a name="vol2FNanchor_102_102" id="vol2FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Kellyburn Braes."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hech! what a change hae we now in this town!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lads a' sae braw, the lasses sae glancin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folk maun be dizzie gaun aye in the roun'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For deil a haet 's done now but feastin' and dancin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gowd 's no that scanty in ilk siller pock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When ilka bit laddie maun hae his bit staigie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I kent the day when there was nae a Jock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But trotted about upon honest shank's naigie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Barely a mullin for mice or for rattens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thrifty housewife to the flesh-market paced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her equipage a'—just a gude pair o' pattens.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Folk were as good then, and friends were as leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a-cantrin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right air we were tell 't by the housemaid or chiel',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sir, an' ye please, here 's your lass and a lantern.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_216" id="vol2Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The town may be clouted and pieced, till it meets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' neebours benorth and besouth, without haltin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brigs may be biggit ower lums and ower streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Nor' Loch itsel' heapêd heigh as the Calton.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But whar is true friendship, and whar will you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' that is gude, honest, modest, and thrifty?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tak' gray hairs and wrinkles, and hirple wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And think on the seventeen hundred and fifty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BANNOCKS_O_BARLEY_MEAL103" id="vol2BANNOCKS_O_BARLEY_MEAL103"></a>BANNOCKS O' BARLEY MEAL.<a name="vol2FNanchor_103_103" id="vol2FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bannocks o' Barley Meal."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live at a court, and yet never to change;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To faction, or tyranny, equally foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good of the land 's the sole motive I know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foes of my country and king I have faced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In city or battle I ne'er was disgraced;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've done what I could for my country's weal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I 'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye riots and revels of London, adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And folly, ye foplings, I leave her to you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Scotland, I mingled in bustle and strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For myself, I seek peace and an innocent life:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_217" id="vol2Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll haste to the Highlands, and visit each scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Maggie, my love, in her rockley o' green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the banks of Glenary what pleasure I 'll feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she shares my bannock o' barley meal!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if it chance Maggie should bring me a son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall fight for his king, as his father has done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hang up my sword with an old soldier's pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! may he be worthy to wear 't on his side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pant for the breeze of my loved native place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I long for the smile of each welcoming face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll aff to the Highlands as fast 's I can reel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_218" id="vol2Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2WILLIAM_GILLESPIE" id="vol2WILLIAM_GILLESPIE"></a>WILLIAM GILLESPIE.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_219" id="vol2Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_220" id="vol2Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_HIGHLANDER104" id="vol2THE_HIGHLANDER104"></a>THE HIGHLANDER.<a name="vol2FNanchor_104_104" id="vol2FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the climes of the sun, all war-worn and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Highlander sped to his youthful abode;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair visions of home cheer'd the desert so dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though fierce was the noon-beam, and steep was the road.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till spent with the march that still lengthen'd before him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stopp'd by the way in a sylvan retreat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light shady boughs of the birch-tree waved o'er him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stream of the mountain fell soft at his feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sunk to repose where the red heaths are blended,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On dreams of his childhood his fancy past o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his battles are fought, and his march it is ended,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound of the bagpipes shall wake him no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No arm in the day of the conflict could wound him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though war launch'd her thunder in fury to kill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the Angel of Death in the desert has found him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stretch'd him in peace by the stream of the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pale Autumn spreads o'er him the leaves of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fays of the wild chant the dirge of his rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, little brook, still the sleeper deplorest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And moistens the heath-bell that weeps on his breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_221" id="vol2Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ELLEN" id="vol2ELLEN"></a>ELLEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon shone in fits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tempest was roaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Storm Spirit shriek'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fierce rain was pouring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone in her chamber,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Ellen sat sighing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tapers burn'd dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the embers were dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The drawbridge is down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spans the wide river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can tempests divide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom death cannot sever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unclosed is the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those arms long to fold thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis midnight, my love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O say, what can hold thee?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But scarce flew her words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the bridge reft asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The horseman was crossing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid lightning and thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud was the yell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he plunged in the billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maid knew it well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As she sprang from her pillow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She scream'd o'er the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But no help was beside her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice to her view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose the horse and his rider.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_222" id="vol2Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She gazed at the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the dark cloud pass'd over;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She plunged in the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she sunk to her lover.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, what is that flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the midnight deep beaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whose are those forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the wan moonlight gleaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flame gilds the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which their pale corses cover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those forms are the ghosts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the maid and her lover.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_223" id="vol2Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2THOMAS_MOUNSEY_CUNNINGHAM" id="vol2THOMAS_MOUNSEY_CUNNINGHAM"></a>THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_224" id="vol2Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> Barncaillie and Collieston, and latterly by the +ingenious Mr Miller of Dalswinton.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scots Magazine</i> as the contributor +of some of the best verses which had<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_225" id="vol2Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> 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 <i>Scots Magazine</i>, and these proved the +best ornaments of the work.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scots Magazine</i>, 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 <i>Scots Magazine</i> of 1815. On the origin of the +<i>Edinburgh Magazine</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_226" id="vol2Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_105_105" id="vol2FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> 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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_227" id="vol2Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ADOWN_THE_BURNIES_FLOWERY_BANK106" id="vol2ADOWN_THE_BURNIES_FLOWERY_BANK106"></a>ADOWN THE BURNIE'S FLOWERY BANK.<a name="vol2FNanchor_106_106" id="vol2FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adown the burnie's flowery bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or through the shady grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or 'mang the bonnie scroggie braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, Peggy, let us rove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See where the stream out ower the linn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep headlong foamin' pours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There let us gang and stray amang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bloomin' hawthorn bowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll pu' the rose frae aff the brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lily frae the brae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll hear the birdies blithely sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As up the glen we gae.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His yellow haughs o' wavin' grain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The farmer likes to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my ain Peggy's artless smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is far mair dear to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_HILLS_O_GALLOWA107" id="vol2THE_HILLS_O_GALLOWA107"></a>THE HILLS O' GALLOWA'.<a name="vol2FNanchor_107_107" id="vol2FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The Lea Rig."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amang the birks sae blithe an' gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I met my Julia hameward gaun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linties chantit on the spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lammies loupit on the lawn;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_228" id="vol2Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +<span class="i0">On ilka swaird the hay was mawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The braes wi' gowans buskit bra',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ev'ning's plaid o' gray was thrawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out ower the hills o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' music wild the woodlands rang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fragrance wing'd alang the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As down we sat the flowers amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the banks o' stately Dee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Julia's arms encircled me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' saftly slade the hours awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till dawning coost a glimm'rin' e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the hills o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It isna owsen, sheep, an' kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It isna gowd, it isna gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lifted e'e wad hae, quo' I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gie to me my Julia dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh, sae blithe through life I 'll steer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When gloamin' daunders up the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' our gudeman ca's hame the yowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' her I 'll trace the mossy rill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That through the muir meand'ring rowes;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_229" id="vol2Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or tint amang the scroggie knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My birken pipe I 'll sweetly blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills an' dales o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' when auld Scotland's heathy hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her rural nymphs an' jovial swains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her flowery wilds an' wimpling rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awake nae mair my canty strains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where friendship dwells an' freedom reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where heather blooms an' muircocks craw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dig my grave, and lay my banes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BRAES_OF_BALLAHUN108" id="vol2THE_BRAES_OF_BALLAHUN108"></a>THE BRAES OF BALLAHUN.<a name="vol2FNanchor_108_108" id="vol2FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Roslin Castle."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now smiling summer's balmy breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft whispering, fans the leafy trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linnet greets the rosy morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet in yon fragrant flowery thorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bee hums round the woodbine bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Collecting sweets from every flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pure the crystal streamlets run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the braes of Ballahun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, blissful days, for ever fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wand'ring wild, as fancy led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ranged the bushy bosom'd glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scroggie shaw, the rugged linn,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_230" id="vol2Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And mark'd each blooming hawthorn bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where nestling sat the speckled thrush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, careless roaming, wander'd on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the braes of Ballahun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why starts the tear, why bursts the sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hills and dales rebound with joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowery glen and lilied lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain display their charms to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I joyless roam the heathy waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe this sad, this troubled breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek the haunts of men to shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the braes of Ballahun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The virgin blush of lovely youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angel smile of artless truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This breast illumed with heavenly joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lyart time can ne'er destroy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Julia dear! the parting look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad farewell we sorrowing took,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still haunt me as I stray alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the braes of Ballahun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_UNCO_GRAVE109" id="vol2THE_UNCO_GRAVE109"></a>THE UNCO GRAVE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_109_109" id="vol2FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Crazy Jane."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Clouden, as ye wander<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hills, an' haughs, an' muirs amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilka knowe an' green meander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Learn my sad, my dulefu' sang!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_231" id="vol2Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Braes o' breckan, hills o' heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Howms whare rows the gowden wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blissful scenes, fareweel for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I maun seek an unco grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sair I pled, though fate, unfriendly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stang'd my heart wi' waes and dules,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That some faithfu' hand might kindly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay 't among my native mools.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cronies dear, wha late an' early<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye to soothe my sorrows strave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think on ane wha lo'es ye dearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doom'd to seek an unco grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Torn awa' frae Scotia's mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far frae a' that 's dear to dwall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mak's my e'en twa gushin' fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dings a dirk in my puir saul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Braes o' breckan, hills o' heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Howms whare rows the gowden wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blissful scenes, fareweel for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I maun seek an unco grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JULIAS_GRAVE" id="vol2JULIAS_GRAVE"></a>JULIA'S GRAVE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Logan Water."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye briery bields, where roses blaw!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye flowery fells, and sunny braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whase scroggie bosoms foster'd a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pleasures o' my youthfu' days!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_232" id="vol2Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Amang your leafy simmer claes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blushing blooms, the zephyr flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne wings awa', and wanton plays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the grave whare Julia lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae mair your bonnie birken bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your streamlets fair, and woodlands gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can cheer the weary winged hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As up the glen I joyless stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' my hopes hae flown away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when they reach'd their native skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left me amid the world o' wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To weet the grave where Julia lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is na beauty's fairest bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is na maiden charms consign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hurried to an early tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wrings my heart and clouds my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sparkling wit, and sense refined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spotless truth, without disguise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me with sighs enrich the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fans the grave whare Julia lies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2FAREWEEL_YE_STREAMS" id="vol2FAREWEEL_YE_STREAMS"></a>FAREWEEL, YE STREAMS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lassie wi' the Yellow Coatie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, ye streams sae dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie Clouden, Kith, and Dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye burns that row sae bonnily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your siller waves nae mair I 'll see.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_233" id="vol2Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet though frae your green banks I 'm driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My saul away could ne'er be riven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still she lifts her e'en to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sighs to be again wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye canty bards ayont the Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your skins wi' claes o' tartan cleed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lilt alang the verdant mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or blithely on your whistles blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sing auld Scotia's barns an ha's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bourtree dykes an mossy wa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her faulds, her bughts, an' birken shaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare love an' freedom sweeten a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing o' her carles teuch an' auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her carlines grim that flyte an' scauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wabsters blithe, an' souters bauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her flocks an' herds sae fair to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing o' her mountains bleak an high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fords, whare neigh'rin' kelpies ply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her glens, the haunts o' rural joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lasses lilting o'er the lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To you the darling theme belangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That frae my heart exulting spangs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, mind, amang your bonnie sangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lads that bled for liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think o' our auld forbears o' yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha dyed the muir wi' hostile gore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha slavery's bands indignant tore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bravely fell for you an' me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_234" id="vol2Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My gallant brithers, brave an' bauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha haud the pleugh, or wake the fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until your dearest bluid rin cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye true unto your country be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' daring look her dirk she drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' coost a mither's e'e on you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let na ony spulzien crew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her dear-bought freedom wrest frae thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_235" id="vol2Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JOHN_STRUTHERS" id="vol2JOHN_STRUTHERS"></a>JOHN STRUTHERS.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>protégé</i>. 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_236" id="vol2Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>A man of strong intellect and vigorous imagination,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_237" id="vol2Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Christian Instructor</i>, 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_238" id="vol2Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_239" id="vol2Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ADMIRING_NATURES_SIMPLE_CHARMS" id="vol2ADMIRING_NATURES_SIMPLE_CHARMS"></a>ADMIRING NATURE'S SIMPLE CHARMS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Gramachre."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Admiring Nature's simple charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I left my humble home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile my country's peaceful plains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With pilgrim step to roam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark'd the leafy summer wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On flowing Irvine's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But richer far 's the robe she wears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the vale of Clyde.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I roam'd the braes o' bonnie Doon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winding banks o' Ayr,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flutters many a small bird gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blooms many a flow'ret fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer far to me the stem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That once was Calder's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blossoms now the fairest flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the vale of Clyde.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Avaunt, thou life-repressing north,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye withering east winds too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But come, thou all-reviving west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe soft thy genial dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at the last, in peaceful age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This lovely flow'ret shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its last green leaf upon my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the vale of Clyde.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_240" id="vol2Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2OH_BONNIE_BUDS_YON_BIRCHEN_TREE" id="vol2OH_BONNIE_BUDS_YON_BIRCHEN_TREE"></a>OH, BONNIE BUDS YON BIRCHEN TREE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The mill, mill, O."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The western breeze perfuming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly smiles yon sunny brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' gowans gaily blooming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter than yon birchen tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gowans gaily blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is she, in blushing modesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha meets me there at gloaming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, happy, happy there yestreen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In mutual transport ranging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among these lovely scenes, unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our vows of love exchanging.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon, with clear, unclouded face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem'd bending to behold us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathing birks, with soft embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most kindly to enfold us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We bade each tree record our vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And each surrounding mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every star on high that glows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From light's o'erflowing fountain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gloaming gray bedims the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On day's bright beam encroaching;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rapture once again I hail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trysting hour approaching.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_241" id="vol2Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2RICHARD_GALL" id="vol2RICHARD_GALL"></a>RICHARD GALL.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Evening +Courant</i>. At the close of his apprenticeship, he became Mr Ramsay's +travelling clerk.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_242" id="vol2Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_243" id="vol2Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2HOW_SWEET_IS_THE_SCENE" id="vol2HOW_SWEET_IS_THE_SCENE"></a>HOW SWEET IS THE SCENE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet is the scene at the waking o' morning!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How fair ilka object that lives in the view!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dame Nature the valley an' hillock adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild-rose an' blue-bell yet wet wi' the dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet in the morning o' life is my Anna!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her smiles like the sunbeam that glints on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander an' leave the dear lassie, I canna;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Truth, Love, an' Beauty, I never can flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O lang hae I lo'ed her, and lo'ed her fu' dearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For saft is the smile o' her bonny sweet mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aft hae I read in her e'en, glancing clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A language that bade me be constant an' true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then ithers may doat on their gowd an' their treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For pelf, silly pelf, they may brave the rude sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lo'e my sweet lassie, be mine the dear pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' her let me live, an' wi' her let me die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CAPTAIN_OKAIN" id="vol2CAPTAIN_OKAIN"></a>CAPTAIN O'KAIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flow saftly, thou stream, through the wild spangled valley;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh green be thy banks, ever bonny an' fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing sweetly, ye birds, as ye wanton fu' gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet strangers to sorrow, untroubled by care.<br /></span> +<span class="i14">The weary day lang<br /></span> +<span class="i14">I list to your sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' waste ilka moment, sad, cheerless, alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Each sweet little treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i14">O' heart-cheering pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far fled frae my bosom wi' Captain O'Kain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_244" id="vol2Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fu' aft on thy banks hae we pu'd the wild gowan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' twisted a garland beneath the hawthorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! then each fond moment wi' pleasure was glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet days o' delight, which can never return!<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Now ever, wae's me!<br /></span> +<span class="i14">The tear fills my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An sair is my heart wi' the rigour o' pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Nae prospect returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">To gladden life's morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For green waves the willow o'er Captain O'Kain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_ONLY_JO_AND_DEARIE_O" id="vol2MY_ONLY_JO_AND_DEARIE_O"></a>MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only jo an' dearie, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy neck is like the siller dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the banks sae briery, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy teeth are o' the ivory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, sweet 's the twinkle o' thine e'e!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae joy, nae pleasure, blinks on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only jo an' dearie, O.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The birdie sings upon the thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its sang o' joy, fu' cheerie, O,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoicing in the simmer morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae care to make it eerie, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little kens the sangster sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ought o' the care I hae to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gars my restless bosom beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only jo an' dearie, O.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_245" id="vol2Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan we were bairnies on yon brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' youth was blinking bonny, O,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft we wad daff the lee lang day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our joys fu' sweet an' mony, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft I wad chase thee o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' round about the thorny tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pu' the wild flowers a' for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only jo an' dearie, O.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae a wish I canna tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish that thou wert ever mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' never mair to leave me, O;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I wad dawt thee night an' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae ither warldly care wad hae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till life's warm stream forgat to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only jo an' dearie, O.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BONNIE_BLINK_O_MARYS_EE110" id="vol2THE_BONNIE_BLINK_O_MARYS_EE110"></a>THE BONNIE BLINK O' MARY'S E'E.<a name="vol2FNanchor_110_110" id="vol2FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now bank an' brae are clad in green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birdies flit on wanton wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Cassillis' banks, when e'ening fa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There let my Mary meet wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There catch her ilka glance o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_246" id="vol2Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The chiel' wha boasts o' warld's wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is aften laird o' meikle care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Mary she is a' my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Fortune canna gie me mair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let me stray by Cassillis' banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' her, the lassie dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' catch her ilka glance o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BRAES_O_DRUMLEE" id="vol2THE_BRAES_O_DRUMLEE"></a>THE BRAES O' DRUMLEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere eild wi' his blatters had warsled me down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or reft me o' life's youthfu' bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How aft hae I gane, wi' a heart louping light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the knowes yellow tappit wi' broom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How aft hae I sat i' the beild o' the knowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the laverock mounted sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the mavis sang sweet in the plantings around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, ah! while we daff in the sunshine of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We see na' the blasts that destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We count na' upon the fell waes that may come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An eithly o'ercloud a' our joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw na the fause face that fortune can wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till forced from my country to flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a heart like to burst, while I sobbed, "Farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fareweel, ye dear haunts o' the days o' my youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye woods and ye valleys sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll bloom whan I wander abroad like a ghaist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sair nidder'd wi' sorrow an' care.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_247" id="vol2Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ye woods an' ye valleys, I part wi' a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the flood gushes down frae my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never again shall the tear weet my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Time, could I tether your hours for a wee!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Na, na, for they flit like the wind!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I took my departure, an' saunter'd awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet aften look'd wistfu' behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sair is the heart of the mither to twin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the baby that sits on her knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sairer the pang, when I took a last peep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heftit 'mang strangers years thretty-an'-twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But naething could banish my care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aften I sigh'd when I thought on the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare a' was sae pleasant an' fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, wae 's my heart! whan I 'm lyart an' auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fu' lint-white my haffet-locks flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm hamewards return'd wi' a remnant o' life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor body! bewilder'd, I scarcely do ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The haunts that were dear ance to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I yirded a plant in the days o' my youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the mavis now sings on the tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, haith! there 's nae scenes I wad niffer wi' thae;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For it fills my fond heart fu' o' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think how at last my auld banes they will rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Near the bonnie green braes o' Drumlee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_248" id="vol2Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2I_WINNA_GANG_BACK_TO_MY_MAMMY_AGAIN" id="vol2I_WINNA_GANG_BACK_TO_MY_MAMMY_AGAIN"></a>I WINNA GANG BACK TO MY MAMMY AGAIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna gang back to my mammy again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll never gae back to my mammy again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'll never gang back to my mammy again.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've held by her apron, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' plaidie sae bonny, an' bannet sae blue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O come awa, lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"O come awa, lassie," &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his doo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o' my mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I fell on his bosom heart-flicher'd an' fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sigh'd out, "O Johnnie, I 'll aye be your ain!"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While I fell on his bosom, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some lasses will talk to their lads wi' their e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stapping-stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I 'll never gae back to my mammy again.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For many lang year sin' I play'd on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mammy was kind as a mither could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'll never gang back to my mammy again.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've held by her apron, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_249" id="vol2Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BARD" id="vol2THE_BARD"></a>THE BARD.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Irish Air</span>—<i>"The Brown Maid."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Bard strikes his harp the wild valleys amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare the tall aiken trees spreading leafy appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the murmuring breeze mingles sweet wi' his sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wafts the saft notes till they die on the ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Mary, whase presence sic transport conveys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whase beauties my moments o' pleasure control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the strings o' my heart ever wantonly plays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' each languishing note is a sigh frae my soul!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her breath is as sweet as the sweet-scented brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blossoms and blaws in yon wild lanely glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I view her fair form which nae mortal can peer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A something o'erpowers me I dinna weel ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sweetness her snawy white bosom displays!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blink o' her bonny black e'e wha' can thole!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the strings o' my heart she bewitchingly plays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' each languishing note is a sigh frae my soul!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LOUISA_IN_LOCHABER" id="vol2LOUISA_IN_LOCHABER"></a>LOUISA IN LOCHABER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can ought be constant as the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That makes the world sae cheerie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, a' the powers can witness be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love I bear my dearie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what can make the hours seem lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' rin sae wondrous dreary?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What but the space that lies between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me an' my only dearie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_250" id="vol2Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then fare ye weel, wha saw me aft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae blythe, baith late and early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fareweel scenes o' former joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That cherish life sae rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith love an' beauty bid me flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor linger lang an' eerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But haste, an' in my arms enfauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My only pride an' dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll hail Lochaber's valleys green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where many a rill meanders;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hail wi' joy, its birken bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there Louisa wanders.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There will I clasp her to my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' tent her smile fu' cheerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' thus, without a wish or want,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Live happy wi' my dearie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_HAZELWOOD_WITCH" id="vol2THE_HAZELWOOD_WITCH"></a>THE HAZELWOOD WITCH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For mony lang year I hae heard frae my grannie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of brownies an' bogles by yon castle wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of auld wither'd hags that were never thought cannie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fairies that danced till they heard the cock caw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leugh at her tales; an' last owk, i' the gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I daunder'd, alane, down the hazelwood green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! I was reckless, and rue sair my roamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I met a young witch, wi' twa bonnie black e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I thought o' the starns in a frosty night glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan a' the lift round them is cloudless an' blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I looked again, an' my heart fell a-dancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I wad hae spoken, she glamour'd my mou'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_251" id="vol2Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O wae to her cantrips! for dumpish I wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At kirk or at market there 's nought to be seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she dances afore me wherever I daunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hazelwood witch wi' the bonnie black e'en.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2FAREWELL_TO_AYRSHIRE111" id="vol2FAREWELL_TO_AYRSHIRE111"></a>FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_111_111" id="vol2FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scenes that former thoughts renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now a sad and last adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Doon, sae sweet at gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fare thee weel before I gang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonny Doon, whare, early roamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First I weaved the rustic sang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bowers, adieu! where, love decoying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First enthrall'd this heart o' mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the saftest sweets enjoying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweets that memory ne'er shall tine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends sae near my bosom ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye hae render'd moments dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, alas! when forced to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then the stroke, O how severe!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_252" id="vol2Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friends, that parting tear reserve it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though 'tis doubly dear to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I think I did deserve it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How much happier would I be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scenes that former thoughts renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now a sad and last adieu!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_253" id="vol2Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2GEORGE_SCOTT" id="vol2GEORGE_SCOTT"></a>GEORGE SCOTT.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_254" id="vol2Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_FLOWER_OF_THE_TYNE" id="vol2THE_FLOWER_OF_THE_TYNE"></a>THE FLOWER OF THE TYNE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie Dundee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now rests the red sun in his caves of the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now closed every eye but of misery and mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, led by the moonbeam, in fondest devotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I doat on her image, the Flower of the Tyne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheek far outrivals the rose's rich blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her eyes the bright gems of Golconda outshine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow-drop and lily are lost on her bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For beauty unmatched is the Flower of the Tyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So charming each feature, so guileless her nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand fond voices pronounce her divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So witchingly pretty, so modestly witty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sweet is thy thraldom, fair Flower of the Tyne!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine aspect so noble, yet sweetly inviting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loves and the graces thy temples entwine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In manners the saint and the syren uniting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bloom on, dear Louisa, the Flower of the Tyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair, Caledonia, the nymphs of thy mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And graceful and straight as thine own silver pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fresh as thy breezes, and pure as thy fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet fairer to me is the Flower of the Tyne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This poor throbbing heart as an offering I give her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A temple to love is this bosom of mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then smile on thy victim, Louisa, for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll kneel at thine altar, sweet Flower of the Tyne.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_255" id="vol2Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2THOMAS_CAMPBELL" id="vol2THOMAS_CAMPBELL"></a>THOMAS CAMPBELL.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_256" id="vol2Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> 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:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The tempest blackens on the dusky moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And billows lash the long-resounding shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pensive mood I roam the desert ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vainly sigh for scenes no longer found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, whither fled the pleasurable hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That chased each care, and fired the muse's powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The classic haunts of youth, for ever gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where mirth and friendship cheer'd the close of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The well-known valleys where I wont to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The native sports, the nameless joys of home?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far different scenes allure my wondering eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white wave foaming to the distant sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cloudy heavens, unblest by summer's smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sounding storm that sweeps the rugged isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chill, bleak summit of eternal snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wide, wild glen, the pathless plains below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark blue rocks, in barren grandeur piled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cuckoo sighing to the pensive wild!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far different these from all that charm'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grassy banks of Clutha's winding shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sloping vales, with waving forests lined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smooth blue lakes, unruffled by the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail, happy Clutha! glad shall I survey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gilded turrets from the distant way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sight shall cheer the weary traveller's toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy shall hail me to my native soil."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_257" id="vol2Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_258" id="vol2Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> 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 +<i>Morning Chronicle</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>In 1803, Campbell resolved to settle in London; in his progress to the +metropolis he visited his friends Ros<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_259" id="vol2Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>coe 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 <i>Star</i>, +with a salary of two hundred pounds per annum, and became a contributor +to the <i>Philosophical Magazine</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>New Monthly +Maga<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_260" id="vol2Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>zine</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Metropolitan</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>Of the poetry of Thomas Campbell, "The Pleasures of Hope" is one of the +most finished epics in the language; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_261" id="vol2Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_262" id="vol2Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND" id="vol2YE_MARINERS_OF_ENGLAND"></a>YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye mariners of England,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That guard our native seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flag has braved a thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The battle and the breeze!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your glorious standard launch again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To match another foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweep through the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirit of your fathers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall start from every wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the deck it was their field of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ocean was their grave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your manly hearts shall glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ye sweep through the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Britannia needs no bulwarks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No towers along the steep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her home is on the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thunders from her native oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She quells the floods below,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they roar on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_263" id="vol2Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The meteor flag of England<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall yet terrific burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till danger's troubled night depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the star of peace return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, then, ye ocean warriors!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our song and feast shall flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the fame of your name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the storm has ceased to blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the fiery fight is heard no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the storm has ceased to blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GLENARA" id="vol2GLENARA"></a>GLENARA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her sire, and the people, are call'd to her bier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They march'd all in silence, they look'd on the ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In silence they reach'd, over mountain and moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a heath where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why speak ye no word?" said Glenara the stern.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So spake the rude chieftain. No answer is made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_264" id="vol2Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_WOUNDED_HUSSAR" id="vol2THE_WOUNDED_HUSSAR"></a>THE WOUNDED HUSSAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alone to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O, whither," she cried, "hast thou wander'd, my lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or here dost thou welter and bleed on the shore?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sigh'd!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, bleeding and low, on the heath she descried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the light of the moon, her poor wounded hussar!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_265" id="vol2Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent was streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That melted in love, and that kindled in war!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hast thou come, my fond love, this last sorrowful night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cheer the lone heart of your wounded hussar?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou shalt live," she replied; "Heaven's mercy relieving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each anguishing wound shall forbid me to mourn!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah, no! the last pang of my bosom is heaving;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No light of the morn shall to Henry return!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye babes of my love, that await me afar!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he sank in her arms—the poor wounded hussar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC" id="vol2BATTLE_OF_THE_BALTIC"></a>BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Of Nelson and the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing the glorious day's renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When to battle fierce came forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All the might of Denmark's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her arms along the deep proudly shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By each gun the lighted brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a bold determined hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the Prince of all the land<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Led them on.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_266" id="vol2Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Like leviathans afloat,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lay their bulwarks on the brine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the sign of battle flew<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the lofty British line:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was ten of April morn by the chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they drifted on their path,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There was silence deep as death,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the boldest held his breath<br /></span> +<span class="i8">For a time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But the might of England flush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To anticipate the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her van the fleeter rush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the deadly space between.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hearts of oak!" our Captain cried; when each gun<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From its adamantine lips<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Spread a death-shade round the ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like the hurricane eclipse<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Again! again! again!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the havoc did not slack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till a feeble cheer the Dane<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To our cheering sent us back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their shots along the deep slowly boom;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then ceased, and all is wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they strike the shatter'd sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or in conflagration pale<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Light the gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Out spoke the victor then,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As he hail'd them o'er the wave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Ye are brothers! ye are men!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And we conquer but to save.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_267" id="vol2Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So peace instead of death let us bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But yield, proud foe! thy fleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the crews, at England's feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And make submission meet<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To our King."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then Denmark bless'd our chief<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That he gave her wounds repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the sounds of joy and grief<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From her people wildly rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Death withdrew his shades from the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the sun look'd smiling bright<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er a wide and woeful sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the fires of funeral light<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Died away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now joy, Old England, raise!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the tidings of thy might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the festal cities blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet amidst that joy and uproar,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Let us think of them that sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Full many a fathom deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By thy wild and stormy steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Elsinore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Brave hearts! to Britain's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Once so faithful and so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the deck of fame that died,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the gallant good Riou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the billow mournful rolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the mermaid's song condoles,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Singing glory to the souls<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the brave!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_268" id="vol2Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MEN_OF_ENGLAND" id="vol2MEN_OF_ENGLAND"></a>MEN OF ENGLAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men of England, who inherit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rights that cost your sires their blood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men whose undegenerate spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has been proved on field and flood,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the foes you 've fought uncounted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the glorious deeds ye 've done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trophies captured, breaches mounted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Navies conquer'd, kingdoms won.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, remember, England gathers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hence but fruitless wreathes of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the freedom of your fathers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glow not in your hearts the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are monuments of bravery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence no public virtues bloom?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What avail in lands of slavery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trophied temples, arch and tomb?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pageants!—Let the world revere us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For our people's rights and laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the breasts of civic heroes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bared in Freedom's holy cause.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sidney's matchless shade is yours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Martyrs in heroic story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worth a hundred Agincourts!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 're the sons of sires that baffled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crown'd and mitred tyranny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They defied the field and scaffold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For their birthrights—so will we!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_269" id="vol2Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MRS_G_G_RICHARDSON112" id="vol2MRS_G_G_RICHARDSON112"></a>MRS G. G. RICHARDSON.<a name="vol2FNanchor_112_112" id="vol2FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></h3> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_270" id="vol2Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_271" id="vol2Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> 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 +unosten<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_272" id="vol2Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>tatious 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_273" id="vol2Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_FAIRY_DANCE" id="vol2THE_FAIRY_DANCE"></a>THE FAIRY DANCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fairies are dancing—how nimbly they bound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They flit o'er the grass tops, they touch not the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their kirtles of green are with diamonds bedight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All glittering and sparkling beneath the moonlight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark, hark to their music! how silvery and clear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis surely the flower-bells that ringing I hear,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lazy-wing'd moth, with the grasshopper wakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the field-mouse peeps out, and their revels partakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How featly they trip it! how happy are they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pass all their moments in frolic and play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rove where they list, without sorrows or cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laugh at the fetters mortality wears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where have they vanish'd?—a cloud 's o'er the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hie to the spot,—they 'll be seen again soon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hasten—'tis lighter,—and what do I view?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairies were grasses, the diamonds were dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus do the sparkling illusions of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deceive and allure, and we take them for truth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too happy are they who the juggle unshroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the hint to inspect them be brought by a cloud.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_274" id="vol2Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SUMMER_MORNING" id="vol2SUMMER_MORNING"></a>SUMMER MORNING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How pleasant, how pleasant to wander away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the fresh dewy fields at the dawning of day,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have all this silence and lightness my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And revel with Nature, alone,—all alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What a flush of young beauty lies scatter'd around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this calm, holy sunshine, and stillness profound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myriads are sleeping, who waken to care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earth looks like Eden, ere Adam was there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The herbage, the blossoms, the branches, the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shower on the river their beautiful dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far misty mountains, the wide waving fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What healthful enjoyment surveying them yields!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, this is the hour Nature's lovers partake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The manna that melts when Life's vapours awake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another, and thoughts will be busy, oh how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unlike the pure vision they 're ranging in now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! the hare scudding forth, lo! the trout in the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gently splashing, are stirring the folds of my dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cattle are rising, and hark, the first bird,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now in full chorus the woodlands are heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, who on the summer-clad landscape can gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the orison hour, nor break forth into praise,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, through this fair garden contemplative rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor feel that the Author and Ruler is love?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_275" id="vol2Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ask no hewn temple, sufficient is here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask not art's anthems, the woodland is near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breeze is all risen, each leaf at his call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a tear drop of gratitude ready to fall!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_THE_FLOWING_TIDE" id="vol2THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_THE_FLOWING_TIDE"></a>THERE 'S MUSIC IN THE FLOWING TIDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's music in the flowing tide, there 's music in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's music in the swallow's wing, that skims so lightly there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's music in each waving tress of grove, and bower, and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To eye and ear 'tis music all where Nature revels free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's discord in the gilded halls where lordly rivals meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's discord where the harpers ring to beauty's glancing feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's discord 'neath the jewell'd robe, the wreath, the plume, the crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever Fashion waves her wand, there discord rules the breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's music 'neath the cottage eaves, when, at the close of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind-hearted mirth and social ease the toiling hour repay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though coarse the fare, though rude the jest, that cheer that lowly board,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There loving hearts and honest lips sweet harmony afford!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_276" id="vol2Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! who the music of the groves, the music of the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would barter for the city's din, the frigid tones of art?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virtues flourish fresh and fair, where rural waters glide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shrink and wither, droop and die, where rolls that turbid tide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2AH_FADED_IS_THAT_LOVELY_BLOOM" id="vol2AH_FADED_IS_THAT_LOVELY_BLOOM"></a>AH! FADED IS THAT LOVELY BLOOM.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Written to an Italian Air.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! faded is that lovely bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And closed in death that speaking eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buried in a green grass tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What once breathed life and harmony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely the sky is all too dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And chilly blows the summer air,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where 's thy song now, sprightly lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That used to wake my slumb'ring fair?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! never shalt thou wake her more!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou, bright sun, shalt ne'er again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On inland mead, or sea-girt shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Salute the darling of the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maiden! they bade me o'er thy fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Numbers and strains mellifluous swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew the love I bore thee great,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They knew not what I ne'er can tell.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_277" id="vol2Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The unstrung heart to others leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music of a feebler woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her numbers are the sighs she heaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her off'ring tears that ever flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where could I gather fancies now?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They 're with'ring on thy lowly tomb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My summer was thy cheek and brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And perish'd is that lovely bloom!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_278" id="vol2Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2THOMAS_BROWN_MD" id="vol2THOMAS_BROWN_MD"></a>THOMAS BROWN, M.D.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_279" id="vol2Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. 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 <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_280" id="vol2Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_113_113" id="vol2FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_281" id="vol2Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2CONSOLATION_OF_ALTERED_FORTUNES" id="vol2CONSOLATION_OF_ALTERED_FORTUNES"></a>CONSOLATION OF ALTERED FORTUNES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each charm by endearing remembrance improved;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These walks of our love, the sweet bower thou hast planted,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We must leave them to eyes that will view them unmoved.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, weep not, my Fanny! though changed be our dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We bear with us all, in the home of our mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In virtues will glow that heart, fondly swelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Affection's best treasure we leave not behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I shall labour, but still by thy image attended—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can toil be severe which a smile can repay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glad shall we meet! every care will be ended;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our evening of bliss will be more than a day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Content's cheerful beam will our cottage enlighten;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New charms the new cares of thy love will inspire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smiles, 'mid the smiles of our offspring, will lighten;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall see it—and oh, can I feel a desire?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_282" id="vol2Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_FAITHLESS_MOURNER" id="vol2THE_FAITHLESS_MOURNER"></a>THE FAITHLESS MOURNER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thy smile was still clouded in gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the tear was still dim in thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought of the virtues, scarce cold in the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I spoke not of love to thy sigh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I spoke not of love; yet the breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which mark'd thy long anguish,—deplore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sire, whom in sickness, in age, thou hadst bless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though silent, was loving thee more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How soon wert thou pledged to my arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hadst vow'd, but I urged not the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thine eye grateful turn'd, oh, so sweet were its charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That it more than atoned the delay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear'd not, too slow of belief—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fear'd not, too proud of thy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That another would steal on the hour of thy grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thy grief would be soft to his art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou heardst—and how easy allured,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every vow of the past to forsware;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love, which for thee would all pangs have endured,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou couldst smile, as thou gav'st to despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, think not my passion has flown!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why say that my vows now are free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why say—yes! I feel that my heart is my own;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel it is breaking for thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_283" id="vol2Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LUTE" id="vol2THE_LUTE"></a>THE LUTE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! do not bid me wake the lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It once was dear to Henry's ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now be its voice for ever mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The voice which Henry ne'er can hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though many a month has pass'd since Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His grave's wan turf has bloom'd anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One whisper of those chords would bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all its grief, our last adieu.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The songs he loved—'twere sure profane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To careless Pleasure's laughing brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe; and oh! what other strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Henry's lute could love allow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though not a sound thy soul hath caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mine it looks, thus softly dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweeter tenderness of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than all its living strings have shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then ask me not—the charm was broke;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With each loved vision must I part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If gay to every ear it spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twould speak no longer to my heart.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_284" id="vol2Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet once too blest!—the moonlit grot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where last I gave its tones to swell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! the <i>last</i> tones—thou heardst them not—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From other hands than mine they fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, silent slumbering, let it keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sacred touch! And oh! as dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To life, would, would that I could sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could sleep, and only dream of <i>him</i>!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_285" id="vol2Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2WILLIAM_CHALMERS" id="vol2WILLIAM_CHALMERS"></a>WILLIAM CHALMERS.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_286" id="vol2Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SING_ON" id="vol2SING_ON"></a>SING ON.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Pride of the Broomlands."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sing on, thou little bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy wild notes sae loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sing, sweetly sing frae the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aft beneath thy birken bow'r<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have met at e'ening hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My young Jamie that 's far o'er the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">On yon bonnie heather knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We pledged our mutual vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear is the spot unto me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though pleasure I hae nane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I wander alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my Jamie is far o'er the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But why should I mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The seasons will return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And verdure again clothe the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rets shall spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the saft breeze shall bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dear laddie again back to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou star! give thy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Guide my lover aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae rocks and frae shoals keep him free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now gold I hae in store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He shall wander no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no more shall he sail o'er the sea.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_287" id="vol2Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LOMOND_BRAES" id="vol2THE_LOMOND_BRAES"></a>THE LOMOND BRAES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, lassie, wilt thou go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the Lomond wi' me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild thyme 's in bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flower 's on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wilt thou go my dearest love?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I will ever constant prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll range each hill and grove<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the Lomond wi' thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O young men are fickle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor trusted to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a native gem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shines fair on the lea:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou mayst see some lovely flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of a more attractive power,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And may take her to thy bower<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the Lomond wi' thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The hynd shall forsake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the mountain the doe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream of the fountain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall cease for to flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ben-Lomond shall bend<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His high brow to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere I take to my bower<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Any flower, love, but thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's taken her mantle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's taken his plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He coft her a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he made her his bride:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They 're far o'er yon hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To spend their happy days,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And range the woody glens<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mang the Lomond braes.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_288" id="vol2Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JOSEPH_TRAIN" id="vol2JOSEPH_TRAIN"></a>JOSEPH TRAIN.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_289" id="vol2Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> 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,<a name="vol2FNanchor_114_114" id="vol2FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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 Mor<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_290" id="vol2Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>tality," "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."</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_115_115" id="vol2FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a></p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_291" id="vol2Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>Mr Train contributed to the periodicals both in prose and verse. Many of +his compositions were published in the <i>Dumfries Magazine</i>, <i>Bennett's +Glasgow Magazine</i>, and the <i>Ayr Courier</i> and <i>Dumfries Courier</i> +newspapers. An interesting tale from his pen, entitled "Mysie and the +Minister," appeared in the thirtieth number of <i>Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal</i>; 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_292" id="vol2Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_293" id="vol2Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_DOGGIE" id="vol2MY_DOGGIE"></a>MY DOGGIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The neighbours a' they wonder how<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am sae ta'en wi' Maggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! they little ken, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How kind she 's to my doggie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yestreen as we linked o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet her in the gloamin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fondly on my Bawtie cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er she saw us comin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But was the tyke not e'en as kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though fast she beck'd to pat him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He louped up and slaked her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afore she could win at him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But save us, sirs, when I gaed in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lean me on the settle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atween my Bawtie and the cat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There rose an awfu' battle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' though that Maggie saw him lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His lugs in bawthron's coggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wi' the besom lounged poor chit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And syne she clapp'd my doggie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae weel do I this kindness feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though Mag she isna bonnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though she 's feckly twice my age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I lo'e her best of ony.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_294" id="vol2Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May not this simple ditty show,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How oft affection catches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from what silly sources, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proceed unseemly matches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' eke the lover he may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albeit his joe seem saucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she is kind unto his dog,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 'll win at length the lassie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BLOOMING_JESSIE" id="vol2BLOOMING_JESSIE"></a>BLOOMING JESSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On this unfrequented plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can gar thee sigh alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie blue-eyed lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thy mammy dead and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or thy loving Jamie slain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wed anither, mak nae main,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie, blooming Jessie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I sob and sigh alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was never wed to ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quo' the blue-eyed lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if loving Jamie's slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell pleasure, welcome pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' the joy wi' him is gane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' poor hapless Jessie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere he cross'd the raging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he ever true to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie, blooming Jessie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he ever frank and free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swore he constant aye to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he on the roseate lea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ca' thee blooming Jessie?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_295" id="vol2Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere he cross'd the raging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft he on the dewy lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ca'd me blue-eyed lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel I mind his words to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were, if he abroad should die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His last throb and sigh should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie, blooming Jessie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far frae hame, and far frae thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw loving Jamie die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie blue-eyed lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast a cannon ball did flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid him stretch'd upo' the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon in death he closed his e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crying, "Blooming Jessie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swelling with a smother'd sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose the snowy bosom high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the blue-eyed lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleeter than the streamers fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they flit athwart the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went and came the rosy dye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the cheeks of Jessie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Longer wi' sic grief oppress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jamie couldna sae distress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See the blue-eyed lassie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast he clasp'd her to his breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told her a' his dangers past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vow'd that he would wed at last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie, blooming Jessie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_296" id="vol2Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2OLD_SCOTIA" id="vol2OLD_SCOTIA"></a>OLD SCOTIA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the heart that now beats in my bosom is still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My forefathers loved thee, for often they drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dirks in defence of thy banners of blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though murky thy glens, where the wolf prowl'd of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And craggy thy mountains, where cataracts roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The race of old Albyn, when danger was nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee stood resolved still to conquer or die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love yet to roam where the beacon-light rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where echoed thy slogan, or gather'd thy foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst forth rush'd thy heroic sons to the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opposing the stranger who came in his might.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love through thy time-fretted castles to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mould'ring halls of thy chiefs to survey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grope through the keep, and the turret explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where waved the blue flag when the battle was o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love yet to roam o'er each field of thy fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where valour has gain'd thee a glorious name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love where the cairn or the cromlach is made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ponder, for low there the mighty are laid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were these fall'n heroes to rise from their graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They might deem us dastards, they might deem us slaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let a foe face thee, raise fire on each hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sons, my dear Scotia, will fight for thee still!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_297" id="vol2Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ROBERT_JAMIESON" id="vol2ROBERT_JAMIESON"></a>ROBERT JAMIESON.</h2> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_298" id="vol2Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_299" id="vol2Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_WIFE_S_A_WINSOME_WEE_THING" id="vol2MY_WIFE_S_A_WINSOME_WEE_THING"></a>MY WIFE 'S A WINSOME WEE THING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"My Wife 's a wanton wee Thing."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My wife 's a winsome wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnie, blythesome wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dear, my constant wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And evermair sall be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It warms my heart to view her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna choose but lo'e her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! weel may I trow her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How dearly she lo'es me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though her face sae fair be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As nane could ever mair be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though her wit sae rare be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As seenil do we see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauty ne'er had gain'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wit had ne'er enchain'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor baith sae lang retain'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But for her love to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When wealth and pride disown'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' views were dark around me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sad and laigh she found me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As friendless worth could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ither hope gaed frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pity kind did stay me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love for love she ga'e me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that 's the love for me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_300" id="vol2Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, till this heart is cald, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That charm of life will hald by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though my wife grow auld, my<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leal love aye young will be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she 's my winsome wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My canty, blythesome wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tender, constant wee thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And evermair sall be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2GO_TO_HIM_THEN_IF_THOU_CANST_GO" id="vol2GO_TO_HIM_THEN_IF_THOU_CANST_GO"></a>GO TO HIM, THEN, IF THOU CAN'ST GO.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go to him, then, if thou can'st go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waste not a thought on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart and mind are a' my store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they were dear to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is music in his gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(I ne'er sae sweet could sing),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That finds a chord in every breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In unison to ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The modest virtues dread the spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The honest loves retire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purer sympathies of soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far other charms require.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breathings of my plaintive reed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sink dying in despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The still small voice of gratitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even that is heard nae mair.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_301" id="vol2Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, if thy heart can suffer thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The powerful call obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mount the splendid bed that wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pride for thee display.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then gaily bid farewell to a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's trembling hopes and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I my lanely pillow here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wash with unceasing tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, in the fremmit arms of him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That half thy worth ne'er knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! think na on my lang-tried love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How tender and how true!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sure 'twould break thy gentle heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My breaking heart to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a' the wrangs and waes it 's tholed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet maun thole for thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_302" id="vol2Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2WALTER_WATSON" id="vol2WALTER_WATSON"></a>WALTER WATSON.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_303" id="vol2Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_304" id="vol2Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_JOCKIE_S_FAR_AWA" id="vol2MY_JOCKIE_S_FAR_AWA"></a>MY JOCKIE 'S FAR AWA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now simmer decks the fields wi' flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woods wi' leaves so green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' little burds around their bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In harmony convene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cuckoo flees frae tree to tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While saft the zephyrs blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what are a' thae joys to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Jockie 's far awa'?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When Jockie 's far awa' on sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When Jockie 's far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But what are a' thae joys to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When Jockie 's far awa'?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last May mornin', how sweet to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little lambkins play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst my dear lad, alang wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did kindly walk this way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On yon green bank wild flowers he pou'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To busk my bosom braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, sweet he talk'd, and aft he vow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now he 's far awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But now, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O gentle peace, return again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring Jockie to my arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae dangers on the raging main,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' cruel war's alarms;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_305" id="vol2Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Gin e'er we meet, nae mair we 'll part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we hae breath to draw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will I sing, wi' aching heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Jockie 's far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Jockie 's far awa,' &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MAGGIE_AN_ME" id="vol2MAGGIE_AN_ME"></a>MAGGIE AN' ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Banks o' the Dee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the wild flowers, as they deck the green lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' by the clear burnies that sweetly meander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To charm us, as hameward they rin to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nestlin's are fain the saft wing to be tryin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fondly the dam the adventure is eyein',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' teachin' her notes, while wi' food she 's supplyin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her tender young offspring, like Maggie an' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The corn in full ear, is now promisin' plenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The red clusterin' row'ns bend the witch-scarrin' tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lapt in its leaves lies the strawberry dainty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As shy to receive the embrace o' the bee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hope, come alang, an' our steps will be pleasant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The future, by thee, is made almost the present;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou frien' o' the prince an' thou frien' o' the peasant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou lang hast befriended my Maggie an' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere life was in bloom we had love in our glances,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' aft I had mine o' her bonnie blue e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We needit nae art to engage our young fancies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas done ere we kent, an' we own't it wi' glee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_306" id="vol2Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Now pleased, an' aye wishin' to please ane anither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've pass'd twenty years since we buckled thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ten bonnie bairns, lispin' faither an' mither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hae toddled fu' fain atween Maggie an' me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2SIT_DOWN_MY_CRONIE116" id="vol2SIT_DOWN_MY_CRONIE116"></a>SIT DOWN, MY CRONIE.<a name="vol2FNanchor_116_116" id="vol2FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the win' tak the cares o' this life on its back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts to despondency we ne'er will submit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sae will we yet, an' sae will we yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let 's ca' for a tankar' o' nappy brown ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will comfort our hearts an' enliven our tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've drunk wi' ither mony a time, an' sae will we yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sae will we yet, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae rax me your mill, an' my nose I will prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let mirth an' sweet innocence employ a' our time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae quarr'lin' nor fightin' we here will permit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've parted aye in unity, an' sae will we yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sae will we yet, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_307" id="vol2Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2BRAES_O_BEDLAY117" id="vol2BRAES_O_BEDLAY117"></a>BRAES O' BEDLAY.<a name="vol2FNanchor_117_117" id="vol2FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Hills o' Glenorchy."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My cares flee awa' like a thief frae the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart loups licht, an' I join in a sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the sweet birds on the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet the embrace, yet how honest the wishes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When luve fa's a-wooin', an' modesty blushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur Mary an' I meet amang the green bushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That screen us sae weel, on the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nane sae trig or sae fair as my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mony a wooer she answers wi' "Nay,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha fain wad hae her to lea' me alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' meet me nae mair on the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fearna, I carena, their braggin' o' siller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor a' the fine things they can think on to tell her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae vauntin' can buy her, nae threatnin' can sell her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's luve leads her out to the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll gang by the links o' the wild rowin' burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whaur aft in my mornin' o' life I did stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur luve was invited and cares were beguiled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Mary an' me, on the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae luvin', sae movin', I 'll tell her my story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmixt wi' the deeds o' ambition for glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur wide spreadin' hawthorns, sae ancient and hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enrich the sweet breeze on the braes o' Bedlay.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_308" id="vol2Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JESSIE" id="vol2JESSIE"></a>JESSIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Hae ye seen in the calm dewy mornin'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hae ye been in the North, bonnie lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whaur Glaizert rins pure frae the fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur the straight stately beech staun's sae gaucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' luve lilts his tale through the dell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! then ye maun ken o' my Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae blythesome, sae bonnie an' braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lassies hae doubts about Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her charms steal their luvers awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can see ye 're fu' handsome an' winnin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your cleedin 's fu' costly an' clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your wooers are aften complainin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' wounds frae your bonnie blue e'en.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could lean me wi' pleasure beside thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae kiss o' thy mou' is a feast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May luve wi' his blessins abide thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Jessie 's the queen o' my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I maun gang an' get hame, my sweet Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For fear some young laird o' degree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May come roun' on his fine sleekit bawsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ding a' my prospects agee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's naething like gowd to the miser,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's naething like light to the e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they canna gie me ony pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If Jessie prove faithless to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_309" id="vol2Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us meet on the border, my Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whaur Kelvin links bonnily bye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my words may be scant to address ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart will be loupin' wi' joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ance I were wedded to Jessie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' that may be ere it be lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll can brag o' the bonniest lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ere was the theme o' a sang.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_310" id="vol2Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2WILLIAM_LAIDLAW" id="vol2WILLIAM_LAIDLAW"></a>WILLIAM LAIDLAW.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_311" id="vol2Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh +Annual Register</i>; and for a short period he furnished a similar record +to <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>. 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 misfor<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_312" id="vol2Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>tunes 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_313" id="vol2Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_314" id="vol2Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LUCYS_FLITTIN118" id="vol2LUCYS_FLITTIN118"></a>LUCY'S FLITTIN'.<a name="vol2FNanchor_118_118" id="vol2FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Paddy O'Rafferty."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Martinmas dowie had wind up the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Lucy had served in "The Glen" a' the simmer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She cam there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stan'in',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! quo' Jamie, and ran in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As down the burnside she gaed slaw wi' the flittin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! was ilka bird's sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She heard the craw sayin 't, high on the tree sittin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And robin was chirpin 't the brown leaves amang.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_315" id="vol2Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what is 't that pits my puir heart in a flutter?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what gars the tears come sae fast to my e'e?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I wasna ettled to be ony better,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then what gars me wish ony better to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm just like a lammie that loses its mither;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear I hae tint my puir heart a' the gither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yestreen, when he gae me 't, and saw I was sabbin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never forget the wae blink o' his e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cudna say mair but just, Fare-ye-weel, Lucy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it 's drowkit;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hare likes the brake, and the braird on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Lucy likes Jamie;—she turn'd and she lookit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_316" id="vol2Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2HER_BONNIE_BLACK_EE" id="vol2HER_BONNIE_BLACK_EE"></a>HER BONNIE BLACK E'E.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Saw ye my Wee Thing."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the banks o' the burn while I pensively wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mavis sings sweetly, unheeded by me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think on my lassie, her gentle mild nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When heavy the rain fa's, and loud, loud the win' blaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' simmer's gay cleedin' drives fast frae the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heedna the win' nor the rain when I think on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The kind lovely smile o' my lassie's black e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When swift as the hawk, in the stormy November,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cauld norlan' win' ca's the drift owre the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bidin' its blast on the side o' the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When braw at a weddin' I see the fine lasses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a' neat an' bonnie, they 're naething to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh an' sit dowie, regardless what passes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I miss the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thin twinklin' sternies announce the gray gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When a' round the ingle sae cheerie to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then music delightfu', saft on the heart stealin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Minds me o' the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where jokin' an' laughin', the lave they are merry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though absent my heart, like the lave I maun be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes I laugh wi' them, but aft I turn dowie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' think on the smile o' my lassie's black e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_317" id="vol2Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lovely fair form frae my mind 's awa' never,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's dearer than a' this hale warld to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' this is my wish, may I leave it if ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She rowe on anither her love-beaming e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2ALAKE_FOR_THE_LASSIE" id="vol2ALAKE_FOR_THE_LASSIE"></a>ALAKE FOR THE LASSIE!</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Logie o' Buchan."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alake for the lassie! she 's no right at a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lo'es a dear laddie an' he far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the lassie has muckle mair cause to complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lo'es a dear lad, when she 's no lo'ed again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fair was just comin', my heart it grew fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see my dear laddie, to see him again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart it grew fain, an' lapt light at the thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' milkin' the ewes my dear Jamie wad bught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie gray morn scarce had open'd her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we set to the gate, a' wi' nae little glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was blythe, but my mind aft misga'e me richt sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I hadna seen Jamie for five months an' mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I' the hirin' richt soon my dear Jamie I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw nae ane like him, sae bonnie an' braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch'd an' baid near him, his motions to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hopes aye to catch a kind glance o' his e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_318" id="vol2Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He never wad see me in ony ae place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length I gaed up an' just smiled in his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder aye yet my heart brakna in twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He just said, "How are ye," an' steppit awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My neebour lads strave to entice me awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They roosed me an' hecht me ilk thing that was braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I hatit them a', an' I hatit the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jamie's behaviour had wounded me sair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His heart was sae leal, and his manners sae kind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's someway gane wrang, he may alter his mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sud he do sae, he 's be welcome to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm sure I can never like ony but he.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_319" id="vol2Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_320" id="vol2Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_321" id="vol2Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ALEXANDER_MACDONALD" id="vol2ALEXANDER_MACDONALD"></a>ALEXANDER MACDONALD.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Mac-vaistir-Alaister</i>, 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 broad<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_322" id="vol2Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>sword, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_323" id="vol2Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_LION_OF_MACDONALD"></a>THE LION OF MACDONALD.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awake, thou first of creatures! Indignant in their frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the flag unfold the features that the heather<a name="vol2FNanchor_119_119" id="vol2FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> blossoms crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise, and lightly mount thy crest while flap thy flanks in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will follow thee the best, that I may dow or dare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, I will sing the Lion-King o'er all the tribes victorious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To living thing may not concede thy meed and actions glorious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft thy noble head has woke thy valiant men to battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As panic o'er their spirit broke, and rued the foe their mettle!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is there, thy praise to underrate, in very thought presuming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er crested chieftainry<a name="vol2FNanchor_120_120" id="vol2FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> thy state, O thou, of right assuming!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_324" id="vol2Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee, on thy silken flag, in rampant<a name="vol2FNanchor_121_121" id="vol2FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> glory streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As life inspired their firmness thy planted hind feet seeming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The standard tree is proud of thee, its lofty sides embracing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anon, unfolding, to give forth thy grandeur airy space in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A following of the trustiest are cluster'd by thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woe, their flaming visages of crimson, who shall bide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heather and the blossom are pledges of their faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the foe that shall assail them, is destined to the death.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was not a dearth of mettle among thy native kind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were foremost in the battle, nor in the chase behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their arms of fire wreak'd out their ire, their shields emboss'd with gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thrusting of their venom'd points upon the foemen told;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O deep and large was every gash that mark'd their manly vigour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And irresistible the flash that lighten'd round their trigger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woe, when play'd the dark blue blade, the thick back'd sharp Ferrara,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though plied its might by stripling hand, it cut into the marrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clan Colla,<a name="vol2FNanchor_122_122" id="vol2FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> let them have their due, thy true and gallant following,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strength, kindness, grace, and clannishness, their lofty spirit hallowing.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_325" id="vol2Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hot is their ire as flames aspire, the whirling March winds fanning them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet search their hearts, no blemish'd parts are found all eyes though scanning them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rush elate to stern debate, the battle call has never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found tardy cheer or craven fear, or grudge the prey to sever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, fell their wrath! The dance<a name="vol2FNanchor_123_123" id="vol2FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> of death sends legs and arms a flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thick the life blood's reek ascends of the downfallen and the dying.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clandonuil, still my darling theme, is the prime of every clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft the heady war in, has it chased where thousands ran.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O ready, bold, and venom full, these native warriors brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like adders coiling on the hill, they dart with stinging glaive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wants their course the speed, the force,—nor wants their gallant stature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This of the rock, that of the flock that skim along the water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like whistle shriek the blows they strike, as the torrent of the fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fierce they gush—the moor flames' rush their ardour symbols well.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clandonuil's<a name="vol2FNanchor_124_124" id="vol2FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> root when crown each shoot of sapling, branch, and stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What forest fair shall e'er compare in stately pride with them?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_326" id="vol2Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their gathering might, what legion wight, in rivalry has dared;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to ravish from their Lion's face a bristle of his beard?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What limbs were wrench'd, what furrows drench'd, in that cloud burst of steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That atoned the provocation, and smoked from head to heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cry and shriek of terror break the field of strife along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stranger<a name="vol2FNanchor_125_125" id="vol2FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> notes are wailing the slaughter'd heaps among!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where from the kingdom's breadth and length might other muster gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So flush in spirit, firm in strength, the stress of arms to weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steel to the core, that evermore to expectation true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like gallant deer-hounds from the slip, or like an arrow flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where deathful strife was calling, and sworded files were closed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was sapping breach the wall in of the ranks that stood opposed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thirsty brands were hot for blood, and quivering to be on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the whistle of the blade was sounding many a groan.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O from the sides of Albyn, full thousands would be proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The natives of her mountains gray, around the tree to crowd,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_327" id="vol2Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where stream the colours flying, and frown the features grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your emblem lion with his staunch and crimson<a name="vol2FNanchor_126_126" id="vol2FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> limb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, up, be bold, quick be unrolled, the gathering of your levy,<a name="vol2FNanchor_127_127" id="vol2FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let every step bound forth a leap, and every hand be heavy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The furnace of the melee where burn your swords the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eschew not, to the rally where blaze your streamers, haste!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That silken sheet, by death strokes fleet, and strong defenders manned,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dismays the flutter of its leaves the chosen of the land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_BROWN_DAIRY-MAIDEN"></a>THE BROWN DAIRY-MAIDEN.</h3> + +<p>Burns was fascinated with the effect of this song in Gaelic; and adopted +the air for his "Banks of the Devon."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">My brown dairy, brown dairy,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Brown dairy-maiden;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brown dairy-maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bell of the heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A fetter beguiling, dairy-maiden, thy smiling;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy glove<a name="vol2FNanchor_128_128" id="vol2FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> there 's a wile in, of white hand the cover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a-milking, thy stave is more sweet than the mavis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his melodies ravish the woodlands all over;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_328" id="vol2Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy wild notes so cheerie, bring the small birds to hear thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, fluttering, they near thee, who sings to discover.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fulness as growing, so liquid, so flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy song makes a glow in the veins of thy lover.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They may talk of the viol, and its strings they may try all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the heart's dance, outvie all, the songs of the dairy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White and red are a-blending, on thy cheeks a-contending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a smile is descending from thy lips of the cherry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teeth their ivory disclosing, like dice, bright round rows in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An eye unreposing, with twinkle so merry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At summer-dawn straying, on my sight beams are raying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the tresses<a name="vol2FNanchor_129_129" id="vol2FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> they 're playing of the maid of the dairy.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At milking the prime in, song with strokings is chiming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the bowie is timing a chorus-like humming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet the gait of the maiden, nod her tresses a-spreading<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er her ears, like the mead in, the rash of the common.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her neck, amber twining, its colours combining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How their lustre is shining in union becoming!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_329" id="vol2Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy duties a-plying, white fingers are vying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With white arms, in drying the streams of the heifer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O to linger the fold in, at noonday beholding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the tether 's enfolding, be my pastime for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of milking, with melodies lilting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While with "mammets" she 's "tilting," and her bowies run over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is delight; and assuming thy pails, as becoming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a lady, dear woman! grace thy motions discover.<br /></span> +<span class="i14">My brown dairy, brown dairy, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_PRAISE_OF_MORAG" id="vol2THE_PRAISE_OF_MORAG"></a>THE PRAISE OF MORAG.</h3> + +<p>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 <i>ideal</i> 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.</p> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O that I were the shaw in,<a name="vol2FNanchor_130_130" id="vol2FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Morag was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lots to be drawing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the prize of the fair!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_330" id="vol2Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Mingling in your glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merry maidens! We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolicking would be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flow'rets along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time would pass away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the oblivion of our play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we cropp'd the primrose gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rock-clefts among;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in mock we 'd fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'd take to flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'd lose us quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the cliffs overhung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like the dew-drop blue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the mist of morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thine eye, and thy hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put the blossom to scorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All beauties they shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy person their dower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above is the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath is the stem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a sun 'mid the gleamers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a star 'mid the streamers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the flower-buds it shimmers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foremost of them!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkens eye-sight at thy ray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we wonder, still we say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can it be a thing of clay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We see in that gem?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since thy first feature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sparkled before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair! not a creature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was like thy glory.<a name="vol2FNanchor_131_131" id="vol2FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a>....<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_331" id="vol2Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away with all, away with all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away with all but Morag,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A maid whose grace and mensefulness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still carries all before it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall not find her marrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beauty without furrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though you search the islands thorough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Muile<a name="vol2FNanchor_132_132" id="vol2FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> to the Lewis;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So modest is each feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So void of pride her nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every inch of stature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To perfect grace so true is.<a name="vol2FNanchor_133_133" id="vol2FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O that drift, like a pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We madden to share it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that white of the lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis passion to near it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every charm in a cluster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose adds its lustre—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can it be but such muster<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should banish the Spirit!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We would strike the note of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dawn with its orangery<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hill-tops adorning.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_332" id="vol2Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To bush and fell resorting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the shades conceal'd our courting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would not be lack of sporting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gleeful <i>phrenesie</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the roebuck and his mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their woodland haunts elate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The race we would debate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the tendril tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou bright star of maidens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A beam without haze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No murkiness saddens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No disk-spot bewrays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swan-down to feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow of the gaillin,<a name="vol2FNanchor_134_134" id="vol2FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy limbs all excelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unite to amaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen, I would name thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of maidenly muster;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy stem is so seemly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So rich is its cluster<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of members complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adroit at each feat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy temper so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without banning or bluster.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My grief has press'd on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since the vision of Morag,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the heavy millstone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the cross-tree that bore it.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_333" id="vol2Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In vain the world over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seek her match may the rover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shaft, thy poor lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First struck overpowering.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thy ringlets of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the crooks of their fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy neck-wards were roll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All weavy and showering.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like stars that are ring'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like gems that are string'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are those locks, while, as wing'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the sun, blends a ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his yellowest beams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gold of his gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold how he streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid those tresses to play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy limbs like the canna,<a name="vol2FNanchor_135_135" id="vol2FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cinnamon kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy bright kirtle, we ken a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New phœnix of bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy sweetness of tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the woman we own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor a sneer nor a frown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On thy features appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the crowd is in motion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Sabbath devotion,<a name="vol2FNanchor_136_136" id="vol2FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">As an angel, arose on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their vision, my fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her meekness of grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flakes of her dress,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_334" id="vol2Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As they stream, might express<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such loveliness there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When endow'd at thy birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We marvel that earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its mould, should yield worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a fashion so rare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>URLAR.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never dream'd would sink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a peak that mounts world's brink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sunlight, such a blink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morag! as thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the charmings of a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Working in their cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dissolves the heart where dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy graces divine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>SIUBHAL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, counsel me, my comrades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While dizzy fancy lingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did ever flute become, lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The motion of such fingers?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did ever isle or Mor-hir,<a name="vol2FNanchor_137_137" id="vol2FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or see or hear, before her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such gracefulness, adore her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, woes me, how concealing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her I 've wedded, dare I?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, homeward bound, I tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jeanie's eye is weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her truant unrevealing.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_335" id="vol2Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The glow of love I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all the linns of Sheil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Cruachan's snow avail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cool to congealing.<a name="vol2FNanchor_138_138" id="vol2FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a>....<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CRUNLUATH.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My very brain is humming, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a swarm of bees were bumming, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I fear distraction 's coming, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My passion such a flame is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very eyes are blinding, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce giant mountains finding, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor height nor distance minding, sirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crag, as Corrie, tame is....<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2NEWS_OF_PRINCE_CHARLES" id="vol2NEWS_OF_PRINCE_CHARLES"></a>NEWS OF PRINCE CHARLES.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glad tidings for the Highlands!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To arms a ringing call—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hammers storming, targets forming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Orb-like as a ball.<a name="vol2FNanchor_139_139" id="vol2FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_336" id="vol2Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Withers dismay the pale array,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That guards the Hanoverian;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assurance sure the sea 's come o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The help is nigh we weary on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From friendly east a breeze shall haste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fruit-freight of our prayer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thousands wight in baldrick white,<a name="vol2FNanchor_140_140" id="vol2FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A prince to do and dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuart his name, his sire's the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his riffled crown appealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong his right in, soon shall Britain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be humbled to the kneeling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strength never quell'd, and sword and shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And firearms play defiance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forwards they fly, and still their cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is,<a name="vol2FNanchor_141_141" id="vol2FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> "Give us flesh!" like lions.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make ready for your travel,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be sharp-set, and be willing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There will be a dreadful revel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And liquor red be spilling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, that each chief<a name="vol2FNanchor_142_142" id="vol2FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> whose warriors rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are burning for the slaughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would let their volley, like fire to holly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blaze on the usurping traitor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many a soldier arming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is laggard in his spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er his blood the flag is warming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the King that should inherit.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_337" id="vol2Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He may be loon or coward,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spur scarce touch would nearly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The colours shew, he 's in a glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the stubble of the barley.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward, gallants! onward speed ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flower and bulwark of the Gael;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like your flag-silks be ye ruddy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rosy-red, and do not quail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fearless, artless, hawk-eyed, courteous,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As your princely strain beseems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your hands, alert for conflict,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the Spanish weapon gleams.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet the flapping of the bratach,<a name="vol2FNanchor_143_143" id="vol2FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Humming music to the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stately steps the youthful gaisgeach,<a name="vol2FNanchor_144_144" id="vol2FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_144_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proud the banner staff to bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A slashing weapon on his thigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He tends his charge unfearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor slow, pursuers venturing nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the gristle nostrils sheering.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes too, the wight, the clean, the tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The finger white, the clever, he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gives the war-pipe his embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To raise the storm of bravery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brisk and stirring, heart-inspiring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Battle-sounding breeze of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would stir the spirit of the clans<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rake the heart of Lucifer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March ye, without feint and dolour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the banner of your clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your garb of many a colour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quelling onset to a man.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_338" id="vol2Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then, to see you swiftly baring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the sheath the manly glaive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe the brain-shed, woe the unsparing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Marrow-showering of the brave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe the clattering, weapon-battering<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Answering to the piobrach's yell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your racing speeds the chasing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wide and far the clamours swell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard blows whistle from the bristle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the temples to the thigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy handed as the land-flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who will turn ye, or make fly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a man has drunk an ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Healths to Charlie, to the gorge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken many a glass proposing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weal to him and woe to George;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, 'tis feat of greater glory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, than stoups of wine to trowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One draught of vengeance deep and gory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yea, than to drain the thousandth bowl!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show ye, prove ye, ye are true all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Join ye to your clans your cheer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heed though wife and child pursue all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bidding you to fight, forbear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sinew-lusty, spirit-trusty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gallant in your loyal pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By your hacking, low as bracken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stretch the foe the turf beside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our stinging kerne of aspect stern<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love the fatal game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That revel rife till drunk with strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dye their cheeks with flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are strange to fear;—their broadswords shear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their foemen's crested brows,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_339" id="vol2Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The red-coats feel the barb of steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hot its venom glows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The few have won fields, many a one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In grappling conflicts' play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let us march, nor let our hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A start of fear betray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come gushing forth, the trusty North,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Macshimei,<a name="vol2FNanchor_145_145" id="vol2FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_145_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> loyal Gordon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prances high their chivalry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And death-dew sits each sword on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_340" id="vol2Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2JOHN_ROY_STUART" id="vol2JOHN_ROY_STUART"></a>JOHN ROY STUART.</h3> + +<p>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.<a name="vol2FNanchor_146_146" id="vol2FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_146_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> 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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_341" id="vol2Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2LAMENT_FOR_LADY_MACINTOSH" id="vol2LAMENT_FOR_LADY_MACINTOSH"></a>LAMENT FOR LADY MACINTOSH.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does grief appeal to you, ye leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven's tears with ours to blend?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The halo's veil is on, and pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beams of light descend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife repines, the babe declines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The leaves prolong their bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above, below, all signs are woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heifer moans her friend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The taper's glow of waxen snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ray when noon is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was far out-peer'd, till disappear'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our star of morn, as high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The southern west its blast released,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drown'd in floods the sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah woe! was gone the star that shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor left a visage dry<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_342" id="vol2Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For her, who won as win could none<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The people's love so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, welaway! the dirging lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That rung from Moy its knell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, the hue, where orbs of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With roses wont to dwell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can we think, nor swooning sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To earth them in the cell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silk wrapp'd thy frame, as lily stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snowy as its flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So once, and now must love allow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grave chest such a dower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest shoot of noble root<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A blast could overpower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis woman's meed for chieftain's deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bids our eyes to shower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beseems his grief the princely chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who reins the charger's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gives the gale the silken sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That flaps the standard's side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from the hall where sheds at call,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The generous shell its tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the tower where Meiners'<a name="vol2FNanchor_147_147" id="vol2FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_147_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prevails, brought home such bride.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_343" id="vol2Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2THE_DAY_OF_CULLODEN" id="vol2THE_DAY_OF_CULLODEN"></a>THE DAY OF CULLODEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, the wound of my breast! Sinks my heart to the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rain-drops of sorrow are watering the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So impassive to hear, never pierces my ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or briskly or slowly, the music of sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, what tidings can charm, while emotion is warm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the thought of my Prince on his travel unknown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal in blood, by misfortune subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the base-born<a name="vol2FNanchor_148_148" id="vol2FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_148_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> by hosts is secured on the throne?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the hound is the race that has wrought our disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet the boast of the litter of mongrels is small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the arm of your might makes it boast of our flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the musters that failed at the moment of call—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Five banners were furl'd that might challenge the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of their silk not a pennon was spread to the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is Cromarty's earl, with the fearless of peril,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young Barisdale's following, Mackinnon's array?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sons of the glen,<a name="vol2FNanchor_149_149" id="vol2FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> the Clan-gregor, in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That never were hail'd to the carnage of war—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Macvurich,<a name="vol2FNanchor_150_150" id="vol2FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> the child of victory styled?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How we sigh'd when we learn'd that his host was afar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clan-donuil,<a name="vol2FNanchor_151_151" id="vol2FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a> my bosom friend, woe that the blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That crests your proud standard, for once disappear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor marshall'd your march, where your princely deserts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without stain might the cause of the right have uprear'd!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_344" id="vol2Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And now I say woe, for the sad overthrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the clan that is honour'd with Frazer's<a name="vol2FNanchor_152_152" id="vol2FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_152_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Farquharsons<a name="vol2FNanchor_153_153" id="vol2FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> bold on the Mar-braes enroll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So ready to rise, and so trusty to stand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But redoubled are shed my tears for the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I think of Clan-chattan,<a name="vol2FNanchor_154_154" id="vol2FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> the foremost in fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, woe for the time that has shrivell'd their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And woe that the left<a name="vol2FNanchor_155_155" id="vol2FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_155_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> had not stood at the right!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sorrows bemoan gentle Donuil the Donn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Alister Rua the king of the feast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And valorous Raipert the chief of the true-heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who fought till the beat of its energy ceased.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mist of that night vanish'd stars that were bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor by tally nor price shall their worth be replaced;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, boded the morning of our brave unreturning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When it drifted the clouds in the rush of its blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we march'd on the hill, such the floods that distil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turning dry bent to bog, and to plash-pools the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That friendly no more was the ridge of the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor free to our tread, and the ire of the weather<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_345" id="vol2Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Anon was inflamed by the lightning untamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the hail rush that storm'd from the mouth of the gun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard pelted the stranger, ere we measured our danger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And broadswords were masterless, marr'd, and undone.<a name="vol2FNanchor_156_156" id="vol2FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_156_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure as answers my song to its title, a wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To our forces, the wiles of the traitor<a name="vol2FNanchor_157_157" id="vol2FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_157_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> have wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To each true man's disgust, the leader in trust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has barter'd his honour, and infamy bought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His gorget he spurns, and his mantle<a name="vol2FNanchor_158_158" id="vol2FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_158_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> he turns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And for gold he is won, to his sovereign untrue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a turn of the wheel to the liar will deal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the south or the north, the award of his due.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell William,<a name="vol2FNanchor_159_159" id="vol2FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_159_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a> the son of the man on the throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be his emblem the leafless, the marrowless tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May no sapling his root, and his branches no fruit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afford to his hope; and his hearth, let it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As barren and bare—not a partner to share,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not a brother to love, not a babe to embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute the harp, and the taper be smother'd in vapour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Egypt, the darkness and loss of his race!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, yet shall the eye see thee swinging on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy head shall be pillow'd where ravens shall prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lieges each one, from the child to the man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The monarch by right shall with fondness obey.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_346" id="vol2Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2JOHN_MORRISON" id="vol2JOHN_MORRISON"></a>JOHN MORRISON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>a +diligence</i> to be executed against one of the clan Frazer. A design to +waylay and murder the official employed in the <i>diligence</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_347" id="vol2Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol2MY_BEAUTY_DARK" id="vol2MY_BEAUTY_DARK"></a>MY BEAUTY DARK.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My beauty dark, my glossy bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark beauty, do not leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They call thee dark, but to my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'rt milky white, believe me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas at the tide of Candlemas,<a name="vol2FNanchor_160_160" id="vol2FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#vol2Footnote_160_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came tirling at my door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image of a lovely lass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That haunts me evermore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside my sleeping couch she stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now she mars my rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as I try the solemn mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She hunts it from my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At lecture and at study<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ankle white I span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sandal slim, its lacings trim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fay I seem to scan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty 's like a drift of spray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dashes to the side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like the silver-tail'd that play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their gambols in the tide.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_348" id="vol2Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As heaps of snow on mountain brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shed the clouds their fleece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or churn of waves when tempest raves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy swelling limbs in grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy eyes are black as berries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cheeks are waxen dyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on thy temple tarries<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The raven's dusk, my pride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gives light below each slim eye-brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A swelling orb of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In April meads so glance the beads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In May the honey-dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark, tangled, deep, no drifted heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sheaf-like, neatly bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy tresses seem, in braids, or stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As bright thine ears around.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those raven spires of hair, that fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That turret-bosom's shine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False friends! from me that banish'd thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who fain would call thee mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No lilts I spin, their love to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The viol strings I shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lend thine ear and thou shalt hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My wisdom, dearest one!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_349" id="vol2Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2ROBERT_MACKAY" id="vol2ROBERT_MACKAY"></a>ROBERT MACKAY.</h2> + +<h3><a name="vol2THE_HIGHLANDERS_HOME_SICKNESS" id="vol2THE_HIGHLANDERS_HOME_SICKNESS"></a>THE HIGHLANDER'S HOME SICKNESS.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Easy is my pillow press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, oh! I cannot, cannot rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Northwards do the shrill winds blow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thither do my musings go!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Better far with thee in groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the young deers sportive roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than where, counting cattle droves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I must sickly sigh for home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great the love I bear for her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the north winds wander free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sportive, kindly is her air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride and folly none hath she!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I hiding from my foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye, though fifty men were near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should find concealment close<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the shieling of my dear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_350" id="vol2Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty's daughter! oh, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Days when homewards I 'll repair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyful time to thee and me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair girl with the waving hair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glorious all for hunting then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rocky ridge, the hill, the fern;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet to drag the deer that 's slain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Downwards by the piper's cairn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the west field 'twas I told<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love, with parting on my tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long she 'll linger in that fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the kine assembled long!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear to me the woods I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far from Crieff my musings are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still with sheep my memories go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On our heath of knolls afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for red-streak'd rocks so lone!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, in spring, the young fawns leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crags where winds have blown—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cheaply I should find my sleep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'>END OF VOL. II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_351" id="vol2Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol2GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + +<p><i>Aboon</i>, above.</p> + +<p><i>Ava</i>, at all.</p> + +<p><i>Baldron</i>, name for a cat.</p> + +<p><i>Bauld</i>, bold.</p> + +<p><i>Bawbee</i>, halfpenny.</p> + +<p><i>Bawsint</i>, a white spot on the forehead of cow or horse.</p> + +<p><i>Bawtie</i>, name for a dog.</p> + +<p><i>Beild</i>, shelter, refuge, protection.</p> + +<p><i>Ben</i>, the spence or parlour.</p> + +<p><i>Blethers</i>, nonsensical talk.</p> + +<p><i>Blewart</i>, a flower, the blue bottle, witch bells.</p> + +<p><i>Bob</i>, nosegay, bunch, or tuft; also to curtsey.</p> + +<p><i>Bobbin</i>, a weaver's quill or pirn.</p> + +<p><i>Bonspiel</i>, a match at archery, curling, golf, or foot-ball.</p> + +<p><i>Bourtree</i>, the elder tree or shrub.</p> + +<p><i>Braggin</i>, boasting.</p> + +<p><i>Braken</i>, the female fern (<i>pterisaquilina</i>, Linn.)</p> + +<p><i>Bree</i>, the eyebrow.</p> + +<p><i>Brochin</i>, oatmeal boiled in water till somewhat thicker than gruel.</p> + +<p><i>Brogues</i>, shoes made of sheepskin.</p> + +<p><i>Bught</i>, a pen for sheep.</p> + +<p><i>Burn</i>, a stream.</p> + +<p><i>Buskit</i>, dressed tidily.</p> + +<p><i>Buss</i>, a bush.</p> + +<p><i>Cairny</i>, heap of stones.</p> + +<p><i>Camstrarie</i>, froward, cross, and unmanageable.</p> + +<p><i>Cantrips</i>, spells, charms, incantations.</p> + +<p><i>Carline</i>, an old woman.</p> + +<p><i>Chap</i>, a blow, also a young fellow.</p> + +<p><i>Cleading</i>, clothing.</p> + +<p><i>Cleck</i>, to hatch, to breed.</p> + +<p><i>Clout</i>, to strike with the hand, also to mend a hole in clothes or +shoes.</p> + +<p><i>Coof</i>, a fool.</p> + +<p><i>Coost</i>, cast.</p> + +<p><i>Corrie</i>, a hollow in a hill.</p> + +<p><i>Cosie</i>, warm, snug.</p> + +<p><i>Cower</i>, to crouch, to stoop.</p> + +<p><i>Cranreugh</i>, the hoarfrost.</p> + +<p><i>Croodle</i>, to coo as a dove, to sing with a low voice.</p> + +<p><i>Crowdy</i>, meal and cold water stirred together.</p> + +<p><i>Dab</i>, to peck as birds do.</p> + +<p><i>Daddy</i>, father.</p> + +<p><i>Daff</i>, to make sport.</p> + +<p><i>Dantit</i>, subdued, tamed down.</p> + +<p><i>Dawtie</i>, a pet, a darling.</p> + +<p><i>Doo</i>, dove.</p> + +<p><i>Dool</i>, grief.</p> + +<p><i>Doops</i>, dives down.</p> + +<p><i>Downa</i>, expressive of inability.</p> + +<p><i>Dreeping</i>, dripping, wet.</p> + +<p><i>Drucket</i>, drenched.</p> + +<p><i>Drumly</i>, muddy.</p> + +<p><i>Dub</i>, a mire.</p> + +<p><i>Dumpish</i>, short and thick.</p> + +<p><i>Eild</i>, old.</p> + +<p><i>Eirie</i>, dreading things supernatural.</p> + +<p><i>Eithly</i>, easily.</p> + +<p><i>Ettled</i>, aimed.</p> + +<p><i>Fardin</i>, farthing.</p> + +<p><i>Feckly</i>, mostly.</p> + +<p><i>Fend</i>, to provide for oneself, also to defend.</p> + +<p><i>Fleeched</i>, flattered, deceived.</p> + +<p><i>Forby</i>, besides.</p> + +<p><i>Freenge</i>, fringe.</p> + +<p><i>Fremmit</i>, strange, foreign.</p> + +<p><i>Gabbin</i>, jeering.</p> + +<p><i>Ganger</i>, a pedestrian.</p> + +<p><i>Gar</i>, compel.</p> + +<p><i>Gaucie</i>, plump, jolly.</p> + +<p><i>Gawkie</i>, a foolish female.</p> + +<p><i>Gie</i>, give.</p> + +<p><i>Glamour</i>, the influence of a charm.</p> + +<p><i>Glint</i>, a glance.</p> + +<p><i>Gloaming</i>, the evening twilight.</p> + +<p><i>Glower</i>, to look staringly.</p> + +<p><i>Glum</i>, gloomy.</p> + +<p><i>Gowd</i>, gold.</p> + +<p><i>Graffs</i>, graves.</p> + +<p><i>Graith</i>, gear.</p> + +<p><i>Grane</i>, groan.</p> + +<p><i>Grat</i>, wept.</p> + +<p><i>Grecie</i>, a little pig.</p> + +<p><i>Grup</i>, grasp.</p> + +<p><i>Haet</i>, a whit.</p> + +<p><i>Hauds</i>, holds.</p> + +<p><i>Hecht</i>, called, named.</p> + +<p><i>Heftit</i>, familiarised to a place.</p> + +<p><i>Hie</i>, high.</p> + +<p><i>Hinney</i>, honey, also a term of endearment.</p> + +<p><i>Hirple</i>, to walk haltingly.</p> + +<p><i>Howe</i>, hollow.</p> + +<p><i>Howkit</i>, dug.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol2Page_352" id="vol2Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Howlet</i>, an owl.</p> + +<p><i>Hurkle</i>, to bow down to.</p> + +<p><i>Ilka</i>, each.</p> + +<p><i>Jaupit</i>, bespattered.</p> + +<p><i>Jeel</i>, jelly.</p> + +<p><i>Jimp</i>, neat, slender.</p> + +<p><i>Kaim</i>, comb.</p> + +<p><i>Ken</i>, know.</p> + +<p><i>Keust</i>, threw off.</p> + +<p><i>Kippered</i>, salmon salted, hung and dried.</p> + +<p><i>Kith</i>, acquaintance.</p> + +<p><i>Kittle</i>, difficult, uncertain.</p> + +<p><i>Kye</i>, cows.</p> + +<p><i>Laigh</i>, low.</p> + +<p><i>Laith</i>, loth.</p> + +<p><i>Lapt</i>, enwrapped.</p> + +<p><i>Leeve</i>, live.</p> + +<p><i>Leeze me</i>, a term of congratulatory endearment.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, the sky.</p> + +<p><i>Loof</i>, the palm of the hands.</p> + +<p><i>Lowe</i>, flame.</p> + +<p><i>Lucken</i>, webbed.</p> + +<p><i>Lugs</i>, ears.</p> + +<p><i>Lum</i>, a chimney.</p> + +<p><i>Lure</i>, allure.</p> + +<p><i>Lyart</i>, of a mixed colour, gray.</p> + +<p><i>Mawn</i>, mown, a basket.</p> + +<p><i>May</i>, maiden.</p> + +<p><i>Mense</i>, honour, discretion.</p> + +<p><i>Mickle</i>, much.</p> + +<p><i>Mim</i>, prim, prudish.</p> + +<p><i>Mirk</i>, darkness.</p> + +<p><i>Mools</i>, dust, the earth of the grave.</p> + +<p><i>Mullin</i>, crumb.</p> + +<p><i>Mutch</i>, woman's cap.</p> + +<p><i>Naig</i>, a castrated horse.</p> + +<p><i>Neive</i>, the fist.</p> + +<p><i>Niddered</i>, stunted in growth.</p> + +<p><i>Niffer</i>, to exchange.</p> + +<p><i>Nip</i>, to pinch.</p> + +<p><i>Oons</i>, wounds.</p> + +<p><i>Opt</i>, opened.</p> + +<p><i>Outower</i>, outover, also moreover.</p> + +<p><i>Owk</i>, week.</p> + +<p><i>Owsen</i>, oxen.</p> + +<p><i>Paitrick</i>, partridge.</p> + +<p><i>Pawkie</i>, cunning, sly.</p> + +<p><i>Pleugh</i>, plough.</p> + +<p><i>Pliskie</i>, a trick.</p> + +<p><i>Rax</i>, reach.</p> + +<p><i>Rede</i>, to counsel—advice, wisdom.</p> + +<p><i>Reefer</i>, river.</p> + +<p><i>Reft</i>, bereft, deprived.</p> + +<p><i>Rocklay</i>, a short cloak or surplice.</p> + +<p><i>Roke</i>, a distaff, also to swing.</p> + +<p><i>Rowes</i>, rolls.</p> + +<p><i>Runts</i>, the trunks of trees, the stem of colewort.</p> + +<p><i>Saughs</i>, willow-trees.</p> + +<p><i>Scowl</i>, to frown.</p> + +<p><i>Scrimpit</i>, contracted.</p> + +<p><i>Scroggie</i>, abounding with stunted bushes.</p> + +<p><i>Shanks-naigie,</i> to travel on foot.</p> + +<p><i>Sheiling</i>, a temporary cottage or hut.</p> + +<p><i>Sinsyne</i>, after that period.</p> + +<p><i>Skipt</i>, went lightly and swiftly along.</p> + +<p><i>Sleekit</i>, cunning.</p> + +<p><i>Slockin</i>, to allay thirst.</p> + +<p><i>Smoored</i>, smothered.</p> + +<p><i>Soughs</i>, applied to the breathing a tune, also the sighing of the wind.</p> + +<p><i>Sowdie</i>, a heterogeneous mess.</p> + +<p><i>Speer</i>, ask.</p> + +<p><i>Spulzien</i>, spoiling.</p> + +<p><i>Squinting</i>, looking obliquely.</p> + +<p><i>Staigie</i>, the diminutive of staig, a young horse.</p> + +<p><i>Starn</i>, star.</p> + +<p><i>Swither</i>, to hesitate.</p> + +<p><i>Tane</i>, the one of two.</p> + +<p><i>Tent</i>, care.</p> + +<p><i>Tether</i>, halter.</p> + +<p><i>Teuch</i>, tough.</p> + +<p><i>Theek</i>, thatch.</p> + +<p><i>Thole</i>, to endure.</p> + +<p><i>Thraw</i>, to throw, to twist.</p> + +<p><i>Thrawart</i>, froward, perverse.</p> + +<p><i>Timmer</i>, timber.</p> + +<p><i>Tint</i>, lost.</p> + +<p><i>Toom</i>, empty.</p> + +<p><i>Tout</i>, shout.</p> + +<p><i>Tramps</i>, heavy-footed travellers.</p> + +<p><i>Trig</i>, neat, trim.</p> + +<p><i>Trow</i>, to make believe.</p> + +<p><i>Tyne</i>, lose.</p> + +<p><i>Wabster</i>, weaver.</p> + +<p><i>Wae</i>, sad, sorrowful.</p> + +<p><i>Warsled</i>, wrestled.</p> + +<p><i>Wat</i>, wet, also to know.</p> + +<p><i>Waukrife</i>, watchful, sleepless.</p> + +<p><i>Weir</i>, war, also to herd.</p> + +<p><i>Whilk</i>, which.</p> + +<p><i>Wysed</i>, enticed.</p> + +<p><i>Yate</i>, gate.</p> + +<p><i>Yeldrin</i>, a yellow hammer.</p> + +<p><i>Yird</i>, earth, soil.</p> + +<p><i>Yirthen</i>, earthen.</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_1_1" id="vol2Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_2_2" id="vol2Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Highland Society's Report on Ossian, pp. 16-20.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_3_3" id="vol2Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Genealogists or Antiquaries.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_4_4" id="vol2Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Letter from Sir James Macdonald to Dr Blair.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_5_5" id="vol2Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> M'Callum's "Collection," p. 207. See also Smith's "Sean +Dana, or Gaelic Antiquities;" Gillies' "Collection" and Clark's +"Caledonian Bards."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_6_6" id="vol2Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Highland Society's Report on Ossian, pp. 99, 105, 112.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_7_7" id="vol2Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Boswell's "Life of Johnson," p. 320, Croker's edition, +1847.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_8_8" id="vol2Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "Poems by Mrs Grant of Laggan," p. 395, Edinburgh, 1803, +8vo. The original is to be found in the Gaelic collections.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_9_9" id="vol2Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Mrs Grant's Poems, p. 371; Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," p. +1.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_10_10" id="vol2Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> See Mrs Grant's "Highland Superstitions," vol. ii. p. 249. +The original is contained in Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_11_11" id="vol2Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> See Johnson's "Journey to the Western Islands."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_12_12" id="vol2Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Stewart's Collection, p. 1.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_13_13" id="vol2Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Report on Ossian, p. 92. Sir Duncan Campbell fell at the +battle of Flodden, Lady Campbell afterwards married Gilbert, Earl of +Cassillis.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_14_14" id="vol2Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Mrs Grant's "Highland Superstitions," vol. ii. p. 196.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_15_15" id="vol2Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Mrs Ogilvie's "Highland Minstrelsy." For the original see +Turner's Collection, p. 186.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_16_16" id="vol2Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Reid's "Bibliotheca Scotica Celtica." Mackenzie's "Gaelic +Poets," p. 36.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_17_17" id="vol2Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_18_18" id="vol2Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," pp. 24, 59, 77, 77, 151; +Turner's "Gaelic Collection," <i>passim.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_19_19" id="vol2Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> See the beautiful verses translated by the Marchioness of +Northampton from "Ha tighinn fodham," in "Albyn's Anthology," or +Croker's "Boswell."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_20_20" id="vol2Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Mackenzie's "Gaelic Poets," p. 56.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_21_21" id="vol2Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Johnson's Works, vol. xii. p. 291.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_22_22" id="vol2Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Poems, Chambers' People's Edition, p. 134.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_23_23" id="vol2Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Armstrong's "Gaelic Dictionary," p. 63.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_24_24" id="vol2Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> <i>Edinburgh Review</i> on Mitford's "Harmony of Language," +vol. vi. p. 383.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_25_25" id="vol2Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Brown's "History of the Highlands," vol. i. p. 89.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_26_26" id="vol2Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Armstrong's "Gaelic Dictionary," p. 64.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_27_27" id="vol2Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> See also Logan's "Scottish Gael," vol. ii. p. 252.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_28_28" id="vol2Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> The Shepherd entertained the belief that he was born on +the 25th of January 1772.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_29_29" id="vol2Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Mr Macturk is well remembered in Dumfriesshire as a person +of remarkable shrewdness and unbounded generosity.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_30_30" id="vol2Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Mr Gray was the author of "Cona, or the Vale of Clywyd," +"A Sabbath among the Mountains," and other poems.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_31_31" id="vol2Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The ballad of "Gilmanscleuch" appeared in "The Mountain +Bard." See "The Ettrick Shepherd's Poems," vol. ii., p. 203. Blackie and +Son.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_32_32" id="vol2Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> "The Poetic Mirror," for which the Shepherd had begun to +collect contributions.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_33_33" id="vol2Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Jeffrey reviewed Wordsworth's "Excursion" in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> for November 1814, and certainly had never used more +declamatory language against any poem.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_34_34" id="vol2Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> 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 <i>nettle</i> 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 <i>kindred</i> 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!"—<i>Life and Correspondence +of Robert Southey, edited by his Son</i>, vol. iv., p. 93. London: 6 vols. +8vo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_35_35" id="vol2Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> The first edition of "Roderick" was in quarto,—a shape +which the Shepherd deemed unsuitable for poetry.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_36_36" id="vol2Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Murray of Abermarle Street, the famous publisher.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_37_37" id="vol2Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_38_38" id="vol2Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> See Hogg's autobiography, prefixed to the fifth volume of +Blackie's edition of his poems, p. 107.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_39_39" id="vol2Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> See the Works of Professor Wilson, edited by his +Son-in-law, Professor Ferrier, vol. i., p. xvi. Edinburgh: 1855. 8vo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_40_40" id="vol2Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> 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, <i><a href="#vol3ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM">postea</a></i>).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_41_41" id="vol2Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Thomas Mouncey Cunningham. See <i><a href="#vol2THOMAS_MOUNSEY_CUNNINGHAM">postea</a></i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_42_42" id="vol2Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> 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: "<i>Edin., April 23d, 1815.</i>—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 <i>Wilson</i>, and <i>Campbell</i>, +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 <i>steam</i>, 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_43_43" id="vol2Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_44_44" id="vol2Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> See "Memoir and Correspondence of Mrs Grant of Laggan." +1844.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_45_45" id="vol2Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_46_46" id="vol2Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> "The Domestic Memoirs and Private Life of Sir Walter +Scott, by James Hogg," p. 118. Glasgow, 1834. 16mo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_47_47" id="vol2Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, vol. iv., p. 521.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_48_48" id="vol2Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Mr H. S. Riddell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_49_49" id="vol2Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Mr J. G. Lockhart.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_50_50" id="vol2Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_51_51" id="vol2Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> 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.—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_52_52" id="vol2Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> For the fine original air, see Purdie's "Border +Garland."—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_53_53" id="vol2Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_54_54" id="vol2Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> 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.—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_55_55" id="vol2Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> 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."—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_56_56" id="vol2Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> I versified this song at Meggernie Castle, in Glen-Lyon, +from a scrap of prose said to be the translation, <i>verbatim</i>, 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."—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_57_57" id="vol2Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Altered at the request of a lady who sang it sweetly, and +published in the "Jacobite Relics."—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_58_58" id="vol2Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> 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.—<i>Hogg.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_59_59" id="vol2Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_60_60" id="vol2Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> This song was addressed, in 1811, to Miss Margaret +Phillips, who in nine years afterwards became the poet's wife.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_61_61" id="vol2Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> 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!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_62_62" id="vol2Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_63_63" id="vol2Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> A beverage composed of honey dissolved in whisky.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_64_64" id="vol2Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> These simple stanzas, conveying such an excellent <i>morale</i> +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 <i>board</i> +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 <i>Robin</i>, who +regularly came to enjoy the bounty of his benefactress. This lyric, and +those following, are printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_65_65" id="vol2Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> 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 <i>lion beaker</i> of Glammis, the prototype of the +<i>silver bear</i> of Tully-Veolan, "the <i>poculum potatorium</i> of the valiant +baron."—(See <i>Note</i> to Waverley, and Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter +Scott).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_66_66" id="vol2Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> The whip is now in the custody of Mr George Lyon, of +Stirling, the author's son.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_67_67" id="vol2Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_68_68" id="vol2Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> This song is here printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_69_69" id="vol2Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> Mr James Chambers, of Peebles, who died in 1824.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_70_70" id="vol2Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> A song of this title was composed by Robert Fergusson.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_71_71" id="vol2Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_72_72" id="vol2Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_73_73" id="vol2Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> "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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_74_74" id="vol2Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> The English pronouncing the name of this river <i>Stinkar</i>, +induced the poet Burns to change it to Lugar.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_75_75" id="vol2Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> See Semple's "Continuation of Crawford's History of +Renfrewshire," p. 116.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_76_76" id="vol2Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_77_77" id="vol2Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> "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 <i>lownly</i>, +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 <i>Musical +Magazine</i>, 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_78_78" id="vol2Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_79_79" id="vol2Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_80_80" id="vol2Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> 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:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">They were set by Charlie Marshall,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And pu'd by Nannie Laird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_81_81" id="vol2Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> The Braes of Gleniffer are a tract of hilly ground, to the +south of Paisley. They are otherwise known as Stanley Braes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_82_82" id="vol2Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_83_83" id="vol2Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> 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:"— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While the lads of the south<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toil for bare worldly treasure—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the lads of the north<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every day brings its pleasure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, blithe are the joys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the Highlandman possesses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He feels no annoys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he fears no distresses."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_84_84" id="vol2Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> This expression commonly means, the direction in which the +clouds are carried by the wind, but it is here used to denote the +firmament.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_85_85" id="vol2Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_86_86" id="vol2Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Craigie Lea is situated to the north-west of Paisley.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_87_87" id="vol2Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_88_88" id="vol2Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> Composed in 1804. This song and those following, by Dr +Duncan, are here published for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_89_89" id="vol2Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> Written in 1805, when the nation was in apprehension of +the French invasion.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_90_90" id="vol2Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Composed in 1807.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_91_91" id="vol2Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> Composed in 1830.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_92_92" id="vol2Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_93_93" id="vol2Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> The keys here alluded to were, at a recent period, found +in the lake.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_94_94" id="vol2Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_95_95" id="vol2Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> 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.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_96_96" id="vol2Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> 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.'"—<i>Lockhart's Life of Scott.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_97_97" id="vol2Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> Set to music by R. A. Smith.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_98_98" id="vol2Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> Another copy has since been discovered.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_99_99" id="vol2Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> 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:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And a' that e'er my Jenny had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Jenny had, my Jenny had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' that e'er my Jenny had,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Was ae bawbee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's your plack and my plack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your plack and my plack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my plack and your plack,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Jenny's bawbee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll put it in the pint stoup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pint stoup, the pint stoup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll put it in the pint stoup,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And birl 't a' three."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_100_100" id="vol2Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_101_101" id="vol2Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> These verses, which form a translation of <i>Freùt euch des +Libens</i>, were written at Leipsig in 1795, when the author was on his +continental tour. He was then in his twentieth year.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_102_102" id="vol2Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Contributed to the fourth volume of Mr George Thomson's +Collection.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_103_103" id="vol2Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_104_104" id="vol2Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> 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.—<i>Note by the Author.</i> "The Highlander" is set to a Gaelic +air in the fifth volume of R. A. Smith's "Scottish Minstrel."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_105_105" id="vol2Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> See <i>Scottish Monthly Magazine</i>, August 1836.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_106_106" id="vol2Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Written when the author was quite a youth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_107_107" id="vol2Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> 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 <i>Scots Magazine</i> for 1807, p. 448. </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_108_108" id="vol2Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Ballahun is a romantic glen, near Blackwood House, on the +river Nith.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_109_109" id="vol2Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> The Clouden is a stream which flows into the Nith, at +Lincluden College, near Dumfries.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_110_110" id="vol2Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Cromeck in his "Reliques," erroneously attributes this +song to Burns.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_111_111" id="vol2Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_112_112" id="vol2Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> The memoir of Mrs G. G. Richardson has been kindly +supplied by her accomplished relative, Mrs Macarthur, Hillhead, near +Glasgow.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_113_113" id="vol2Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_114_114" id="vol2Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Mr Train published, in 1806, a small volume, entitled +"Poetical Reveries."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_115_115" id="vol2Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_116_116" id="vol2Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> The last stanza of this song has, on account of its +Bacchanalian tendency, been omitted.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_117_117" id="vol2Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> The braes of Bedlay are in the neighbourhood of Chryston, +about seven miles north of Glasgow.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_118_118" id="vol2Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_119_119" id="vol2Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> The clan badge is a tuft of heather.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_120_120" id="vol2Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> The Macdonalds claimed the right wing in battle.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_121_121" id="vol2Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> A lion rampant is their cognizance; gules.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_122_122" id="vol2Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> Their original patronymic, from, we suppose, <i>Old King +Coul</i>; Coll, or Colla, is a common name in the tribe.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_123_123" id="vol2Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> The "Mire Chatta," or battle-dance, denotes the frenzy, +supposed to animate the combatants, during the period of excitement.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_124_124" id="vol2Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> The clan consisted of many septs, whose rights of +precedence are not quite ascertained; as Sleat, Clanronald, Glengarry, +Keppoch, and Glencoe.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_125_125" id="vol2Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> <i>Lit.</i> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_126_126" id="vol2Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> The armorial emblem was gules.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_127_127" id="vol2Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> Prince Charles Edward was expected.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_128_128" id="vol2Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> Dress ornaments are much prized by the humbler Gael, and +make a great figure in their poetry.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_129_129" id="vol2Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> The most frequent of all song-images in Gaelic, is the +description of yellow or auburn hair.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_130_130" id="vol2Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> We must suppose some sylvan social occupation, as +oak-peeling or the like, in which Morag and her associates had been +employed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_131_131" id="vol2Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_132_132" id="vol2Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Mull.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_133_133" id="vol2Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_134_134" id="vol2Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> The gannet, or the <i>stranger-bird</i>, from his foreign +derivation and periodic visits to the Islands.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_135_135" id="vol2Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> A snowy grass, well known in the moors.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_136_136" id="vol2Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> <i>Lit.</i>, On the day of devotion.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_137_137" id="vol2Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> The mainland, or <i>terra firma</i>, is called Morir by the +islanders.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_138_138" id="vol2Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> Here Morag's musical performance on the flute, form the +subject of a panegyric, in which Urlar, Siubhal, and Crunluath are +imitated.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_139_139" id="vol2Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> "Round as the shield of my fathers."—<i>Ossian</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_140_140" id="vol2Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> The French military costume, distinguished by its white +colour, was assumed by the Jacobites.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_141_141" id="vol2Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> "Come, and I will give you flesh," a Highland war-cry +invoking the birds and beasts of prey to their bloody revel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_142_142" id="vol2Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> Macdonald of Sleat, Macleod, and others, first hesitated, +and finally withheld themselves from the party of the white cockade.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_143_143" id="vol2Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> Flag.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_144_144" id="vol2Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_144_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> Warrior.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_145_145" id="vol2Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> Lovat and his clan.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_146_146" id="vol2Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> See the Rev. Patrick Macdonald's Collection, No. 106.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_147_147" id="vol2Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> 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 +<i>Meini</i>, or <i>Meinarach</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_148_148" id="vol2Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_148_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_149_149" id="vol2Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_149_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> <i>Glengyle</i>, and his Macgregors, were on their way from +the Sutherland expedition, but did not reach in time to take part in the +action.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_150_150" id="vol2Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Macpherson of Clunie, the hero of the night skirmish at +Clifton, and with his clan, greatly distinguished in the Jacobite wars.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_151_151" id="vol2Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_151_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> Macdonald of the Isles refused to join the Prince.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_152_152" id="vol2Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_152_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_153_153" id="vol2Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_153_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> The Farquharsons formed part of the unfortunate right +wing in the battle, and suffered severely.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_154_154" id="vol2Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_155_155" id="vol2Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_156_156" id="vol2Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> The unfortunate night-march of the Highlanders is +described with historic truth and great poetic effect.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_157_157" id="vol2Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> Roy Stuart lived and died in the belief (most unfounded, +it seems), that Lord George Murray was bribed and his army betrayed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_158_158" id="vol2Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> Military orders received from the Court of St Germains.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_159_159" id="vol2Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> The Duke of Cumberland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol2Footnote_160_160" id="vol2Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#vol2FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Evidently a Valentine morning surprise.</p></div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_iii_title.jpg" width="600" height="955" alt="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." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_iii_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="925" alt="Allan Cunningham. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Allan Cunningham.<br /> + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & M<sup>c</sup>Farlane.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. III.</p> + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI.</p> + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 50%;">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">LIEUTENANT-COLONEL</span><br /> +SIR JAMES EDWARD ALEXANDER,<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">K.L.S., AND K.ST.J.,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">A DISTINGUISHED TRAVELLER, A GALLANT OFFICER, AND +A PATRIOTIC SCOTSMAN,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THIS THIRD VOLUME</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OF</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Scottish Minstrel<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">IS DEDICATED,<br /> +<br /> +WITH SENTIMENTS OF RESPECT AND GRATITUDE,<br /> +<br /> +BY<br /> +<br /> +HIS VERY OBEDIENT, FAITHFUL SERVANT,<br /></span> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_v" id="vol3Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>SCOTTISH AND HELLENIC MINSTRELSY:<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">An Essay.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;"><span class="smcap">By</span> JAMES DONALDSON, A.M.</span></h2> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_vi" id="vol3Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_vii" id="vol3Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 suc<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_viii" id="vol3Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>cessors, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_ix" id="vol3Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_x" id="vol3Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xi" id="vol3Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xii" id="vol3Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His very foot has music in 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he comes up the stair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What man has an ear so delicate as to hear such music?</p> + +<p>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 devo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xiii" id="vol3Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span>tion 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_1_1" id="vol3FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xiv" id="vol3Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xv" id="vol3Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xvi" id="vol3Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xvii" id="vol3Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Joy sparkles to us from the bowl!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behold the juice, whose golden colour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meekness melts the savage soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gives despair a hero's valour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Up, brothers! Lo, we crown the cup!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, the wine flashes to the brim!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the bright foam spring heavenward! 'Up!'<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To the Good Spirit</span>—this glass to <span class="smcap">Him</span>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Chorus.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Praised by the ever-whirling ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of stars and tuneful seraphim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To the Good Spirit</span>—the Father-king<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In heaven!—this glass to Him!"<a name="vol3FNanchor_2_2" id="vol3FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xviii" id="vol3Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He who loves not women, wine, and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will be a fool his whole life long."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And yet he was. And his songs, sacred though most of them be, have a +place in German song-books to this day.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xix" id="vol3Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xx" id="vol3Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_3_3" id="vol3FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxi" id="vol3Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxii" id="vol3Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span></p> + +<p>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"<a name="vol3FNanchor_4_4" id="vol3FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxiii" id="vol3Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span> 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!</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxiv" id="vol3Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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,<a name="vol3FNanchor_5_5" id="vol3FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxv" id="vol3Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She 's backet like a peacock;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's breasted like a swan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's jimp about the middle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her waist you weel may span—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her waist you weel may span;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she has a rolling e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for bonnie Annie Laurie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'd lay down my head and die."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxvii" id="vol3Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_xxvi" id="vol3Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3CONTENTS" id="vol3CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol3ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM">ALLAN CUNNINGHAM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SHE_S_GANE_TO_DWALL_IN_HEAVEN">She 's gane to dwall in heaven,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_9">9</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_PRESTON_MILL">The lovely lass of Preston mill,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_10">10</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3GANE_WERE_BUT_THE_WINTER_CAULD">Gane were but the winter cauld,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_12">12</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3IT_S_HAME_AND_IT_S_HAME">It's hame, and it's hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_INVERNESS">The lovely lass of Inverness,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_14">14</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3A_WET_SHEET_AND_A_FLOWING_SEA">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_15">15</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BONNIE_BARK">The bonnie bark,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_16">16</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THOU_HAST_SWORN_BY_THY_GOD_MY_JEANIE">Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3YOUNG_ELIZA9">Young Eliza,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_19">19</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_WOMAN10">Lovely woman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_20">20</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3EBENEZER_PICKEN">EBENEZER PICKEN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3PEGGIE_WI_THE_GLANCIN_EE">Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WOO_ME_AGAIN">Woo me again,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_25">25</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3STUART_LEWIS">STUART LEWIS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_27">27</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3LANARK_MILLS">Lanark mills,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_30">30</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OER_THE_MUIR12">O'er the muir,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_31">31</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_DRUMMOND">DAVID DRUMMOND,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_34">34</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_LEVENSIDE">The bonnie lass o' Levenside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_36">36</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_AFFLECK">JAMES AFFLECK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_38">38</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3HOW_BLEST_WERE_THE_DAYS">How blest were the days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_39">39</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_STIRRAT">JAMES STIRRAT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_40">40</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3HENRY14">Henry,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MARY15">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_42">42</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_GRIEVE">JOHN GRIEVE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3CULLODEN_OR_LOCHIELS_FAREWELL">Culloden; or, Lochiel's Farewell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_MARY18">Lovely Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HER_BLUE_ROLLIN_EE">Her blue rollin' e'e,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3CHARLES_GRAY">CHARLES GRAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MAGGIE_LAUDER21">Maggie Lauder,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING">Charlie is my darling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BLACK-EED_LASSIE23">The black-e'ed lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3GRIM_WINTER_WAS_HOWLIN">Grim winter was howlin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_55">55</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_FINLAY">JOHN FINLAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_57">57</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3O_COME_WITH_ME">O! come with me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_59">59</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TIS_NOT_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_CHEEK">'Tis not the rose upon the cheek,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_60">60</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3I_HEARD_THE_EVENING_LINNETS_VOICE">I heard the evening linnet's voice,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_DEAR_WERE_THE_JOYS">Oh! dear were the joys,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_62">62</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_NICHOLSON">WILLIAM NICHOLSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BRAES_OF_GALLOWAY">The braes of Galloway,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HIGHLANDS">The hills of the Highlands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BANKS_OF_TARF">The banks of Tarf,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3O_WILL_YE_GO_TO_YON_BURN_SIDE">O! will ye go to yon burn-side?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_68">68</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ALEXANDER_RODGER">ALEXANDER RODGER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_71">71</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SWEET_BET_OF_ABERDEEN">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BEHAVE_YOURSEL_BEFORE_FOLK">Behave yoursel' before folk,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_74">74</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_MAIDEN">Lovely maiden,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_PEASANTS_FIRESIDE">The peasant's fireside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3AH_NO_I_CANNOT_SAY_FAREWELL">Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell,"</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_79">79</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_WILSON">JOHN WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_81">81</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MARY_GRAYS_SONG">Mary Gray's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_86">86</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_THREE_SEASONS_OF_LOVE">The three seasons of love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3PRAYER_TO_SLEEP">Prayer to Sleep, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_WEBSTER">DAVID WEBSTER, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3TAK_IT_MAN_TAK_IT">Tak it, man; tak it,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_SWEET_WERE_THE_HOURS">Oh, sweet were the hours,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_94">94</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3PATE_BIRNIE27">Pate Birnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_95">95</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_PARK">WILLIAM PARK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_97">97</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_PATRIOTS_SONG">The patriot's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_99">99</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3THOMAS_PRINGLE">THOMAS PRINGLE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_102">102</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_TO_BONNIE_TEVIOTDALE">Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILES_LAMENT">The exile's lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_107">107</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_AND_SOLITUDE">Love and solitude,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3COME_AWA_COME_AWA">Come awa', come awa',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_109">109</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3DEAREST_LOVE_BELIEVE_ME">Dearest love, believe me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_110">110</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_KNOX">WILLIAM KNOX,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_DEAR_LAND_OF_CAKES">The dear Land o' Cakes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LAMENT">The lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TO_MARY">To Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_THOM">WILLIAM THOM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIES_GRAVE">Jeanie's grave,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THEY_SPEAK_O_WILES">They speak o' wiles,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MITHERLESS_BAIRN30">The mitherless bairn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LASS_O_KINTORE">The lass o' Kintore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_124">124</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MY_HAMELESS_HA">My hameless ha',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_125">125</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_GLEN31">WILLIAM GLEN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3WAES_ME_FOR_PRINCE_CHARLIE33">Waes me for Prince Charlie!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_128">128</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3MARY_OF_SWEET_ABERFOYLE34">Mary of sweet Aberfoyle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BATTLE-SONG35">The battle-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MAID_OF_ORONSEY37">The maid of Oronsey,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3JESS_MLEAN38">Jess M'Lean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_EERILY_HOW_DREARILY">How eerily, how drearily,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_BATTLE_OF_VITTORIA39">The battle of Vittoria,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_SWEET_BETTY">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FAREWEEL_TO_ABERFOYLE">Fareweel to Aberfoyle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_141">141</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_VEDDER">DAVID VEDDER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIES_WELCOME_HAME">Jeanie's welcome hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3I_NEITHER_GOT_PROMISE_OF_SILLER">I neither got promise of siller,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THERE_IS_A_PANG_FOR_EVERY_HEART">There is a pang for every heart,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_148">148</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_FIRST_OF_MAY">The first of May,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3SONG_OF_THE_SCOTTISH_EXILE">Song of the Scottish exile,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_TEMPEST_IS_RAGING">The tempest is raging,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_TEMPLE_OF_NATURE40">The temple of nature,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_152">152</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_MDIARMID">JOHN M'DIARMID,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3NITHSIDE">Nithside,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_158">158</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3EVENING">Evening,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_159">159</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3PETER_BUCHAN">PETER BUCHAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_162">162</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THOU_GLOOMY_FEBERWAR41">Thou gloomy Feberwar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_164">164</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_FINLAY">WILLIAM FINLAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BREAKING_HEART">The breaking heart,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_AULD_EMIGRANTS_FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTLAND">The auld emigrant's fareweel to Scotland,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OER_MOUNTAIN_AND_VALLEY">O'er mountain and valley,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_169">169</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_GIBSON_LOCKHART">JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_171">171</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3BROADSWORDS_OF_SCOTLAND43">Broadswords of Scotland,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CAPTAIN_PATONS_LAMENT44">Captain Paton's lament,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_178">178</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CANADIAN_BOAT-SONG45">Canadian boat-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_183">183</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3THOMAS_MATHERS">THOMAS MATHERS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3EARLY_LOVE">Early love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_185">185</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_BROWN">JAMES BROWN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MY_PEGGY_S_FAR_AWAY">My Peggy's far away,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_BROUGHT_ME_A_BOUGH">Love brought me a bough,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_188">188</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_S_A_WI_YE">How 's a' wi' ye,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_SAIR_I_FEEL_THE_WITCHING_POWER">Oh! sair I feel the witching power,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_192">192</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DANIEL_WEIR">DANIEL WEIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_194">194</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SEE_THE_MOON">See the moon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3LOVE_IS_TIMID">Love is timid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3RAVENS_STREAM">Raven's stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3OH_OUR_CHILDHOODS_ONCE_DELIGHTFUL_HOURS">Oh! our childhood's once delightful hours,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3COULD_WE_BUT_LOOK_BEYOND_OUR_SPHERE">Could we but look beyond our sphere,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3IN_THE_MORNING_OF_LIFE">In the morning of life,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3ON_THE_DEATH_OF_A_PROMISING_CHILD">On the death of a promising child,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_DYING_HOUR">The dying hour,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND">The midnight wind,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_203">203</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_DAVIDSON">ROBERT DAVIDSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_206">206</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_TO_CALEDONIA">Farewell to Caledonia,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_207">207</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3ON_VISITING_THE_SCENES_OF_EARLY_DAYS">On visiting the scenes of early days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TO_WANDER_LANG_IN_FOREIGN_LANDS">To wander lang in foreign lands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_210">210</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3PETER_ROGER">PETER ROGER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3LOVELY_JEAN">Lovely Jean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_214">214</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_MALCOLM">JOHN MALCOLM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_MUSIC_OF_THE_NIGHT">The music of the night,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_217">217</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_SEA">The sea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_218">218</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ERSKINE_CONOLLY">ERSKINE CONOLLY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MARY_MACNEIL">Mary Macneil,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THERE_S_A_THRILL_OF_EMOTION">There 's a thrill of emotion,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_222">222</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3GEORGE_MENZIES">GEORGE MENZIES,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_BRAES_OF_AUCHINBLAE">The braes of Auchinblae,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_224">224</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FARE_THEE_WEEL">Fare thee weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_225">225</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JOHN_SIM">JOHN SIM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_226">226</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3NAE_MAIR_WE_LL_MEET">Nae mair we 'll meet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3BONNIE_PEGGY46">Bonnie Peggy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3NOW_MARY_NOW_THE_STRUGGLE_S_OER47">Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_229">229</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_MOTHERWELL">WILLIAM MOTHERWELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3JEANIE_MORRISON48">Jeanie Morrison,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_233">233</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WEARIES_WELL">Wearie's Well,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_236">236</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3WAE_BE_TO_THE_ORDERS">Wae be to the orders,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_238">238</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND_2">The midnight wind,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_239">239</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HE_IS_GONE_HE_IS_GONE">He is gone! he is gone!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_240">240</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3DAVID_MACBETH_MOIR">DAVID MACBETH MOIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3CASA_WAPPY49">Casa Wappy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FAREWELL_OUR_FATHERS_LAND">Farewell, our fathers' land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HEIGH-HO">Heigh ho,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_FRASER">ROBERT FRASER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_252">252</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3OH_I_LOED_MY_LASSIE_WEEL">Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_253">253</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_HISLOP">JAMES HISLOP,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_CAMERONIANS_DREAM">The Cameronian's dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3HOW_SWEET_THE_DEWY_BELL_IS_SPREAD">How sweet the dewy bell is spread,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_259">259</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3ROBERT_GILFILLAN">ROBERT GILFILLAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_261">261</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3MANOR_BRAES">Manor braes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_262">262</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3FARE_THEE_WELL">Fare thee well,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_FIRST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER">The first rose of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILES_SONG">The exile's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_HAPPY_DAYS_O_YOUTH">The happy days o' youth,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3TIS_SAIR_TO_DREAM">'Tis sair to dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_267">267</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol3WILLIAM_ROSS">WILLIAM ROSS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_HIGHLAND_MAY">The Highland May,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_272">272</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_CELT_AND_THE_STRANGER">The Celt and the stranger,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3CORMACS_CURE">Cormac's cure,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol3THE_LAST_LAY_OF_LOVE">The last lay of love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_276">276</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3LACHLAN_MACVURICH">LACHLAN MACVURICH,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_279">279</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3THE_EXILE_OF_CLUNY">The exile of Cluny,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_280">280</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol3JAMES_MLAGGAN">JAMES M'LAGGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_282">282</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol3SONG_OF_THE_ROYAL_HIGHLAND_REGIMENT">Song of the royal Highland regiment,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_284">284</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol3GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol3Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_1" id="vol3Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM" id="vol3ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM"></a>ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.</h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_6_6" id="vol3FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> He was the fourth son of his +parents, and from both of them inherited shrewdness and strong +talent.<a name="vol3FNanchor_7_7" id="vol3FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_2" id="vol3Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_3" id="vol3Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_4" id="vol3Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>Cunningham's elder brother Thomas, and his friend Hogg, were already +contributors to the <i>Scots' Magazine</i>. 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 <i>Hidallan</i>. 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 sus<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_5" id="vol3Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>pected, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>The Day</i> newspaper, +he was induced to lay aside the trowel and undertake the duties of +reporter to that journal. <i>The Day</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_6" id="vol3Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> began to contribute to <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, and from 1822 to 1824 +wrote largely for the <i>London Magazine</i>. 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_8_8" id="vol3FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> In 1836, he published "Lord Roldan," +a romance. From 1830 to 1834, he was a constant writer in <i>The +Athenæum</i>, 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_7" id="vol3Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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":—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Of the old elm his harp was made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bent o'er Cluden's loneliest shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gilded sculpture round her flamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his own hand that harp had framed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In stolen hours, when, labour done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stray'd to view the parting sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_8" id="vol3Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That harp could make the matron stare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bristle the peasant's hoary hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make patriot breasts with ardour glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warrior pant to meet the foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long by Nith the maidens young<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall chant the strains their minstrel sung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At ewe-bught, or at evening fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When resting on the daisied wold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Combing their locks of waving gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft the fair group, enrapt, shall name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lost, their darling Cunninghame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His was a song beloved in youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tale of weir, a tale of truth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_9" id="vol3Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3SHE_S_GANE_TO_DWALL_IN_HEAVEN" id="vol3SHE_S_GANE_TO_DWALL_IN_HEAVEN"></a>SHE 'S GANE TO DWALL IN HEAVEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's gane to dwall in heaven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ye 're owre pure," quo' the voice o' God,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"For dwalling out o' heaven!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what 'll she do in heaven, my lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, what 'll she do in heaven?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll mix her ain thoughts wi' angels' sangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make them mair meet for heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was beloved by a', my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was beloved by a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But an angel fell in love wi' her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' took her frae us a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowly there thou lies, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lowly there thou lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnier form ne'er went to the yird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor frae it will arise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fu' soon I 'll follow thee, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fu' soon I 'll follow thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou left me naught to covet ahin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But took gudeness sel' wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd on thy death-cold face, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I look'd on thy death-cold face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seem'd a lily new cut i' the bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fading in its place.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_10" id="vol3Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd on thy death-shut eye, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I look'd on thy death-shut eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a lovelier light in the brow of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fell Time shall ne'er destroy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy lips were ruddy and calm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gane was the holy breath o' Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sang the evening psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's naught but dust now mine, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's naught but dust now mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul 's wi' thee i' the cauld grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' why should I stay behin'?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_PRESTON_MILL" id="vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_PRESTON_MILL"></a>THE LOVELY LASS OF PRESTON MILL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lark had left the evening cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dew was soft, the wind was lowne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle breath amang the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scarce stirr'd the thistle's tap o' down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dappled swallow left the pool,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars were blinking owre the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I met amang the hawthorns green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her naked feet, amang the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem'd like twa dew-gemm'd lilies fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brow shone comely 'mang her locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark curling owre her shoulders bare;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_11" id="vol3Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks were rich wi' bloomy youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lips had words and wit at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven seem'd looking through her een,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quo' I, "Sweet lass, will ye gang wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where blackcocks crow, and plovers cry?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Six hills are woolly wi' my sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Six vales are lowing wi' my kye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have look'd lang for a weel-favour'd lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Nithsdale's holmes an' mony a hill;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hung her head like a dew-bent rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quo' I, "Sweet maiden, look nae down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But gie 's a kiss, and gang wi' me:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lovelier face, oh! never look'd up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tears were drapping frae her e'e:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I hae a lad, wha 's far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That weel could win a woman's will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart 's already fu' o' love,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now wha is he wha could leave sic a lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To seek for love in a far countrie?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tears drapp'd down like simmer dew:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fain wad kiss'd them frae her e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took but ane o' her comely cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"For pity's sake, kind sir, be still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is fu' o' ither love,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_12" id="vol3Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She stretch'd to heaven her twa white hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lifted up her watery e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sae lang 's my heart kens aught o' God,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or light is gladsome to my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While woods grow green, and burns rin clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till my last drap o' blood be still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart shall haud nae other love,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's comely maids on Dee's wild banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Nith's romantic vale is fu';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lanely Cluden's hermit stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dwells mony a gentle dame, I trow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, they are lights of a gladsome kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ever shone on vale or hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's a light puts them a' out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely lass of Preston Mill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3GANE_WERE_BUT_THE_WINTER_CAULD" id="vol3GANE_WERE_BUT_THE_WINTER_CAULD"></a>GANE WERE BUT THE WINTER CAULD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gane were but the winter cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gane were but the snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could sleep in the wild woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where primroses blaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cauld 's the snaw at my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cauld at my feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the finger o' death 's at my een,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Closing them to sleep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_13" id="vol3Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let nane tell my father,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or my mither dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll meet them baith in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the spring o' the year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3IT_S_HAME_AND_IT_S_HAME" id="vol3IT_S_HAME_AND_IT_S_HAME"></a>IT 'S HAME, AND IT 'S HAME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countrie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The green leaf o' loyalty 's beginning for to fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie white rose it is withering an' a':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' green it will grow in my ain countrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's naught now frae ruin my country to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the keys o' kind Heaven to open the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That a' the noble martyrs who died for loyaltie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May rise again and fight for their ain countrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I 'll shine on ye yet in your ain countrie."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's hame, an' it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' it 's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_14" id="vol3Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_INVERNESS" id="vol3THE_LOVELY_LASS_OF_INVERNESS"></a>THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There lived a lass in Inverness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was the pride of a' the town;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe as the lark on gowan-tap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When frae the nest but newly flown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At kirk she won the auld folks' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At dance she was the young men's een;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was the blithest aye o' the blithe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At wooster-trystes or Hallowe'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I came in by Inverness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The simmer-sun was sinking down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, there I saw the weel-faur'd lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she was greeting through the town:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gray-hair'd men were a' i' the streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And auld dames crying, (sad to see!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The flower o' the lads of Inverness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lie dead upon Culloden-lee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She tore her haffet-links of gowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dighted aye her comely e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My father's head 's on Carlisle wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At Preston sleep my brethren three!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought my heart could haud nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mae tears could ever blin' my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fa' o' ane has burst my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dearer ane there couldna be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He trysted me o' love yestreen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love-tokens he gave me three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he 's faulded i' the arms o' weir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, ne'er again to think o' me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_15" id="vol3Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The forest flowers shall be my bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My food shall be the wild berrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fa' o' the leaf shall co'er me cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wauken'd again I winna be."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh weep, oh weep, ye Scottish dames,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weep till ye blin' a mither's e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae reeking ha' in fifty miles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But naked corses, sad to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh spring is blithesome to the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trees sprout, flowers spring, and birds sing hie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! what spring can raise them up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lie on dread Culloden-lee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand o' God hung heavy here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lightly touch'd foul tyrannie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It struck the righteous to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lifted the destroyer hie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But there 's a day," quo' my God in prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"When righteousness shall bear the gree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll rake the wicked low i' the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wauken, in bliss, the gude man's e'e!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3A_WET_SHEET_AND_A_FLOWING_SEA" id="vol3A_WET_SHEET_AND_A_FLOWING_SEA"></a>A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wind that follows fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills the white and rustling sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bends the gallant mast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While, like the eagle free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old England on the lee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_16" id="vol3Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh for a soft and gentle wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear a fair one cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give to me the snoring breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And white waves heaving high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white waves heaving high, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The good ship tight and free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world of waters is our home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And merry men are we.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's tempest in yon hornèd moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lightning in yon cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hark the music, mariners!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wind is piping loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind is piping loud, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning flashing free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the hollow oak our palace is,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our heritage the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BONNIE_BARK" id="vol3THE_BONNIE_BARK"></a>THE BONNIE BARK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O come, my bonnie bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the waves let us go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thy neck like the swan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy wings like the snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread thy plumes to the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a gentle one soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must welcome us home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere the wane of the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The proud oak that built thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was nursed in the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my gentle one dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stately it grew.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_17" id="vol3Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I hew'd its beauty down;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now it swims on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wafts spice and perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fair one, to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sweet, sweet 's her voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a low warbled tune;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet, sweet her lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the rose-bud of June.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looks to sea, and sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the foamy wave flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And treads on men's strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in glory she goes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh haste, my bonnie bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the waves let us bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the deer from the horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the hare from the hound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck down thy white plumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sink thy keel in the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er ye see my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wave of her hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THOU_HAST_SWORN_BY_THY_GOD_MY_JEANIE" id="vol3THOU_HAST_SWORN_BY_THY_GOD_MY_JEANIE"></a>THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY JEANIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By that pretty white hand o' thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by a' the lowing stars in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou would aye be mine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_18" id="vol3Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by that kind heart o' thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou would aye be mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then foul fa' the hands that loose sic bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the heart that would part sic love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nae hand can loose my band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the finger o' God above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my claithing e'er sae mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her white arm wad be a pillow for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fu' safter than the down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweetly I 'll sleep, an' soun'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come here to me, thou lass o' my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come here and kneel wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I canna pray without thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard dyke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a blithe auld bodie is he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Beuk maun be ta'en when the carle comes hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the holie psalmodie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou maun speak o' me to thy God,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will speak o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_19" id="vol3Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3YOUNG_ELIZA9" id="vol3YOUNG_ELIZA9"></a>YOUNG ELIZA.<a name="vol3FNanchor_9_9" id="vol3FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This day of rest I 'll give to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clasp thy waist with many a vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My loved, my young Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not that cheek, that bosom bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That high arch'd eye, that long brown hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fair form'd foot, thine angel air,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But 'tis thy mind, Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Think not to charm me with thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those smiling lips, that heaving sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart 's charm'd with a nobler tie,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is thy mind, Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This heart, which every love could warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which every pretty face could charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more will beat the sweet alarm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to my young Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The peasant lad unyokes his car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star of even shines bright and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lights me to the flood-torn scaur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet my young Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is the smile to please, where truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soft persuasion fills her mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While warm with all the fire of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She clasps me, young Eliza.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_20" id="vol3Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart's blood warms in stronger flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cheeks are tinged with redder glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sober matron, Evening slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bids me to meet Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bard can kindle his soul to flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The patriot hunts a deathless name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the peasant's humble fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And give me young Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The warlock glen has tint its gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairie burn the witching broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All wear a lovelier, sweeter bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there I meet Eliza.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come that mind, so finely form'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By native truth and virtue warm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love's soft simplest lay is charm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come to my breast, Eliza.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVELY_WOMAN10" id="vol3LOVELY_WOMAN10"></a>LOVELY WOMAN.<a name="vol3FNanchor_10_10" id="vol3FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've rock'd me on the giddy mast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through seas tempestuous foamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've braved the toil of mountain storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From dawning to the gloamin';<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_21" id="vol3Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Round the green bosom'd earth, sea-swept,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In search of pleasure roamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found the world a wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without thee, lovely woman!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The farmer reaps his golden fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The merchant sweeps the ocean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soldier's steed, gore-fetlock'd, snorts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through war-field's wild commotion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All combat in eternal toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mirk midnight, day, and gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pleasure Heaven's divinest gift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee, lovely, conquering woman!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The savage in the desert dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The monster's den exploring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sceptre-swaying prince, who rules<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The nations round adoring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, even the laurell'd-templed bard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dew-footed at the gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melodious wooes the world's ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To please thee, lovely woman!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_22" id="vol3Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3EBENEZER_PICKEN" id="vol3EBENEZER_PICKEN"></a>EBENEZER PICKEN.</h2> + +<p>Ebenezer Picken was the only son of a silk-weaver in Paisley, who bore +the same Christian name. He was born at the <i>Well-meadow</i> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_23" id="vol3Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_11_11" id="vol3FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_24" id="vol3Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3PEGGIE_WI_THE_GLANCIN_EE" id="vol3PEGGIE_WI_THE_GLANCIN_EE"></a>PEGGIE WI' THE GLANCIN' E'E.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Walkin' out ae mornin' early,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ken ye wha I chanced to see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my lassie, gay and frisky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœbus, left the lap o' Thetis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast was lickin' up the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan, ayont a risin' hilloc,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First my Peggie came in view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark ye, I gaed up to meet her;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But whane'er my face she saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up her plaidin' coat she kiltit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in daffin' scour'd awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel kent I that though my Peggie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ran sae fast out owre the mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was wantin' me to follow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, ye swains, an' sae I did.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At yon burnie I o'ertook her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare the shinin' pebbles lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare the flowers, that fringe the border,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soup the stream, that wimples by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While wi' her I sat reclinin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae her lips I staw a kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she blush'd, I took anither,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shepherds, was there ill in this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could a lass, sae sweet an' comely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ever bless a lover's arms?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could the bonnie wife o' Vulcan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ever boast o' hauf the charms?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_25" id="vol3Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While the zephyrs fan the meadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the flow'rets crown the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they paint the gowden simmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha sae blest as her an' me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3WOO_ME_AGAIN" id="vol3WOO_ME_AGAIN"></a>WOO ME AGAIN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"On a Primrosy Bank."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan Jamie first woo'd me, he was but a youth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae his lips flow'd the strains o' persuasion and truth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His suit I rejected wi' pride an' disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He aft wad hae tauld me his love was sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en wad hae ventured to ca' me his dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart to his tale was as hard as a stane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said that he hoped I would yield an' be kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I counted his proffers as light as the wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I laugh'd at his grief, whan I heard him complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He flatter'd my locks, that war black as a slae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praised my fine shape, frae the tap to the tae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I flate, an' desired he wad let me alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! wad he offer to woo me again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Repulsed, he forsook me, an' left me to grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mourn the sad hour that my swain took his leave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, since I despised, an' was deaf to his maen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear he 'll ne'er offer to woo me again!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_26" id="vol3Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! wad he but now to his Jean be inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart in a moment wad yield to his mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I fear wi' some ither my laddie is taen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sae he 'll ne'er offer to woo me again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye bonnie young lasses, be warn'd by my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despise not the heart you may value too late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Improve the sweet sunshine that now gilds the plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With you it may never be sunshine again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The simmer o' life, ah! it soon flits awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the bloom on your cheek will soon dow in the snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! think, ere you treat a fond youth wi' disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, in age, the sweet flower never blossoms again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_27" id="vol3Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3STUART_LEWIS" id="vol3STUART_LEWIS"></a>STUART LEWIS.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_28" id="vol3Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_29" id="vol3Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_30" id="vol3Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LANARK_MILLS" id="vol3LANARK_MILLS"></a>LANARK MILLS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Miss Forbes' Farewell to Banff."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu! romantic banks of Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where oft I 've spent the joyful day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, weary wand'ring on thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I pour the plaintive, joyless lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To other lands I 'm doom'd to rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thought with grief my bosom fills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why am I forced to leave my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wander far from Lanark Mills?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can I forget th' ecstatic hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When ('scaped the village evening din)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met my lass 'midst Braxfield bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or near the falls of Corhouse Linn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While close I clasp'd her to my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Th' idea still with rapture thrills!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought myself completely blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By all the lads of Lanark Mills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deceitful, dear, delusive dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'rt fled—alas! I know not where,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vanish'd is each blissful gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left behind a load of care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! dear winding banks of Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A long farewell, ye rising hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more I 'll wander on your side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though still my heart 's at Lanark Mills.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_31" id="vol3Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While Tintock stands the pride of hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Clyde's dark stream rolls to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long, my dear-loved Lanark Mills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May Heaven's best blessings smile on thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A last adieu! my Mary dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The briny tear my eye distils;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While reason's powers continue clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll think of thee, and Lanark Mills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OER_THE_MUIR12" id="vol3OER_THE_MUIR12"></a>O'ER THE MUIR.<a name="vol3FNanchor_12_12" id="vol3FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae morn of May, when fields were gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Serene and charming was the weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I chanced to roam some miles frae home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far o'er yon muir, amang the heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How healthsome 'tis to range the muirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And brush the dew from vernal heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I walk'd along, and humm'd a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart was light as ony feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon did pass a lovely lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was wading barefoot through the heather.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_32" id="vol3Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bonniest lass that e'er I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I met ae morn amang the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes divine, mair bright did shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the most clear unclouded ether;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fairer form did ne'er adorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A brighter scene than blooming heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's ne'er a lass in Scotia's isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can vie with her amang the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said, "Dear maid, be not afraid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pray sit you down, let 's talk together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh! my fair, I vow and swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You 've stole my heart amang the heather."<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye swains, beware of yonder muir,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">You 'll lose your hearts amang the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She answer'd me, right modestly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I go, kind sir, to seek my father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fleecy charge he tends at large,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On yon green hills beyond the heather."<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were I a king, thou shou'dst be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dear blooming maid, amang the heather.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_33" id="vol3Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away she flew out of my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her home or name I ne'er could gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye sin' syne I sigh and pine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For that sweet lass amang the heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the muir amang the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While vital heat glows in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll love the lass amang the heather.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_34" id="vol3Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3DAVID_DRUMMOND" id="vol3DAVID_DRUMMOND"></a>DAVID DRUMMOND.</h2> + +<p>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 con<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_35" id="vol3Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>sequence 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,<a name="vol3FNanchor_13_13" id="vol3FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> an obscure +rhymster of the capital. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_36" id="vol3Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_LEVENSIDE" id="vol3THE_BONNIE_LASS_O_LEVENSIDE"></a>THE BONNIE LASS O' LEVENSIDE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Up amang the Cliffy Rocks."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet are Leven's silver streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around her banks the wild flowers blooming;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On every bush the warblers vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In strains of bosom-soothing joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Leven's banks that bloom sae bra,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Leven's streams that glide sae saucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic joy an' beauty couldna shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An 't were not for my darling lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her presence fills them a' wi' pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bonnie lass o' Levenside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sober eve begins her reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little birds to cease their singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers their beauty to renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their bosoms bathe in diamond dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When far behind the Lomonds high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wheels of day are downwards rowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the western closing sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' varied tints of glory lowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis then my eager steps I guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To meet the lass o' Levenside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The solemn sweetness nature spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kindly hour to bliss inviting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within our happy bosoms move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The softest sigh o' purest love;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_37" id="vol3Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Reclined upon the velvet grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the balmy, birken blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What words could a' my joy express,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When clasped to her beating bosom;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How swells my heart with rapture's tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When wi' the lass o' Levenside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She never saw the splendid ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never blazed in courtly grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But like her native lily's bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She cheerfu' gilds her humble home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pert reply, the modish air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soothe the soul were never granted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When modest sense and love are there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The guise o' art may well be wanted;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O Fate! gi'e me to be my bride<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bonnie lass o' Levenside.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_38" id="vol3Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JAMES_AFFLECK" id="vol3JAMES_AFFLECK"></a>JAMES AFFLECK.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_39" id="vol3Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HOW_BLEST_WERE_THE_DAYS" id="vol3HOW_BLEST_WERE_THE_DAYS"></a>HOW BLEST WERE THE DAYS!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How blest were the days o' langsyne when a laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alane by a bush wi' my dog and my plaidie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae fop was sae happy, though dress'd e'er sae gaudy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sweet were the days o' langsyne when a laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whiles croonin' my sonnet amang the whin bushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whiles whistling wi' glee as I pou'd the green rashes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whim o' the moment kept me aye frae sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I wanted at night was in prospect to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nest o' a lintie I fondly explored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plundering bykes was the game I adored;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My pleasures did vary, as I was unsteady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I always found something that pleased when a laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boy with great pleasure the butterfly chases;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When manhood approaches, the maid he embraces;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But view him at once baith the husband and daddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fondly looks back to the joys o' a laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When childhood was over my prospects were greater,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tried to be happy, but, alas, foolish creature!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sports of my youth were my sweetest employment—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much sweetness in prospect embitters enjoyment.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now I 'm grown auld, and wi' cares I 'm perplex'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How numerous the woes are by which I am vex'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm tentin' the kye wi' my dog, staff, and plaidie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How changed are the days since langsyne when a laddie!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_40" id="vol3Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JAMES_STIRRAT" id="vol3JAMES_STIRRAT"></a>JAMES STIRRAT.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_41" id="vol3Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HENRY14" id="vol3HENRY14"></a>HENRY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_14_14" id="vol3FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Can my dearest Henry leave me?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Why, ah! why would he deceive me?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whence this cold and cruel change,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That bids him thus forsake and grieve me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can he the hours of love forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stolen hours I 'll mind for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When down the burn we fondly met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And aften vow'd we ne'er should sever?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will my Henry then deceive me,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Faithless laddie, can he leave me?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ne'er till now did fancy dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My dearest laddie sae would grieve me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And will he then me aye forsake?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must I for ever, ever lose him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can he leave this heart to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That swells and bursts within my bosom?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Never, Henry, could I leave thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Never could this heart deceive thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Why then, laddie, me forsake,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And sae wi' cruel absence grieve me?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_42" id="vol3Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MARY15" id="vol3MARY15"></a>MARY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_15_15" id="vol3FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In life's gay morn," when hopes beat high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And youthfu' love's endearing tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave rapture to the mutual sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Within the arms of Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain dear Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae joys beneath the vaulted sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could equal mine wi' Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sacred hours like moments flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft transports thrill'd my bosom through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warl' evanish'd frae my view<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Within the arms of Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain dear Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae gloomy cares my soul e'er knew<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Within the arms of Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young fancy spread her visions gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love fondly view'd the fair display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope shew'd the blissfu' nuptial day,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I was rapt with Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain dear Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers of Eden strew'd the way<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That led me to my Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But life is now a dreary waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lanely wander sair depress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For cold and lifeless is that breast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where throbb'd the heart of Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain dear Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's gane to seats o' blissfu' rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I hae lost my Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_43" id="vol3Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_GRIEVE" id="vol3JOHN_GRIEVE"></a>JOHN GRIEVE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_44" id="vol3Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> respectable periodicals.<a name="vol3FNanchor_16_16" id="vol3FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> 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 com<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_45" id="vol3Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>peting bards +in the "Queen's Wake," he has thus depicted him:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bard that night who foremost came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not enroll'd, nor known his name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A youth he was of manly mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle as lamb, as lion bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his fair face, and forehead high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glow'd with intrusive modesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas said by bank of southland stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glided his youth in soothing dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The harp he loved, and wont to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far to the wilds and woods away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing to brooks that gurgled by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of maiden's form and maiden's eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when this dream of youth was past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the shade his harp he cast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In busy life his cares beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart was true, and fortune smiled."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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 <i>savans</i> 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_17_17" id="vol3FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_46" id="vol3Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CULLODEN_OR_LOCHIELS_FAREWELL" id="vol3CULLODEN_OR_LOCHIELS_FAREWELL"></a>CULLODEN; OR, LOCHIEL'S FAREWELL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Fingal's Lament."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Culloden, on thy swarthy brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spring no wild flowers nor verdure fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou feel'st not summer's genial glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than the freezing wintry air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once thou drank'st the hero's blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And war's unhallow'd footsteps bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy deeds unholy, nature view'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then fled, and cursed thee evermore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Beauly's wild and woodland glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How proudly Lovat's banners soar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fierce the plaided Highland clans<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rush onward with the broad claymore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those hearts that high with honour heave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The volleying thunder there laid low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or scatter'd like the forest leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When wintry winds begin to blow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where now thy honours, brave Lochiel?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The braided plumes torn from thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What must thy haughty spirit feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When skulking like the mountain roe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While wild birds chant from Locky's bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On April eve, their loves and joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord of Locky's loftiest towers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To foreign lands an exile flies.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_47" id="vol3Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To his blue hills that rose in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As o'er the deep his galley bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He often look'd and cried, "Adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never see Lochaber more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now thy wounds I cannot feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dear, my injured native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In other climes thy foe shall feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The weight of Cameron's deadly brand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Land of proud hearts and mountains gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Fingal fought, and Ossian sung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourn dark Culloden's fateful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That from thy chiefs the laurel wrung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once they ruled and roam'd at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Free as their own dark mountain game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sons are slaves, yet keenly feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A longing for their father's fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shades of the mighty and the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who, faithful to your Stuart, fell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No trophies mark your common grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor dirges to your memory swell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But generous hearts will weep your fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When far has roll'd the tide of time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bards unborn shall renovate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your fading fame in loftiest rhyme."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_48" id="vol3Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVELY_MARY18" id="vol3LOVELY_MARY18"></a>LOVELY MARY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_18_18" id="vol3FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gowd in gowpens."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've seen the lily of the wold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've seen the opening marigold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fairest hues at morn unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But fairer is my Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet the fringe of mountain burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With opening flowers at spring's return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet the scent of flowery thorn!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter is my Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her heart is gentle, warm, and kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her form 's not fairer than her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two sister beauties rarely join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But join'd in lovely Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As music from the distant steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As starlight on the silent deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So are my passions lull'd asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By love for bonnie Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HER_BLUE_ROLLIN_EE" id="vol3HER_BLUE_ROLLIN_EE"></a>HER BLUE ROLLIN' E'E.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Banks of the Devon."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lassie is lovely, as May day adorning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' gowans an' primroses ilka green lee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though sweet is the violet, new blown i' the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As tender an' sweet is her blue rollin' e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_49" id="vol3Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O, say what is whiter than snaw on the mountain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or what wi' the red rose in beauty can vie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, whiter her bosom than snaw on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bonnie her face as the red rose can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See yon lowly cottage that stands by the wild-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hedged round wi' the sweetbriar and green willow-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas yonder I spent the sweet hours of my childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' first felt the power of a love-rollin' e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though soon frae my hame an' my lassie I wander'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though lang I 've been tossing on fortune's rough sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye dear was the blink o' her blue-rollin' e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! for the evening, and oh! for the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When down by yon greenwood she promised to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When quick as the summer-dew dries on the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' earthly affections and wishes wad flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Art and let Nature display their proud treasures;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let Paradise boast o' what ance it could gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As high is my bliss, an' as sweet are my pleasures,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the heart-melting blink o' my lassie's blue e'e.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_50" id="vol3Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3CHARLES_GRAY" id="vol3CHARLES_GRAY"></a>CHARLES GRAY.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol3FNanchor_19_19" id="vol3FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_20_20" id="vol3FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_51" id="vol3Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> of numerous friends, expressed in the form +of a <i>Round Robin</i>, 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 <i>Glasgow Citizen</i> 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."</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_52" id="vol3Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MAGGIE_LAUDER21" id="vol3MAGGIE_LAUDER21"></a>MAGGIE LAUDER.<a name="vol3FNanchor_21_21" id="vol3FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cantie Spring scarce rear'd her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Winter yet did blaud her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Ranter came to Anster fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And speir'd for Maggie Lauder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snug wee house in the East Green,<a name="vol3FNanchor_22_22" id="vol3FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its shelter kindly lent her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' canty ingle, clean hearth-stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meg welcomed Rob the Ranter!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Rob made bonnie Meg his bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to the kirk they ranted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He play'd the auld "East Nook o' Fife;"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And merry Maggie vaunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Hab himsel' ne'er play'd a spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor blew sae weel his chanter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he made Anster town to ring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wha 's like Rob the Ranter?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For a' the talk and loud reports,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever gaed against her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meg proves a true and carefu' wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ever was in Anster;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_53" id="vol3Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And since the marriage-knot was tied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rob swears he coudna want her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he loves Maggie as his life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Meg loves Rob the Ranter.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING" id="vol3CHARLIE_IS_MY_DARLING"></a>CHARLIE IS MY DARLING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My darling, my darling;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The young Chevalier!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first his standard caught the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His pibroch met the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts were light, our hopes were high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the young Chevalier.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The plaided chiefs cam frae afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae doubts their bosoms steir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They nobly drew the sword for war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the young Chevalier!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he wha trusts to fortune's smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has meikle cause to fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She blinket blithe but to beguile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young Chevalier!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_54" id="vol3Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dark Culloden—fatal field!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fell source o' mony a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Albyn tint her sword and shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the young Chevalier!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Scotland's "flowers are wede away;"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her forest trees are sere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Royal Oak is gane for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young Chevalier!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My darling, my darling;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O Charlie is my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The young Chevalier.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BLACK-EED_LASSIE23" id="vol3THE_BLACK-EED_LASSIE23"></a>THE BLACK-E'ED LASSIE.<a name="vol3FNanchor_23_23" id="vol3FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"My only Jo and Dearie O!"</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' heart sincere I love thee, Bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But dinna ye be saucy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a' my love I winna tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thee, my black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no thy cheek o' rosy hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's no thy little cherrie mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its a' because thy heart 's sae true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no the witch-glance o' thy e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though few for that surpass ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That maks ye aye sae dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_55" id="vol3Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no the whiteness o' thy skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's no love's dimple on thy chin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its a' thy modest worth within,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye smile sae sweet, ye look sae kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a' wish to caress ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! how I admire thy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've seen thine e'en like crystal clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine dimly through soft pity's tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the charms that mak thee dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me, my black-e'ed lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3GRIM_WINTER_WAS_HOWLIN" id="vol3GRIM_WINTER_WAS_HOWLIN"></a>GRIM WINTER WAS HOWLIN'.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie Dundee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grim winter was howlin' owre muir and owre mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bleak blew the wind on the wild stormy sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cauld frost had lock'd up each riv'let and fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I took the dreich road that leads north to Dundee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a' round was dreary, my heart was fu' cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cantie I sung as the bird on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when the heart 's light, the feet winna soon weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ane should gang further than bonnie Dundee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Arrived at the banks o' sweet Tay's flowin' river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd, as it rapidly row'd to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy, whose fond dream still pleases me ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beguiled the lone passage to bonnie Dundee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_56" id="vol3Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There, glowrin' about, I saw in his station<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk bodie as eydent as midsummer bee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fair stood a mark, on the face o' creation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely young Peggy, the pride o' Dundee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! aye since the time I first saw this sweet lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm listless, I 'm restless, wherever I be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm dowie, and donnart, and aften ca'd saucy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They kenna its a' for the lass o' Dundee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! lang may her guardians be virtue and honour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though anither may wed her, yet well may she be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blessin's in plenty be shower'd down upon her—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely young Peggie, the pride o' Dundee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_57" id="vol3Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_FINLAY" id="vol3JOHN_FINLAY"></a>JOHN FINLAY.</h2> + +<p>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<a name="vol3FNanchor_24_24" id="vol3FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> +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 +suit<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_58" id="vol3Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>able 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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_59" id="vol3Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3O_COME_WITH_ME" id="vol3O_COME_WITH_ME"></a>O! COME WITH ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Roslin Castle."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! come with me, for the queen of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is throned on high in her beauty bright:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis now the silent hour of even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all is still in earth an' heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold flowers which the valleys strew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are sparking bright wi' pearly dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hush'd is e'en the bee's soft hum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come with me, sweet Mary, come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The opening blue-bell—Scotland's pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven's pure azure deeply dyed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisy meek frae the dewy dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild thyme, and the primrose pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the lily frae the glassy lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these a fragrant wreath I 'll make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bind them 'mid the locks that flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rich luxuriance from thy brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, love, without thee, what were life?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bustling scene of care and strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A waste, where no green flowery glade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is found for shelter or for shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheer'd by thee, the griefs we share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can with calm composure bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the darkest nicht o' care and toil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is bricht when blest by woman's smile.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_60" id="vol3Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3TIS_NOT_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_CHEEK" id="vol3TIS_NOT_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_CHEEK"></a>'TIS NOT THE ROSE UPON THE CHEEK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not the rose upon the cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor eyes in langour soft that roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fix the lover's timid glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fire his wilder'd soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But 'tis the eye that swims in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Diffusing soft a joy all holy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soothing to the heart of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet so melancholy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The note that falters on the tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet as the dying voice of eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That calms the throbbing breast of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet makes it love to grieve!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand, alternate fiery warm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And icy cold, the bursting sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The look that hopes, yet seems to fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale cheek and burning eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These, these the magic circle twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lover's thoughts and feelings seize;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till scarce a son of earth he seems,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But lives in what he sees.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_61" id="vol3Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3I_HEARD_THE_EVENING_LINNETS_VOICE" id="vol3I_HEARD_THE_EVENING_LINNETS_VOICE"></a>I HEARD THE EVENING LINNET'S VOICE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gramachree."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sweeter were the tender woes of Isabella's song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soft into the ear they steal, so soft into the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep'ning pain of love they soothe, and sorrow's pang control.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd upon the pure brook that murmur'd through the glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingled in the melody that Isabella made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet purer was the residence of Isabella's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the reach of pride and guile, above the reach of art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd upon the azure of the deep unclouded sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet clearer was the blue serene of Isabella's eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er softer fell the rain-drop of the first relenting year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than falls from Isabella's eye the pity-melted tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All this my fancy prompted, ere a sigh of sorrow proved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hopelessly, yet faithfully, and tenderly I loved!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet though bereft of hope I love, still will I love the more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As distance binds the exile's heart to his dear native shore.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_62" id="vol3Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OH_DEAR_WERE_THE_JOYS" id="vol3OH_DEAR_WERE_THE_JOYS"></a>OH! DEAR WERE THE JOYS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Here 's a health to ane I love dear."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! dear were the joys that are past!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! dear were the joys that are past!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inconstant thou art, as the dew of the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a cloud of the night on the blast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How dear was the breath of the eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bearing thy fond faithless sigh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moonbeam how dear that betray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that illumined thine eye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou vow'dst in my arms to be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou swar'st by the moon's sacred light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dark roll'd a cloud o'er the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hid the pale queen of the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast broken thy plighted faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And broken a fond lover's heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! in winter the moon's fleeting ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would trust more than thee and thy art!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am wretched to think on the past—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even hope now my peace cannot save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast given to my rival thy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But me thou hast doom'd to my grave.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_63" id="vol3Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_NICHOLSON" id="vol3WILLIAM_NICHOLSON"></a>WILLIAM NICHOLSON.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_64" id="vol3Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_65" id="vol3Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BRAES_OF_GALLOWAY" id="vol3THE_BRAES_OF_GALLOWAY"></a>THE BRAES OF GALLOWAY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"White Cockade."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O lassie, wilt thou gang wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave thy friens i' th' south countrie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy former friens and sweethearts a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gang wi' me to Gallowa'?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O Gallowa' braes they wave wi' broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And heather-bells in bonnie bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">There 's lordly seats, and livins braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Amang the braes o' Gallowa'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's stately woods on mony a brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where burns and birds in concert play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waukrife echo answers a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O Gallowa' braes, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The simmer shiel I 'll build for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alang the bonnie banks o' Dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half circlin' roun' my father's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O Gallowa' braes, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When autumn waves her flowin' horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fields o' gowden grain are shorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll busk thee fine, in pearlins braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join the dance in Gallowa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O Gallowa' braes, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_66" id="vol3Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At e'en, whan darkness shrouds the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lanely, langsome is the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' tentie care my pipes I 'll thraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Play "A' the way to Gallowa'."<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O Gallowa' braes, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should fickle fortune on us frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae lack o' gear our love should drown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content should shield our haddin' sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Come while the blossom 's on the broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And heather bells sae bonnie bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Come let us be the happiest twa<br /></span> +<span class="i5">On a' the braes o' Gallowa'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HIGHLANDS" id="vol3THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HIGHLANDS"></a>THE HILLS OF THE HIGHLANDS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Ewe Bughts, Marion."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will ye go to the Highlan's, my Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And visit our haughs and our glens?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's beauty 'mang hills o' the Highlan's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lassie i' th' Lowlands ne'er kens.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis true we 've few cowslips or roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae lilies grow wild on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the heather its sweet scent discloses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the daisy 's as sweet to the e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_67" id="vol3Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See yon far heathy hills, whare they 're risin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose summits are shaded wi' blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the fleet mountain roes they are lyin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or feedin' their fawns, love, for you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Right sweet are our scenes i' the gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan shepherds return frae the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aroun' by the banks o' Loch Lomon',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While bagpipes are soundin' sae shrill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Right sweet is the low-setting sunbeams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That points owre the quivering stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter the smiles o' my Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kinder the blinks o' her een.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BANKS_OF_TARF" id="vol3THE_BANKS_OF_TARF"></a>THE BANKS OF TARF.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Sin' my Uncle 's dead."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where windin' Tarf, by broomy knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' siller waves to saut sea rows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a greenwood cluster grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And harebells bloomin' bonnie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below a spreadin' hazle lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fu' snugly hid whare nane could see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While blinkin' love beam'd frae her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met my bonnie Annie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her neck was o' the snaw-drap hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips like roses wet wi' dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! her e'e, o' azure blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was past expression bonnie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_68" id="vol3Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like threads o' gowd her flowin' hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lightly wanton'd wi' the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vain were a' my rhymin' ware<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell the charms o' Annie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While smilin' in my arms she lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She whisperin' in my ear did say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, how could I survive the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should you prove fause, my Tammie, O?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"While spangled fish glide to the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Scotlan's braes shall wave wi' grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till this fond heart shall break wi' pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll aye be true to Annie, O!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Beltan winds blew loud and lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ripplin' raised the spray alang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cheerfu' sat, and cheerfu' sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banks of Tarf are bonnie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though sweet is spring, whan young and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blithe the blinks o' summer day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear nae winter cauld and blae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If blest wi' love and Annie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3O_WILL_YE_GO_TO_YON_BURN_SIDE" id="vol3O_WILL_YE_GO_TO_YON_BURN_SIDE"></a>O! WILL YE GO TO YON BURN SIDE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Will ye walk the woods with me?"</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! will ye go to yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the new-made hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sport upon the flowery swaird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain dear May?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_69" id="vol3Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun blinks blithe on yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar lambkins lightly play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild bird whistles to his mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain dear May.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waving woods, wi' mantle green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall shield us in the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare I 'll pu' a posy for my May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' mony a bonnie flower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father maws ayont the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mammy spins at hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should they see thee here wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'd better been my lane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lightsome lammie little kens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What troubles it await—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan ance the flush o' spring is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fause bird lea'es its mate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers will fade, the woods decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lose their bonnie green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun wi' clouds may be o'ercast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before that it be e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ilk thing is in its season sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So love is in its noon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cankering time may soil the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spoil its bonnie bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, come then, while the summer shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love is young and gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere age his withering, wintry blast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blaws o'er me and my May.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_70" id="vol3Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For thee I 'll tend the fleecy flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or haud the halesome plough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nightly clasp thee to my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And prove aye leal and true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blush o'erspread her bonnie face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She had nae mair to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gae her hand and walk'd alang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The youthfu', bloomin' May.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_71" id="vol3Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ALEXANDER_RODGER" id="vol3ALEXANDER_RODGER"></a>ALEXANDER RODGER.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Reformers' Gazette</i>, a situation which he held till his death. This +event took place on the 26th September 1846.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_72" id="vol3Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_73" id="vol3Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3SWEET_BET_OF_ABERDEEN" id="vol3SWEET_BET_OF_ABERDEEN"></a>SWEET BET OF ABERDEEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How brightly beams the bonnie moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae out the azure sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ilka little star aboon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems sparkling bright wi' joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How calm the eve, how blest the hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How soft the silvan scene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fit to meet thee, lovely flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now let us wander through the broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er the flowery lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While simmer wafts her rich perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae yonder hawthorn tree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, on yon mossy bank we 'll rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where we 've sae aften been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasp'd to each other's throbbing breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet to view that face so meek—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dark expressive eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kiss that lovely blushing cheek—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those lips of coral dye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! to hear thy seraph strains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy maiden sighs between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes rapture thrill through all my veins—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_74" id="vol3Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! what to us is wealth or rank?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or what is pomp or power?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More dear this velvet mossy bank—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This blest ecstatic hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd covet not the monarch's throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor diamond-studded Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While blest wi' thee, and thee alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Bet of Aberdeen!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3BEHAVE_YOURSEL_BEFORE_FOLK" id="vol3BEHAVE_YOURSEL_BEFORE_FOLK"></a>BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Good-morrow to your night-cap."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dinna be sae rude to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As kiss me sae before folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It wad na gie me meikle pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gin we were seen and heard by nane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, guid sake! no before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er you do when out o' view,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be cautious aye before folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Consider, lad, how folk will crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what a great affair they 'll mak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' naething but a simple smack<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That 's gi'en or ta'en before folk.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_75" id="vol3Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor gie the tongue o' auld or young<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Occasion to come o'er folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no through hatred o' a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I sae plainly tell you this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, losh! I tak it sair amiss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be sae teased before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we 're our lane ye may tak ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But fient a ane before folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm sure wi' you I 've been as free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ony modest lass should be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet it doesna do to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic freedom used before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll ne'er submit again to it—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So mind you that—before folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye tell me that my face is fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may be sae—I dinna care—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ne'er again gar 't blush sae sair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ye hae done before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But aye be douce before folk.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_76" id="vol3Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye tell me that my lips are sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At ony rate, it 's hardly meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pree their sweets before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin that 's the case, there 's time and place,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But surely no before folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, gin you really do insist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should suffer to be kiss'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae get a licence frae the priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak me yours before folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Behave yoursel' before folk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when were ane, bluid, flesh, and bane,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye may tak ten before folk.<a name="vol3FNanchor_25_25" id="vol3FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVELY_MAIDEN" id="vol3LOVELY_MAIDEN"></a>LOVELY MAIDEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wake, and fly with me, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the moon is proudly sweeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the ether fields above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While her mellow'd light is streaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full on mountain, moon, and lake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dearest maiden, art thou dreaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis thy true-love calls awake.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_77" id="vol3Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All is hush'd around thy dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even the watch-dog 's lull'd asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the clock the hour is knelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilt thou then thy promise keep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, I hear her softly coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now her window 's gently raised;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There she stands, an angel blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, my Mary, haste thee, haste!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear not, love, thy rigid father<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soundly sleeps bedrench'd with wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thy true-love holds the ladder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To his care thyself resign!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my arms enfold a treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which for worlds I 'd not forego;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now our bosoms feel that pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faithful bosoms only know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long have our true-loves been thwarted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the stern decrees of pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which would doom us to be parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make thee another's bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But behold, my steeds are ready,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon they 'll post us far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt be Glen Alva's lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long before the dawn of day.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_78" id="vol3Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_PEASANTS_FIRESIDE" id="vol3THE_PEASANTS_FIRESIDE"></a>THE PEASANT'S FIRESIDE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"For lack o' gowd."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy lives the peasant, by his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha weel employs the present, by his ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' his wifie blithe and free, and his bairnie on his knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling fu' o' sportive glee, by his ain fireside!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae cares o' state disturb him, by his ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae foolish fashions curb him, by his ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his elbow-chair reclined, he can freely speak his mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his bosom-mate sae kind, by his ain fireside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When his bonnie bairns increase, around his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What health, content, and peace surround his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' day he gladly toils, and at night delighted smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At their harmless pranks and wiles, about his ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while they grow apace, about his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In beauty, strength, and grace, about his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' virtuous precepts kind, by a sage example join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He informs ilk youthfu' mind, about his ain fireside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the shivering orphan poor draws near his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seeks the friendly door, that guards his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's welcomed to a seat, bidden warm her little feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she 's kindly made to eat, by his ain fireside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When youthfu' vigour fails him, by his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hoary age assails him, by his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy he back surveys all his scenes of bygone days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he trod in wisdom's ways, by his ain fireside.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_79" id="vol3Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when grim death draws near him, by his ain fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cause has he to fear him, by his ain fireside?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a bosom-cheering hope, he takes heaven for his prop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then calmly down does drop, by his ain fireside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! may that lot be ours, by our ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then glad will fly the hours, by our ain fireside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May virtue guard our path, till we draw our latest breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we 'll smile and welcome death, by our ain fireside.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3AH_NO_I_CANNOT_SAY_FAREWELL" id="vol3AH_NO_I_CANNOT_SAY_FAREWELL"></a>AH, NO! I CANNOT SAY "FAREWELL."</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T would pierce my bosom through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to this heart 't were death's dread knell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear thee sigh "Adieu."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though soul and body both must part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ne'er from thee I 'll sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For more to me than soul thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oh! I 'll quit thee never.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er through life may be thy fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fate with thee I 'll share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If prosperous, be moderate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If adverse, meekly bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This bosom shall thy pillow be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In every change whatever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tear for tear I 'll shed with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But oh! forsake thee, never.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_80" id="vol3Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One home, one hearth, shall ours be still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And one our daily fare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One altar, too, where we may kneel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And breathe our humble prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one our praise, that shall ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To one all-bounteous Giver;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one our will, our aim, our end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For oh! we 'll sunder never.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when that solemn hour shall come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sees thee breathe thy last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hour shall also fix my doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seal my eyelids fast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One grave shall hold us, side by side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One shroud our clay shall cover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one then may we mount and glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through realms of love, for ever.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_81" id="vol3Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_WILSON" id="vol3JOHN_WILSON"></a>JOHN WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Prior's Croft</i>; 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 <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i>. 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 con<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_82" id="vol3Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>tinued 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_83" id="vol3Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>On the establishment of <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_84" id="vol3Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> riveted public +attention by the force of his declamation, the catholicity of his +criticism, and the splendour of his descriptions. <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> +attained a celebrity never before reached by any monthly periodical; the +essays and sketches of "Christopher North," his literary +<i>nom-de-guerre</i>, 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 <i>Blackwood</i> from +1822 till 1835. In 1825 his entire poetical works were published in two +octavo volumes; and, on his ceasing his regular connexion with +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, his prose contributions were, in 1842, collected +in three volumes, under the title of "Recreations of Christopher North."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_85" id="vol3Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_86" id="vol3Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MARY_GRAYS_SONG" id="vol3MARY_GRAYS_SONG"></a>MARY GRAY'S SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I walk'd by mysel' owre the sweet braes o' Yarrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the earth wi' the gowans o' July was dress'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sang o' the bonnie burn sounded like sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round ilka house cauld as a last-simmer's nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd through the lift o' the blue smiling morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never a wee cloud o' mist could I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On its way up to heaven, the cottage adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hanging white owre the green o' its sheltering tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the outside I kenn'd that the inn was forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That nae tread o' footsteps was heard on the floor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, loud craw'd the cock whare was nane to awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wild raven croak'd on the seat by the door!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sic silence—sic lonesomeness, oh, were bewildering!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard nae lass singing when herding her sheep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met nae bright garlands o' wee rosy children,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dancing onto the school-house, just waken'd frae sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pass'd by the school-house, when strangers were coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose windows with glad faces seem'd all alive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae moment I hearken'd, but heard nae sweet humming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a night o' dark vapour can silence the hive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pass'd by the pool where the lasses at daw'ing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Used to bleach their white garments wi' daffin and din;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the foam in the silence o' nature was fa'ing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nae laughing rose loud through the roar of the linn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_87" id="vol3Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gaed into a small town, when sick o' my roaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare ance play'd the viol, the tabor, and flute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the hour loved by labour, the saft smiling gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet the green round the cross-stane was empty and mute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To the yellow-flower'd meadow, and scant rigs o' tillage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sheep a' neglected had come frae the glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cushat-dow coo'd in the midst o' the village,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the swallow had flown to the dwellings o' men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Denholm! not thus when I lived in thy bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy heart lay so still the last night o' the week;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then nane was sae weary that love would nae rouse him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grief gaed to dance with a laugh on his cheek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sic thoughts wet my een, as the moonshine was beaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the kirk-tower that rose up sae silent and white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wan ghastly light on the dial was streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the still finger tauld not the hour of the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mirk-time pass'd slowly in siching and weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I waken'd, and nature lay silent in mirth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Owre a' holy Scotland the Sabbath was sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heaven in beauty came down on the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morning smiled on—but nae kirk-bell was ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae plaid or blue bonnet came down frae the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kirk-door was shut, but nae psalm tune was singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I miss'd the wee voices sae sweet and sae shrill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_88" id="vol3Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd owre the quiet o' death's empty dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laverock walk'd mute 'mid the sorrowful scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fifty brown hillocks wi' fresh mould were swelling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Owre the kirkyard o' Denholm, last simmer sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The infant had died at the breast o' its mither;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cradle stood still at the mitherless bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At play the bairn sunk in the hand o' its brither;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the fauld on the mountain the shepherd lay dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! in spring-time 'tis eerie, when winter is over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And birds should be glinting owre forest and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the lint-white and mavis the yellow leaves cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nae blackbird sings loud frae the tap o' his tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But eerier far, when the spring-land rejoices,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laughs back to heaven with gratitude bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hearken, and naewhere hear sweet human voices<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When man's soul is dark in the season o' light!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_THREE_SEASONS_OF_LOVE" id="vol3THE_THREE_SEASONS_OF_LOVE"></a>THE THREE SEASONS OF LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With laughter swimming in thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That told youth's heart-felt revelry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And motion changeful as the wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of swallow waken'd by the spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With accents blithe as voice of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting glad Nature's roundelay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Circled by joy like planet bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That smiles 'mid wreaths of dewy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy image such, in former time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou, just entering on thy prime,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_89" id="vol3Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And woman's sense in thee combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gently with childhood's simplest mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First taught'st my sighing soul to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hope towards the heaven of love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now years have given my Mary's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thoughtful and a quiet grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though happy still, yet chance distress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath left a pensive loveliness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy heart broods o'er home-born dreams!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smiles, slow-kindling now and mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shower blessings on a darling child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy motion slow and soft thy tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if round thy hush'd infant's bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thou speak'st, thy melting tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells thy heart is all my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds sweeter from the lapse of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the wife's love, the mother's fears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By thy glad youth and tranquil prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assured, I smile at hoary Time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou art doom'd in age to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The calm that wisdom steals from woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The holy pride of high intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of a life well spent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, earth's affections nearly o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Peace behind and Faith before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou render'st up again to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untarnish'd by its frail abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lustrous soul, then harp and hymn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From bands of sister seraphim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asleep will lay thee, till thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open in immortality.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_90" id="vol3Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3PRAYER_TO_SLEEP" id="vol3PRAYER_TO_SLEEP"></a>PRAYER TO SLEEP.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O gentle Sleep! wilt thou lay thy head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one little hour on thy lover's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none but the silent stars of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall witness be to our delight?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! 'tis said that the couch must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the eider-down that is spread for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I in my sorrow must lie alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine, sweet Sleep! is a couch of stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music to thee I know is dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the saddest of music is ever here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Grief sits with me in my cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she is a syren who singeth well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, glad Sleep! lov'st gladsome airs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt only come to thy lover's prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the bells of merriment are ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bliss with liquid voice is singing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Sleep! so long in thy beauty woo'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rival hast thou in my solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be mine, my love! and we two will lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embraced for ever, or awake to die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Sleep, farewell! hour, hour, hour, hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will slowly bring on the gleam of morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art Joy's faithful paramour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lie wilt thou not in the arms of Sorrow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_91" id="vol3Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3DAVID_WEBSTER" id="vol3DAVID_WEBSTER"></a>DAVID WEBSTER.</h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_26_26" id="vol3FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_92" id="vol3Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3TAK_IT_MAN_TAK_IT" id="vol3TAK_IT_MAN_TAK_IT"></a>TAK IT, MAN, TAK IT.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Brose and Butter."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I was a miller in Fife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Losh! I thought that the sound o' the happer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said, Tak hame a wee flow to your wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To help to be brose to your supper.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then my conscience was narrow and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But someway by random it racket;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I lifted twa neivefu' or mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the happer said, Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the mill and the kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The garland and gear for my cogie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the whisky and yill,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That washes the dust frae my craigie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although it 's been lang in repute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For rogues to mak rich by deceiving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I see that it does not weel suit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Honest men to begin to the thieving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my heart it gaed dunt upon dunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! I thought ilka dunt it would crack it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I flang frae my neive what was in 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still the happer said, Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the mill, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A man that 's been bred to the plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might be deaved wi' its clamorous clapper;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's few but would suffer the sough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">After kenning what 's said by the happer.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_93" id="vol3Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I whiles thought it scoff'd me to scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saying, Shame, is your conscience no checkit?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I grew dry for a horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It changed aye to Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the mill, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The smugglers whiles cam wi' their pocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cause they kent that I liked a bicker;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I bartered whiles wi' the gowks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gaed them grain for a soup o' their liquor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had lang been accustom'd to drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And aye when I purposed to quat it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thing wi' its clappertie clink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said aye to me, Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the mill, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the warst thing I did in my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae doubt but ye 'll think I was wrang o 't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Od! I tauld a bit bodie in Fife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' my tale, and he made a bit sang o 't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have aye had a voice a' my days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But for singing I ne'er got the knack o 't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I tried whiles, just thinking to please<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The greedy wi' Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey the mill, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, miller and a' as I am,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This far I can see through the matter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's men mair notorious to fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mair greedy than me or the muter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'twad seem that the hale race o' men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wi' safety the half we may mak it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had some speaking happer within,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That said to them, Tak it, man, tak it.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the mill, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_94" id="vol3Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OH_SWEET_WERE_THE_HOURS" id="vol3OH_SWEET_WERE_THE_HOURS"></a>OH, SWEET WERE THE HOURS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gregor Arora."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sweet were the hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I spent wi' my Flora,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In yon gay shady bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roun' the linn o' the Cora!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her breath was the zephyrs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That waft frae the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And skim o'er the heath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the summer day closes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I told her my love-tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which seem'd to her cheering;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she breathed on the soft gale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her song so endearing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rock echoes ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem'd charm'd wi' my story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the birds, sweetly singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Replied to my Flora.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sweet zephyr her breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it wafts frae the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And skims o'er the heath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the summer day closes.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_95" id="vol3Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3PATE_BIRNIE27" id="vol3PATE_BIRNIE27"></a>PATE BIRNIE.<a name="vol3FNanchor_27_27" id="vol3FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our minstrels a', frae south to north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Edin cam to try their worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ane cam frae the banks o' Forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whase name was Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Patie, wi' superior art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made notes to ring through head and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till citizens a' set apart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their praise to Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tell auld Kinghorn, o' Picish birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where, noddin', she looks o'er the Firth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Aye when she would enhance her worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To sing o' Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His merits mak <i>Auld Reekie</i><a name="vol3FNanchor_28_28" id="vol3FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mak rustic poets o' him sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nane can touch the fiddle-string<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae weel as Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cheers the sage, the sour, the sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maks youngsters a rin louping mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heads grow giddy, hearts grow glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enchanted wi' Pate Birnie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The witching tones o' Patie's therm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mak farmer chiels forget their farm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sailors forget the howling storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When dancing to Pate Birnie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_96" id="vol3Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Pate maks the fool forget his freaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maks baxter bodies burn their bakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gowkies gie their hame the glaiks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And follow Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Patie taks his strolling rounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feasts or fairs in ither towns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wark bodies fling their trantlooms doun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear the famous Birnie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crabbit carles forget to snarl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The canker'd cuiffs forget to quarrel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gilphies forget the stock and horle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dance to Patie Birnie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_97" id="vol3Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_PARK" id="vol3WILLIAM_PARK"></a>WILLIAM PARK.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>St George's Chronicle</i>. 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,<a name="vol3FNanchor_29_29" id="vol3FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> minister of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_98" id="vol3Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Eskdalemuir, and +continued to occupy the position of <i>minister's man</i> till the death of +that clergyman, many years afterwards.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i>, 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 <i>Dumfries +Standard</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_99" id="vol3Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_PATRIOTS_SONG" id="vol3THE_PATRIOTS_SONG"></a>THE PATRIOT'S SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I leave thee, thou land to my infancy dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere I know aught of toil or of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the clime of the stranger, the solitude drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a thousand endearments forego?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I give my lone bosom a prey to its strife?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must I friendship's just claims disallow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No; her breathings can cool the hot fever of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the breeze fans the sea-beaten brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis said that the comforts of plenty abound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the wide-spreading plains of the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That there an asylum of peace shall be found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the care-stricken wanderer may rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That nature uncheck'd there displays all her pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the forest unfading and deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the river rolls onward its ocean-like tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Encircling broad realms in its sweep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But is there a spot in that far distant land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where fancy or feeling may dwell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how shall the heart of the exile expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Untouch'd by Society's spell?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_100" id="vol3Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though thy children, old Albyn! adversity bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As forlorn o'er thy mountains they roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I 've found, what in vain I should seek for elsewhere—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have found 'mong these mountains a home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How lovely the beam on thy moorland appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it streams from the eye of the morn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how comely the garment that evening wears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the day of its glories is shorn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! strong are the ties that the patriot bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair isle of the sea! to thy shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The turf that he treads, by the best of their kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the bravest, was trodden before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor is there a field—not a foot of thy soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In dale or in mountain-land dun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmark'd in the annals of chivalrous toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere concord its conquest had won.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rill hath a voice from the rock as it pours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It comes from the glen on the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the life-blood of martyrs hath hallow'd thy muirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And their names are revered in the vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sacred the stone that, remote on the heath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the bones of the righteous was laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who triumph'd in death o'er the foes of their faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the banner of truth was display'd!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And sweet are the songs of the land of my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soothing their tones to the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lofty and loud, like the thunder above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the storm-cloud of passion, they roll.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_101" id="vol3Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While summer, beyond the Atlantic's wide waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gaudier garb may assume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My country! thou boastest the verdure of taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy glories immortally bloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! I will not forsake thee, thou land of my lay!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scorn of the stranger to brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thy lea I have revell'd in youth's sunny ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy wild-flowers shall spangle my grave.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_102" id="vol3Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3THOMAS_PRINGLE" id="vol3THOMAS_PRINGLE"></a>THOMAS PRINGLE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Scots' Magazine</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_103" id="vol3Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> the +proposal was well received; a periodical was originated under the title +of the <i>Edinburgh Monthly Magazine</i>, 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 <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, appeared in October, +under the literary superintendence of Wilson; while, in the August +preceding, Pringle had originated, under the publishing auspices of Mr +Constable, <i>The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany</i>, as a new +series of the <i>Scots' Magazine</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>Besides conducting Constable's magazine, Pringle undertook the +editorship of <i>The Star</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_104" id="vol3Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>South African Commercial Advertiser</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_105" id="vol3Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> the <i>New +Monthly Magazine</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_106" id="vol3Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FAREWELL_TO_BONNIE_TEVIOTDALE" id="vol3FAREWELL_TO_BONNIE_TEVIOTDALE"></a>FAREWELL TO BONNIE TEVIOTDALE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our native land—our native vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A long, a last adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Cheviot's mountains blue!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye streams renown'd in song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ye braes and blossom'd meads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts have loved so long!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, the blithsome broomy knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where thyme and harebells grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'erhung with birk and sloe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mossy cave and mouldering tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That skirt our native dells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The martyr's grave and lover's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We bid a sad farewell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Home of our love—our fathers' home—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Land of the brave and free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sail is flapping on the foam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bears us far from thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We seek a wild and distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond the western main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We leave thee to return no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor view thy cliffs again!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_107" id="vol3Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our native land—our native vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A long, a last adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's mountains blue!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_EXILES_LAMENT" id="vol3THE_EXILES_LAMENT"></a>THE EXILE'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the lone Mankayana's margin gray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Scottish maiden sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mournfully pour'd her melting lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Teviot's border-tongue:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O bonnie grows the broom on Blaiklaw knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the birk in Clifton dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And green are the hills o' the milk-white ewes,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By the briery banks o' Cayle!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here bright are the skies; and these valleys of bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May enchant the traveller's eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all seems dress'd in death-like gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the exile who comes to die!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O bonnie grows the broom, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far round and round spreads the howling waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild beast roams at will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yawning cleughs, by woods embraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the savage lurks to kill!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O bonnie grows the broom, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full oft over Cheviot's uplands green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dreaming fancy strays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I wake to weep 'mid the desolate scene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That scowls on my aching gaze!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O bonnie grows the broom, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_108" id="vol3Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh light, light is poverty's lowliest state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Scotland's peaceful strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared with the heart-sick exile's fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this wild and weary land!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O bonnie grows the broom, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVE_AND_SOLITUDE" id="vol3LOVE_AND_SOLITUDE"></a>LOVE AND SOLITUDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the free ridge of the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When dawn lifts her fresh dewy eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love the old ash by the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When noon's summer fervours are high:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dearly I love when the gray-mantled gloaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adown the dim valley glides slowly along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds me afar by the pine-forest roaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-list'ning the close of the gray linnet's song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the moon from her fleecy cloud scatters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over ocean her silvery light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the whisper of woodlands and waters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes soft through the silence of night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love by the ruin'd tower lonely to linger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-dreaming to fancy's wild witchery given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear, as if swept by some seraph's pure finger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The harp of the winds breathing accents of heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet still, 'mid sweet fancies o'erflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft bursts from my lone breast the sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I yearn for the sympathies glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When hearts to each other reply!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_109" id="vol3Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come, friend of my bosom! with kindred devotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To worship with me by wild mountain and grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O come, my Eliza, with dearer emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rapture to hallow the chaste home of love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3COME_AWA_COME_AWA" id="vol3COME_AWA_COME_AWA"></a>COME AWA', COME AWA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come awa', come awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' o'er the march wi' me, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave your southren wooers a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My winsome bride to be, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lands nor gear I proffer you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor gauds to busk ye fine, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 've a heart that 's leal and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a' that heart is thine, lassie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come awa', come awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see the kindly north, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out o'er the peaks o' Lammerlair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by the Links o' Forth, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we tread the heather-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon Demayat lea, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You 'll view the land o' flood and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The noble north countrie, lassie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come awa', come awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave your southland hame, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kirk is near, the ring is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I 'm your Donald Græme, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rock and reel and spinning-wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And English cottage trig, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste, leave them a', wi' me to speel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The braes 'yont Stirling brig, lassie!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_110" id="vol3Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come awa', come awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ken your heart is mine, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And true love shall make up for a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For whilk ye might repine, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your father he has gi'en consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your step-dame looks na kind, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that our feet were on the bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the lowlands far behind, lassie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come awa', come awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll ne'er hae cause to rue, lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cot blinks blithe beneath the shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By bonnie Avondhu, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's birk and slae on ilka brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brackens waving fair, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gleaming lochs and mountains gray—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can aught wi' them compare, lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come awa', come awa', &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3DEAREST_LOVE_BELIEVE_ME" id="vol3DEAREST_LOVE_BELIEVE_ME"></a>DEAREST LOVE, BELIEVE ME!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dearest love, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though all else depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought shall e'er deceive thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this faithful heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty may be blighted—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth must pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the vows we plighted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er shall know decay.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_111" id="vol3Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tempests may assail us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From affliction's coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune's breeze may fail us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we need it most;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairest hopes may perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Firmest friends may change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the love we cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nothing shall estrange.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams of fame and grandeur<br /></span> +<span class="i2">End in bitter tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love grows only fonder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the lapse of years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, and change, and trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weaker ties unbind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the bands redouble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True affection twined.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_112" id="vol3Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_KNOX" id="vol3WILLIAM_KNOX"></a>WILLIAM KNOX.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_113" id="vol3Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_114" id="vol3Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_DEAR_LAND_OF_CAKES" id="vol3THE_DEAR_LAND_OF_CAKES"></a>THE DEAR LAND OF CAKES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O brave Caledonians! my brothers, my friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now sorrow is borne on the wings of the winds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care sleeps with the sun in the seas of the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And courage is lull'd in the warrior's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here social pleasure enlivens each heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And friendship is ready its warmth to impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The goblet is fill'd, and each worn one partakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drink plenty and peace to the dear land of cakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the Bourbon may boast of his vine-cover'd hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through each bosom the tide of depravity thrills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the Indian may sit in his green orange bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There slavery's wail counts the wearisome hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though our island is beat by the storms of the north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There blaze the bright meteors of valour and worth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the loveliest rose-bud of beauty awakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that cradle of virtue, the dear land of cakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O valour! thou guardian of freedom and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou stay of old age, and thou guidance of youth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still thy enthusiast transports pervade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breast that is wrapt in the green tartan plaid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ours are the shoulders that never shall bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the rod of a tyrant, that scourge of a land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours the bosoms no terror of death ever shakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When call'd in defence of the dear land of cakes.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_115" id="vol3Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall the ghosts of our fathers, aloft on each cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the rage of the battle is dreadful and loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See us shrink from our standard with fear and dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave to our foemen the pride of the day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, by heavens we will stand to our honour and trust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till our heart's blood be shed on our ancestors' dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till we sink to the slumber no war-trumpet breaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the brown heath of the dear land of cakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, peace to the ashes of those that have bled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the land where the proud thistle raises its head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, peace to the ashes of those gave us birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a land freedom renders the boast of the earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though their lives are extinguish'd, their spirit remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swells in their blood that still runs in our veins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still their deathless achievements our ardour awakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the honour and weal of the dear land of cakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye sons of old Scotia, ye friends of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From our word, from our trust, let us never depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er from our foe till with victory crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the balm of compassion is pour'd in his wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still to our bosom be honesty dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still to our loves and our friendships sincere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, till heaven's last thunder the firmament shakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May happiness beam on the dear land of cakes.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_116" id="vol3Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_LAMENT" id="vol3THE_LAMENT"></a>THE LAMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the rose-blossoms hung on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear, dear to me were the joys that had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I dreamt of enjoyments to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But she faded more fast than the blossoms could fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No human attention could save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the green leaves of the forest decay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winds strew'd them over her grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3TO_MARY" id="vol3TO_MARY"></a>TO MARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! and though my steps depart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From scenes for ever dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Mary! I must leave my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all my pleasures here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must cherish in my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er my lot shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thought of her I leave behind—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hopeless thought of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mary! I can ne'er forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The charm thy presence brought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hour has pass'd since first we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou hast shared my thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At early morn, at sultry noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the spreading tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, wandering by the evening moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still, still I think of thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_117" id="vol3Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, thou hast come to cheer my dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bid me grieve no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at the morn's returning gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sorrow'd as before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou shalt still partake my care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when I bend the knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pour to Heaven a fervent prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will remember thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! and when my steps depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though many a grief be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I may conceal my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll weep to hear of thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though from thy memory soon depart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each little trace of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis only in the grave this heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can cease to think of thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_118" id="vol3Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_THOM" id="vol3WILLIAM_THOM"></a>WILLIAM THOM.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_119" id="vol3Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> 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 <i>Aberdeen Herald</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_120" id="vol3Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_121" id="vol3Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3JEANIES_GRAVE" id="vol3JEANIES_GRAVE"></a>JEANIE'S GRAVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw my true-love first on the banks of queenly Tay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor did I deem it yielding my trembling heart away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feasted on her deep, dark eye, and loved it more and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh! I thought I ne'er had seen a look so kind before!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard my true-love sing, and she taught me many a strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a voice so sweet, oh! never shall my cold ear hear again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all our friendless wanderings—in homeless penury—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gentle song and jetty eye were all unchanged to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw my true-love fade—I heard her latest sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wept no friv'lous weeping when I closed her lightless eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from her native Tay she sleeps, and other waters lave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The markless spot where Ury creeps around my Jeanie's grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Move noiseless, gentle Ury! around my Jeanie's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll love thee, gentle Ury! where'er my footsteps tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sooner shall thy fairy wave return from yonder sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I forget yon lowly grave, and all it hides from me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_122" id="vol3Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THEY_SPEAK_O_WILES" id="vol3THEY_SPEAK_O_WILES"></a>THEY SPEAK O' WILES.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gin a bodie meet a bodie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ruin in her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken they bring a pang at whiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That 's unco sair to dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mind ye this, the half-ta'en kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The first fond fa'in' tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is, heaven kens, fu' sweet amends,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' tints o' heaven here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When two leal hearts in fondness meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's tempests howl in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very tears o' love are sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When paid with tears again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall hapless prudence shake its pow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall cauldrife caution fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna, dinna droun the lowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lichts a heaven here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though we 're ca'd a wee before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stale "three score an' ten,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Joy keeks kindly at your door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye bid her welcome ben.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About yon blissfu' bowers above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let doubtfu' mortals speir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae weel ken we that "heaven is love,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since love makes heaven here.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_123" id="vol3Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_MITHERLESS_BAIRN30" id="vol3THE_MITHERLESS_BAIRN30"></a>THE MITHERLESS BAIRN.<a name="vol3FNanchor_30_30" id="vol3FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha stands last and lanely, an' naebody carin'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the puir doited loonie—the mitherless bairn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aneath his cauld brow siccan dreams hover there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' hands that wont kindly to kame his dark hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mornin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lo'e nae the locks o' the mitherless bairn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon sister that sang o'er his saftly-rock'd bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rests in the mools whare her mammie is laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father toils sair their wee bannock to earn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' kens na' the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her spirit that pass'd in yon hour o' his birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still watches his wearisome wanderings on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recording in heaven the blessings they earn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! speak him na' harshly—he trembles the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bends to your bidding, and blesses your smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their dark hour o' anguish, the heartless shall learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_124" id="vol3Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_LASS_O_KINTORE" id="vol3THE_LASS_O_KINTORE"></a>THE LASS O' KINTORE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Oh, as I was kiss'd yestreen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At hame or afield I am cheerless an' lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm dull on the Ury, an' droop by the Don;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their murmur is noisy, and fashious to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the lay o' the lintie fa's dead on my ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hide frae the morn, and whaur naebody sees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I greet to the burnie, an' sich to the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I sich till I 'm silly, an' greet till I dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kintore is the spot in this world for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the lass o' Kintore, oh! the lass o' Kintore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be warned awa' frae the lass o' Kintore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's a love-luring look that I ne'er kent afore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Steals cannily hame to the heart at Kintore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They bid me forget her, oh! how can it be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In kindness or scorn she 's ever wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel her fell frown in the lift's frosty blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I weel ken her smile in the lily's saft hue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I try to forget her, but canna forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've liked her lang, an' I aye like her yet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My poor heart may wither, may waste to its core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But forget her, oh never! the lass o' Kintore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh the wood o' Kintore, the holmes o' Kintore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love-lichtin' e'e that I ken at Kintore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll wander afar, an' I 'll never look more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the gray glance o' Peggy, or bonnie Kintore!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_125" id="vol3Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MY_HAMELESS_HA" id="vol3MY_HAMELESS_HA"></a>MY HAMELESS HA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very sun glints eerie on the gilded wa';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' aye the nicht sae drearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ere the dowie morn daw,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whan I canna win to see you,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My Jamie, ava'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though mony miles between us, an' far, far frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bush that wont to screen us frae the cauld warl's e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Its leaves may waste and wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But its branches winna fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' hearts may haud thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though frien's drap awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye promised to speak o' me to the lanesome moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weird kind wishes to me, in the lark's saft soun';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I doat upon that moon<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Till my very heart fills fu',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' aye yon birdie's tune<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gars me greet for you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then how can I be cheerie in the stranger's ha'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gowden prison drearie, my luckless fa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tween leavin' o' you, Jamie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' ills that sorrow me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm wearie o' the warl',<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' carena though I dee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_126" id="vol3Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_GLEN31" id="vol3WILLIAM_GLEN31"></a>WILLIAM GLEN.<a name="vol3FNanchor_31_31" id="vol3FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_32_32" id="vol3FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> 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." Dur<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_127" id="vol3Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>ing 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_128" id="vol3Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3WAES_ME_FOR_PRINCE_CHARLIE33" id="vol3WAES_ME_FOR_PRINCE_CHARLIE33"></a>WAES ME FOR PRINCE CHARLIE.<a name="vol3FNanchor_33_33" id="vol3FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Johnnie Faa."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wee bird cam to our ha' door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He warbled sweet an' clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye the owercome o' his sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was, "Waes me for Prince Charlie."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! whan I heard the bonnie soun',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tears cam drappin' rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took my bannet aff my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth I, "My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is that a sang ye borrow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thae some words ye 've learnt by heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or a lilt o' dule an' sorrow?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, no, no, no!" the wee bird sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I 've flown sin' mornin' early,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sic' a day o' wind and rain!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"On hills that are by right his ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He roves a lanely stranger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side he 's press'd by want,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On every side is danger.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yestreen I saw him in a glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart maist burstit fairly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sadly changed indeed was he—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_129" id="vol3Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dark night cam on, the tempest roar'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loud o'er the hills an' valleys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' whare wast that your Prince lay down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whase hame should been a palace?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He row'd him in a Highland plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which cover'd him but sparely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' slept beneath a bush o' broom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now the bird saw some red-coats,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' he shook his wings wi' anger:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh! this is no a land for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll tarry here nae langer."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hover'd on the wing a while,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere he departed fairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But weel I mind the farewell strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was, "Waes me for Prince Charlie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MARY_OF_SWEET_ABERFOYLE34" id="vol3MARY_OF_SWEET_ABERFOYLE34"></a>MARY OF SWEET ABERFOYLE.<a name="vol3FNanchor_34_34" id="vol3FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The slow sinking moon half illumined the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I lifted my head frae my care-haunted pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wander'd to muse on the days that were gane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet hope seem'd to smile o'er ideas romantic,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' gay were the dreams that my soul would beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my eyes fill'd wi' tears as I view'd the Atlantic,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' thought on my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_130" id="vol3Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though far frae my hame in a tropical wildwood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet the fields o' my forefathers rose on my view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I wept when I thought on the days of my childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the vision was painful the brighter it grew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet days! when my bosom with rapture was swelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I knew it not then, it was love made me smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! the snaw wreath is pure where the moonbeams are dwelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet as pure is my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now far in the east the sun slowly rising,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brightly gilded the top of the tall cabbage tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet was the scene such wild beauties comprising,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As might have fill'd the sad mourner with rapture and glee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my heart felt nae rapture, nae pleasant emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The saft springs o' pleasure had lang, lang been seal'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought on my home 'cross a wide stormy ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wept for my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The orange was bathed in the dews o' the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the bright draps bespangled the clustering vine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White were the blossoms the lime-tree adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' brown was the apple that grew on the pine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I as free as an Indian chieftain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic beautiful scenes might give pleasure the while;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the joy o' a slave is aye waverin' an' shiftin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a slave I 'm to Mary of sweet Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the mirk cloud o' fortune aboon my head gathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the golden shower fa's whare it ne'er fell before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then I 'll revisit the land of my fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' clasp to this bosom the lass I adore.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_131" id="vol3Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hear me, ye angels, who watch o'er my maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Like ane o' yoursels she is free frae a' guile),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure as was love in the garden o' Eden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae pure is my Mary of sweet Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BATTLE-SONG35" id="vol3THE_BATTLE-SONG35"></a>THE BATTLE-SONG.<a name="vol3FNanchor_35_35" id="vol3FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Raise high the battle-song<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the heroes of our land;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strike the bold notes loud and long<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To Great Britain's warlike band.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst away like a whirlwind of flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild as the lightning's wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strike the boldest, sweetest string,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deathless glory sing—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To their fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">See Corunna's bloody bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis a sad, yet glorious scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There the imperial eagle fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And there our chief was slain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green be the turf upon the warrior's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High honour seal'd his doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eternal laurels bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round the poor and lowly tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of his rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Strong was his arm of might,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the war-flag was unfurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But his soul when peace shone bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beam'd love to all the world.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_132" id="vol3Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And his name, through endless ages shall endure;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High deeds are written fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that scroll, which time must spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy fame 's recorded there—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Noble Moore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yonder 's Barossa's height<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rising full upon my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where was fought the bloodiest fight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That Iberia ever knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Albion's bold sons to victory were led.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With bay'nets levell'd low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They rush'd upon the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like an avalanche of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From its bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sons of the "Lonely Isle,"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Your native courage rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When surrounded for a while<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the thousands of your foes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dauntless was your chief, that meteor of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He resistless led ye on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the bloody field was won,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dying battle-groan<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sunk afar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Our song Balgowan share,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Home of the chieftain's rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thou art a lily fair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In Caledonia's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe, sweetly breathe, a soft love-soothing strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For beauty there doth dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the mountain, flood, or fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And throws her witching spell<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er the scene.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_133" id="vol3Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But not Balgowan's charms<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could hire the chief to stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the foe were up in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a country far away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rush'd to battle, and he won his fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ages may pass by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fleet as the summer's sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thy name shall never die—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gallant Græme.<a name="vol3FNanchor_36_36" id="vol3FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Strike again the boldest strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To our great commander's praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who to our memory brings<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"The deeds of other days."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peal for a lofty spirit-stirring strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blaze of hope illumes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Iberia's deepest glooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the eagle shakes his plumes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">High is the foemen's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For they are sons of war;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But our chieftain rolls the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of battle back afar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A braver hero in the field ne'er shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let bards with loud acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heap laurels on his fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Singing glory" to the name<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of Wellington.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_134" id="vol3Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Could I with soul of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Guide my wild unsteady hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would strike the quivering wire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till it rung throughout the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all its warlike heroes would I sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were powers to soar thus given,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the blast of genius driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would sweep the highest heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With my wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet still this trembling flight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May point a bolder way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere the lonely beam of night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Steals on my setting day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till then, sweet harp, hang on the willow tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when I come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wilt not sound in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I 'll strike thy highest strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bold and free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_MAID_OF_ORONSEY37" id="vol3THE_MAID_OF_ORONSEY37"></a>THE MAID OF ORONSEY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_37_37" id="vol3FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae hopeless love itsel' it flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bird, oh! warble it again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou'st touch'd the string o' a' my woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! lull me with it to repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll dream of her who 's far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy, as my eyelids close,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will meet the maid of Oronsey.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_135" id="vol3Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Couldst thou but learn frae me my grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet bird, thou 'dst leave thy native grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fly to bring my soul relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where my warmest wishes rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as the cooings of the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'dst sing thy sweetest, saddest lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melt to pity and to love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie maid of Oronsey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well may I sigh and sairly weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song sad recollections bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fly across the roaring deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to my maiden sweetly sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill to her faithless bosom fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remembrance of a sacred day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But feeble is thy wee bit wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far 's the isle of Oronsey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, bonnie bird, wi' mony a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll mourn beside this hoary thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou wilt find me sitting here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere thou canst hail the dawn o' morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then high on airy pinions borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'lt chant a sang o' love an' wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' soothe me, weeping at the scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the sweet maid of Oronsey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when around my weary head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft pillow'd where my fathers lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death shall eternal poppies spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' close for aye my tearfu' eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perch'd on some bonnie branch on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou 'lt sing thy sweetest roundelay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothe my "spirit, passing by"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet the maid of Oronsey.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_136" id="vol3Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3JESS_MLEAN38" id="vol3JESS_MLEAN38"></a>JESS M'LEAN.<a name="vol3FNanchor_38_38" id="vol3FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes were red with weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lover was no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the billows sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Near Ireland's rocky shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She oft pray'd for her Willy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But it was all in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pale as any lily<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew lovely Jess M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She sat beside some willows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That overhung the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she view'd the billows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She moan'd most piteously;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm in all its rigour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swept the bosom of the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shook the sylph-like figure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lovely Jess M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her auburn hair was waving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ringlets on the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tempest join'd its raving,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the hapless maiden's wail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild was the storm's commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet careless of the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the spirit of the ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sat lovely Jess M'Lean.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_137" id="vol3Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She look'd upon her bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Willy's picture hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas like a rosy blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a bed of lilies flung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She kiss'd the red cheeks over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And look'd, and kiss'd again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then told the winds her lover<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was true to Jess M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a blast like bursting thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bent down each willow tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snapp'd the picture clasp asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flung it in the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She started from the willows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The image to regain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And low beneath the billows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies lovely Jess M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her bones are changed to coral<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the purest virgin white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her teeth are finest pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her eyes are diamonds bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breeze oft sweeps the willows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a sad and mournful strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moaning o'er the billows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sings the dirge of Jess M'Lean.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HOW_EERILY_HOW_DREARILY" id="vol3HOW_EERILY_HOW_DREARILY"></a>HOW EERILY, HOW DREARILY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my love 's in a foreign land, far frae thae arms o' mine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_138" id="vol3Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Three years hae come an' gane, sin' first he said to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he wad stay at hame wi' Jean, wi' her to live an' dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day comes in wi' sorrow now, the night is wild an' drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' every hour that passes by I water wi' a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I kiss my bonnie baby, I clasp it to my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! aft wi' sic a warm embrace, it's father hath me press'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' whan I gaze upon its face, as it lies on my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crystal draps upon its cheeks will fa' frae ilka ee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! mony a, mony a burning tear upon its cheeks will fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! its like my bonnie love, and he is far awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan the spring time had gane by, an' the rose began to blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the harebell an' the violet adorn'd ilk bonnie shaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas then my love cam courtin' me, and wan my youthfu' heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a tear it cost my love ere he could frae me part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though he 's in a foreign land far, far across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken my Jamie's guileless heart is faithfu' unto me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye wastlin win's upon the main blaw wi' a steady breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waft my Jamie hame again across the roaring seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! whan he clasps me in his arms in a' his manly pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll ne'er exchange that ae embrace for a' the warl' beside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then blaw a steady gale, ye win's, waft him across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring my Jamie hame again to his wee bairn an' me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_139" id="vol3Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BATTLE_OF_VITTORIA39" id="vol3THE_BATTLE_OF_VITTORIA39"></a>THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA.<a name="vol3FNanchor_39_39" id="vol3FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Whistle o'er the lave o 't."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High glory gie to gallant Graham,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heap laurels on our marshal's fame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha conquer'd at Vittoria.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant freedom smiled on Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' raised her stately form again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan the British lion shook his mane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the mountains of Vittoria.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let blustering Suchet crousely crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Joseph rin the coward's track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Jourdan wish his baton back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He left upon Vittoria.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er they meet their worthy king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them dance roun' him in a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' some Scots piper play the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He blew them at Vittoria.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gie truth and honour to the Dane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gie German's monarch heart and brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye in sic a cause as Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gie Britain a Vittoria.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The English rose was ne'er sae red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shamrock waved whare glory led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the Scottish thistle rear'd its head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In joy upon Vittoria.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_140" id="vol3Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud was the battle's stormy swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare thousands fought an' many fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the Glasgow heroes bore the bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the battle of Vittoria.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Paris maids may ban them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lads are maistly wede awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' cauld an' pale as wreathes o' snaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They lie upon Vittoria.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace to the souls, then, o' the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all their trophies for them wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And green be our Cadogan's grave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon thy fields, Vittoria.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout on, my boys, your glasses drain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill a bumper up again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pledge to the leading star o' Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hero of Vittoria.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3BLINK_OVER_THE_BURN_SWEET_BETTY"></a>BLINK OVER THE BURN, SWEET BETTY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blink over the burn to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though father and mither forbade it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forbidden I wadna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_141" id="vol3Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cheek o' my love 's like the rose-bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blushing red wi' the mornin' dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair 's o' the loveliest auburn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her ee 's o' the bonniest blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips are like threads o' the scarlet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disclosing a pearly row;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her high-swelling, love-heaving bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is white as the mountain snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it isna her beauty that hauds me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glitterin' chain winna lang bind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis her heavenly seraph-like sweetness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the graces adornin' her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's dear to my soul as the sunbeam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is dear to the summer's morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' she says, though her father forbade it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 'll ne'er break the vows she has sworn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her father's a canker'd auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He swears he will ne'er gie consent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such carles should never get daughters,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless they can mak them content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she says, though her father forbade it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forbidden she winna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FAREWEEL_TO_ABERFOYLE" id="vol3FAREWEEL_TO_ABERFOYLE"></a>FAREWEEL TO ABERFOYLE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Highland Plaid."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My tortured bosom long shall feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pangs o' this last sad fareweel;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_142" id="vol3Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far to foreign lands I stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spend my hours in deepest wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, my dear, my native soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, the braes o' Aberfoyle!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' fare-ye-weel, my winsome love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into whatever lands I rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt claim the deepest, dearest sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warmest tear ere wet my eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when I 'm wan'rin' mony a mile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll mourn for Kate o' Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When far upon the raging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thunders roar, and lightnings flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sweepin' storms the ship assail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll bless the music o' the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' think, while listenin' a' the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the storms o' Aberfoyle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kitty, my only love, fareweel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What pangs my faithfu' heart will feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While straying through the Indian groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weepin' our woes or early loves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll ne'er mair see my native soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Aberfoyle!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_143" id="vol3Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3DAVID_VEDDER"></a>DAVID VEDDER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>melange</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_144" id="vol3Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>Constable's Edinburgh Magazine</i>, the <i>Edinburgh Literary +Journal</i>, the <i>Edinburgh Literary Gazette</i>, the <i>Christian Herald</i>, +<i>Tait's Magazine</i>, and <i>Chambers's Journal</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_145" id="vol3Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_146" id="vol3Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3JEANIES_WELCOME_HAME"></a>JEANIE'S WELCOME HAME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While plaudits shake the vaulted fane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let warriors rush through flood and fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A never-dying name to gain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let bards, on fancy's fervid wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pursue some high or holy theme:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be 't mine, in simple strains, to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My darling Jeanie 's welcome hame!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet is the morn of flowery May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When incense breathes from heath and wold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When laverocks hymn the matin lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mountain peaks are bathed in gold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swallows, frae some foreign strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are wheeling o'er the winding stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter to extend my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bid my Jeanie welcome hame!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor collie, our auld-farrant dog,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will bark wi' joy whene'er she comes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And baudrons, on the ingle rug,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will blithely churm at "auld gray-thrums."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mavis, frae our apple-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall warble forth a joyous strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blackbird's mellow minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall welcome Jeanie hame again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like dew-drops on a fading rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maternal tears shall start for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And low-breathed blessings rise like those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which soothed thy slumb'ring infancy.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_147" id="vol3Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my timid dove!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll kiss thy beauteous brow once more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fountain of thy father's love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is welling all its banks out o'er!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3I_NEITHER_GOT_PROMISE_OF_SILLER" id="vol3I_NEITHER_GOT_PROMISE_OF_SILLER"></a>I NEITHER GOT PROMISE OF SILLER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Todlin' hame."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I neither got promise of siller nor land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the bonnie wee darling who gave me her hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I got a kind heart with my sweet blushing bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that 's proved the bliss of my ain fireside.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain fireside, my dear fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's happiness aye at my ain fireside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ambition once pointed my view towards rank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meadows and manors, and gold in the bank:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas but for an hour; and I cherish with pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sweet lovely flower at my ain fireside.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain fireside, my happy fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Jeanie 's the charm of my ain fireside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her accents are music; there 's grace in her air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purity reigns in her bosom so fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's lovelier now than in maidenly pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she 's long been the joy of my ain fireside.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain fireside, my happy fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's harmony still at my ain fireside!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_148" id="vol3Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the minions of fortune and fashion go roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm content with the sweet, simple pleasures of home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though their wine, wit, and humour flow like a spring-tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are these to the bliss of my dear fireside?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My ain fireside, my cheerie fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There are pleasures untold at my ain fireside!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THERE_IS_A_PANG_FOR_EVERY_HEART" id="vol3THERE_IS_A_PANG_FOR_EVERY_HEART"></a>THERE IS A PANG FOR EVERY HEART.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gramachree."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a pang for every heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A tear for every eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a knell for every ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For every breast a sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's anguish in the happiest state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Humanity can prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the torture of the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is unrequited love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The reptile haunts the sweetest bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose blooms on the thorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's poison in the fairest flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That greets the opening morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hemlock and the night-shade spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In garden and in grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the upas of the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is unrequited love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! lady, thine inconstancy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath made my peace depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The unwonted coldness of thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath froze thy lover's heart.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_149" id="vol3Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet with the fibres of that heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine image dear is wove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can they sever till I die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of unrequited love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_FIRST_OF_MAY" id="vol3THE_FIRST_OF_MAY"></a>THE FIRST OF MAY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Braes of Balquhidder."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the beams of May morn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the mountains are streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dews on the corn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are like diamond-drops gleaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the birds from the bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are in gladness ascending;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the breath of sweet flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the zephyrs is blending.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the rose-linnet's thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Overflowing with gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wood-pigeon's bill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though their notes seem of sadness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the jessamine rich<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its soft tendrils is shooting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From pear and from peach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bright blossoms are sprouting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the lambs on the lea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are in playfulness bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the voice of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is in harmony sounding;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_150" id="vol3Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the streamlet on high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the morning beam dances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all Nature is joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sweet summer advances.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, my Mary, let 's stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild-flowers are glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the banks of the Tay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its melody flowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt bathe in May-dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a sweet mountain blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis bright like thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And 'tis pure as thy bosom!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3SONG_OF_THE_SCOTTISH_EXILE" id="vol3SONG_OF_THE_SCOTTISH_EXILE"></a>SONG OF THE SCOTTISH EXILE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the sunny peaches glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the grapes in clusters blush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cooling silver streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From their sylvan fountains rush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music in the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there 's fragrance on the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nought so dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As my own Highland vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the queen-like virgin rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the dew and sunlight born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the azure violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread their beauties to the morn;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_151" id="vol3Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So does the hyacinth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lily pure and pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I love the daisy best<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my own Highland vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! hark! those thrilling notes!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the nightingale complains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! the soul of music breathes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In those more than plaintive strains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they 're not so dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the murmur of the rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bleating of the lambs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On my own Highland hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the flow'rets fair may glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the juicy fruits may blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the beauteous birds may sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the crystal streamlets rush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the verdant meads may smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cloudless sun may beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nought beneath the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like my own Highland home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_TEMPEST_IS_RAGING" id="vol3THE_TEMPEST_IS_RAGING"></a>THE TEMPEST IS RAGING.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"He 's dear to me, though far frae me."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tempest is raging<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rending the shrouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean is waging<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A war with the clouds;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_152" id="vol3Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The cordage is breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The canvas is torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The timbers are creaking—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The seamen forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The water is gushing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through hatches and seams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis roaring and rushing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er keelson and beams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nought save the lightning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On mainmast or boom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At intervals brightening<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The palpable gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though horrors beset me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hurricanes howl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may not forget thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beloved of my soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though soon I must perish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ocean beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine image I 'll cherish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adored one! in death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_TEMPLE_OF_NATURE40"></a>THE TEMPLE OF NATURE.<a name="vol3FNanchor_40_40" id="vol3FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Talk not of temples—there is one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Built without hands, to mankind given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its lamps are the meridian sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the stars of heaven;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_153" id="vol3Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Its walls are the cerulean sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its floor the earth so green and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dome is vast immensity—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Alps array'd in stainless snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Andean ranges yet untrod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At sunrise and at sunset glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like altar-fires to God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if with hallow'd victims rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thunder lifts its voice in praise—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ocean heaves resistlessly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pours his glittering treasure forth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His waves—the priesthood of the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kneel on the shell-gemm'd earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there emit a hollow sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if they murmur'd praise and prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side 'tis holy ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grateful earth her odours yield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In homage, Mighty One! to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From herbs and flowers in every field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From fruit on every tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The balmy dew at morn and even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems like the penitential tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed only in the sight of heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_154" id="vol3Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cedar and the mountain pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The willow on the fountain's brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tulip and the eglantine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In reverence bend to Him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song-birds pour their sweetest lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From tower, and tree, and middle air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rushing river murmurs praise—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then talk not of a fane, save one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Built without hands, to mankind given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its lamps are the meridian sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the stars of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its walls are the cerulean sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its floor the earth so green and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dome is vast immensity—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All nature worships there!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_155" id="vol3Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_MDIARMID"></a>JOHN M'DIARMID.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh +Review</i> 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 <i>Scotsman</i> newspaper. In +January 1817, he accepted<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_156" id="vol3Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> the editorship of the <i>Dumfries and Galloway +Courier</i>—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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Dumfries Courier</i>, 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 <i>Dumfries Magazine</i> +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 <i>Caledonian Mercury</i>, the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_157" id="vol3Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> established of +the Scottish newspapers, but preferred to remain in Dumfries. He +ultimately became sole proprietor of the <i>Courier</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_158" id="vol3Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3NITHSIDE" id="vol3NITHSIDE"></a>NITHSIDE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"There 's a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the lark is in the air, the leaf upon the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The butterfly disporting beside the hummel bee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scented hedges white, the fragrant meadows pied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet it is to wander by bonnie Nithside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the blackbird piping loud the mavis strives to drown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And schoolboys seeking nests find each nursling fledged or flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hop 'mong plots and borders, array'd in all their pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet at dewy morn to roam by bonnie Nithside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the flies are on the stream, 'neath a sky of azure hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And anglers take their stand by the waters bright and blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the coble circles pools, where the monarch salmon glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surpassing sweet on summer days is bonnie Nithside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the corncraik's voice is mute, as her young begin to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek with swifts and martins some home beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reapers crowd the harvest-field, in man and maiden pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How exquisite the golden hours on bonnie Nithside!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_159" id="vol3Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When stubbles yield to tilth, and woodlands brown and sear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falling leaf and crispy pool proclaim the waning year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounds of sylvan pastime ring through our valley wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vicissitude itself is sweet by bonnie Nithside!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when winter comes at last, capping every hill with snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freezing into icy plains the struggling streams below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You still may share the curler's joys, and find at even-tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maids sweet and fair, in spence and ha', at bonnie Nithside!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3EVENING" id="vol3EVENING"></a>EVENING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hush, ye songsters! day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how sweet the setting sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilds the welkin's boundless breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling as he sinks to rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the swallow down the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Issuing from her noontide cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mocks the deftest marksman's aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jumbling in fantastic game:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet inhabitant of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure thy bosom holds no care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the fowler full of wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skilful in the deeds of death<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_160" id="vol3Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the darting hawk on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ruthless tyrant of the sky!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Owns one art of cruelty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit to fell or fetter thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gayest, freest of the free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ruling, whistling shrill on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where yon turrets kiss the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teasing with thy idle din<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drowsy daws at rest within;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long thou lov'st to sport and spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy never-wearying wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lower now 'midst foliage cool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift thou skimm'st the peaceful pool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the speckled trout at play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rising, shares thy dancing prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the treach'rous circles swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide and wider where it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guiding sure the angler's arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where to find the puny swarm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with artificial fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best to lure the victim's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, emerging from the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brisk it bites the barbed hook;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struggling in the unequal strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its death, disguised as life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till it breathless beats the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er to cleave the current more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace! creation's gloomy queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkest Night, invests the scene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence, Evening's handmaid mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaves her home amid the wild,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_161" id="vol3Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Tripping soft with dewy feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summer's flowery carpet sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morpheus—drowsy power—to meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruler of the midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy plenitude of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this burthen'd bosom throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half its leaden load of woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since thy envied art supplies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What reality denies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy cheerless suppliant see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams of bliss inspired by thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let before his wond'ring eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancy's brightest visions rise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long lost happiness restore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None can need thy bounty more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_162" id="vol3Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3PETER_BUCHAN"></a>PETER BUCHAN.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_163" id="vol3Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_164" id="vol3Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THOU_GLOOMY_FEBERWAR41"></a>THOU GLOOMY FEBERWAR.<a name="vol3FNanchor_41_41" id="vol3FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! gin thou wert awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm wae to hear thy soughin' winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm wae to see thy snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my bonnie, braw, young Hielandman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lad I lo'e sae dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has vow'd to come and see me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the spring o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A silken ban' he gae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bin' my gowden hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A siller brooch and tartan plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' for his sake to wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! my heart was like to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(For partin' sorrow 's sair)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he vow'd to come and see me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the spring o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft, aft as gloamin' dims the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wander out alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare bud the bonnie yellow whins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the trystin' stane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas there he press'd me to his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kiss'd awa' the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he vow'd to come and see me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the spring o' the year.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_165" id="vol3Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye gentle breezes, saftly blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cleed anew the wuds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye laverocks lilt your cheerie sangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the fleecy cluds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Feberwar and a' his train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Affrighted disappear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hail wi' you the blithesome change,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spring-time o' the year.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_166" id="vol3Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_FINLAY" id="vol3WILLIAM_FINLAY"></a>WILLIAM FINLAY.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_167" id="vol3Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BREAKING_HEART" id="vol3THE_BREAKING_HEART"></a>THE BREAKING HEART.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I mark'd her look of agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard her broken sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the colour leave her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lustre leave her eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the radiant ray of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her sadden'd soul forsaking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by these tokens, well I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maiden's heart was breaking.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not from the hand of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bitter grief proceeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not for sins that she hath done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bosom inly bleeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not death's terrors wrap her soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In shades of dark despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But man—deceitful man—whose hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thorn hath planted there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_AULD_EMIGRANTS_FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTLAND"></a>THE AULD EMIGRANT'S FAREWEEL TO SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now shades thee from my view—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of my birth! my hearth, my home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A long, a last adieu!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_168" id="vol3Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sparkling streams, thy plantin's green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ring with melodie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy flowery vales, thy hills and dales,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again I 'll never see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How aft have I thy heathy hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Climb'd in life's early day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pierced the dark depths of thy woods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pu' the nit or slae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lain beneath the spreading thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hid frae the sun's bright beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on my raptured ear was borne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music of thy streams!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And aft, when frae the schule set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've join'd a merry ban',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whase hearts were loupin' licht wi' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh as the morning's dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waunert, Cruikston, by thy tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or through thy leafy shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The livelang day, nor thocht o' hame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till nicht began to fa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now the buoyancy o' youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a' its joys are gane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My children scatter'd far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I am left alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she who was my hope and stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soothed me when distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the narrow house of death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has lang been laid at rest.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_169" id="vol3Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And puirtith's cloud doth me enshroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae, after a' my toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm gaun to lay my puir auld clay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within a foreign soil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, fareweel, auld Scotia dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A last fareweel to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy tinkling rills, thy heath-clad hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again I 'll never see!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OER_MOUNTAIN_AND_VALLEY" id="vol3OER_MOUNTAIN_AND_VALLEY"></a>O'ER MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er mountain and valley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morn gladly did gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streamlets danced gaily<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath its bright beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisies were springing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To life at my feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woodlands were ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With melody sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the sky became low'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clouds big with rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their treasures outpouring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon deluged the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The late merry woodlands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew silent and lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And red from the muirlands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The river rush'd down.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_170" id="vol3Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus life, too, is chequer'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sunshine and gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of change 'tis the record—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now blight and now bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft morn rises brightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With promise to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long, long ere noontide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sky is o'ercast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet much of the trouble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath which mortals groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They contrive to make double<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By whims of their own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! it makes the heart tingle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With anguish to think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That our own hands oft mingle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bitters we drink.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_171" id="vol3Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_GIBSON_LOCKHART" id="vol3JOHN_GIBSON_LOCKHART"></a>JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.</h2> + +<p>John Gibson Lockhart, the distinguished editor of the <i>Quarterly +Review</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_172" id="vol3Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> 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 <i>first class</i>,—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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_173" id="vol3Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>; 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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_42_42" id="vol3FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> 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 <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, Lockhart now began to exhibit +powers of prolific authorship. In the course of a few years he produced<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_174" id="vol3Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +"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 <i>Quarterly Review</i>; 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_175" id="vol3Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> 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 <i>Quarterly Review</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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 daugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_176" id="vol3Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>ter; 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."</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_177" id="vol3Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3BROADSWORDS_OF_SCOTLAND43" id="vol3BROADSWORDS_OF_SCOTLAND43"></a>BROADSWORDS OF SCOTLAND.<a name="vol3FNanchor_43_43" id="vol3FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Oh, the roast beef of Old England."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oh! the old Scottish broadswords.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Sir Ralph Abercromby, the good and the brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him flee from our board, let him sleep with the slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose libation comes slow while we honour his grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the broadswords, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though he died not like him amid victory's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though disaster and gloom wove his shroud on the shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the less we remember the spirit of Moore.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the broadswords, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea a place with the fallen, the living shall claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll entwine in one wreath every glorious name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gordon, the Ramsay, the Hope, and the Graham.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the broadswords, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_178" id="vol3Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Count the rocks of the Spey, count the groves of the Forth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count the stars in the clear cloudless heaven of the north;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then go blazon their numbers, their names and their worth.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the broadswords, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The highest in splendour, the humblest in place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand united in glory, as kindred in race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the private is brother in blood to his Grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the broadswords, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sacred to each and to all let it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oh! the old Scottish broadswords.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CAPTAIN_PATONS_LAMENT44" id="vol3CAPTAIN_PATONS_LAMENT44"></a>CAPTAIN PATON'S LAMENT.<a name="vol3FNanchor_44_44" id="vol3FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Touch once more a sober measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And let punch and tears be shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a prince of good old fellows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That, alack-a-day! is dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a prince of worthy fellows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a pretty man also,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That has left the Saltmarket,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sorrow, grief, and woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_179" id="vol3Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His waistcoat, coat, and breeches<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were all cut off the same web,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a beautiful snuff-colour,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of a modest genty drab;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue stripe in his stocking,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Round his neat slim leg did go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his ruffles of the cambric fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They were whiter than the snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His hair was curled in order,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the rising of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In comely rows and buckles smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That about his ears did run;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_180" id="vol3Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And before there was a toupee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That some inches up did grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And behind there was a long queue,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That did o'er his shoulders flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And whenever we forgather'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He took off his wee three-cockit;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he proffer'd you his snuff-box,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which he drew from his side-pocket;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on Burdett or Bonaparte<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He would make a remark or so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then along the plainstones<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a provost he would go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">In dirty days he picked well<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His footsteps with his rattan;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! you ne'er could see the least speck<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the shoes of Captain Paton.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on entering the coffee-room<br /></span> +<span class="i4">About two, all men did know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They would see him with his <i>Courier</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the middle of the row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now and then, upon a Sunday,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He invited me to dine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a herring and a mutton chop,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which his maid dress'd very fine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was also a little Malmsay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a bottle of Bordeaux,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, between me and the captain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pass'd nimbly to and fro!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I ne'er shall take potluck with Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_181" id="vol3Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Or, if a bowl was mentioned,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The captain he would ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bid Nelly run to the Westport,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a stoup of water bring.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then would he mix the genuine stuff,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they made it long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With limes that on his property<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In Trinidad did grow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall taste the like of Captain Paton's punch no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And then all the time he would discourse<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So sensible and courteous,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps talking of last sermon<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He had heard from Dr Porteous;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of some little bit of scandal<br /></span> +<span class="i4">About Mrs So-and-So,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which he scarce could credit, having heard<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The <i>con.</i> but not the <i>pro.</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Or when the candles were brought forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the night was fairly setting in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He would tell some fine old stories<br /></span> +<span class="i4">About Minden-field or Dettingen;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How he fought with a French major,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And dispatch'd him at a blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While his blood ran out like water<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the soft grass below!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall hear the like from Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But at last the captain sickened,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And grew worse from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all miss'd him in the coffee-room,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From which now he staid away;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_182" id="vol3Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +<span class="i2">On Sabbaths, too, the Wynd kirk<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Made a melancholy show,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All for wanting of the presence<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of our venerable beau!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And in spite of all that Cleghorn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Corkindale could do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was plain, from twenty symptoms,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That death was in his view;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So the captain made his test'ment,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And submitted to his foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we laid him by the Ram's-horn kirk—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis the way we all must go!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Join all in chorus, jolly boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And let punch and tears be shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this prince of good old fellows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That, alack-a-day! is dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this prince of worthy fellows—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a pretty man also—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That has left the Saltmarket<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sorrow, grief, and woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo'e!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_183" id="vol3Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CANADIAN_BOAT-SONG45"></a>CANADIAN BOAT-SONG.<a name="vol3FNanchor_45_45" id="vol3FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><i>From the Gaelic.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Listen to me, as when ye heard our father<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing, long ago, the song of other shores;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen to me, and then in chorus gather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All your deep voices, as ye pull your oars:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fair these broad meads—these hoary woods are grand;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But we are exiles from our fathers' land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the lone shieling of the misty island<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, 'tween the dark hills, creeps the small clear stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arms around the patriach-banner rally,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, foreign rage!—let discord burst in slaughter!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh then for clansman true, and stern claymore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hearts that would have given their blood like water<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fair these broad meads—these hoary woods are grand;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But we are exiles from our fathers' land!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_184" id="vol3Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3THOMAS_MATHERS"></a>THOMAS MATHERS.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_185" id="vol3Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3EARLY_LOVE" id="vol3EARLY_LOVE"></a>EARLY LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nae love like early love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae lasting an' sae leal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wins upon the youthfu' heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sets its magic seal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The die that 's cast in early life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is nae vain airy dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But makes thee still in after years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The subject of my theme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But years o' shade an' sunshine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have flung alternately<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fleeting shadows as they pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athwart life's changing sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like troubled waters, too, the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'S been ruffled an' distress'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with the placid calm return'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine image to my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still I hae seen a fairer face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though fairer anes are few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I hae marked kinder smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than e'er I gat frae you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But smiles, like blinks o' simmer sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave not a trace behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While early love has forged chains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The freest heart to bind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mind from tyrant fetters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is free as air to rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But powerful are the links that chain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart to early love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affections, like the ivy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In nature's leafy screen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entwine the boughs o' early love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' foliage "ever green."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_186" id="vol3Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JAMES_BROWN" id="vol3JAMES_BROWN"></a>JAMES BROWN.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_187" id="vol3Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MY_PEGGY_S_FAR_AWAY" id="vol3MY_PEGGY_S_FAR_AWAY"></a>MY PEGGY 'S FAR AWAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen as I stray'd on the banks o' the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A laddie beneath the gay greenwood I spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sang o' his Peggy, and oh! he seem'd wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Peggy, sweet Peggy, was far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair burns the taper in yon lofty ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet nought now shines bright where her shade doesna fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Peggy was pure as the dew-drops o' May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Peggy, sweet Peggy, is far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye breezes that curve the blue waves o' the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sigh 'mang the dark firs on yon mountain side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dreary your murmurs throughout the lang day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sable-wing'd blackbird yon birk-trees amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mavis sing notes that accord wi' my sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' nature is dowie, by bank and by brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye dew-dripping daisies that bloom by the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though scathed by rude winter in spring ye return;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark'd, but I minded no whit your decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I mourn'd not the absence o' summer or spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught o' the beauties the seasons may bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en 'mid the dark winter this heart still was gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_188" id="vol3Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bleak blawing winter, wi' a' its alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might add to, but tak not away from her charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snaws seem'd as welcome as summer-won hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Henry lo'es Mary, Jock dotes upon Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Willie ca's Nancy o' beauty the queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Peggy was mine, and far lovelier than they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Peggy, sweet Peggy, gaed far, far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, when will the days o' this sadness be o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven, in pity, my Peggie restore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It kens she 's the loveliest it ere made o' clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ill I may thole that she 's far, far away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVE_BROUGHT_ME_A_BOUGH" id="vol3LOVE_BROUGHT_ME_A_BOUGH"></a>LOVE BROUGHT ME A BOUGH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waves by yon brook where the wild-flowers grow sheen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And braiding my harp wi' the sweet budding rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It mellow'd its tones 'mang the saft falling dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It whisper'd a strain that I wist na to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That false was the lassie my bosom held dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride stirr'd me to sing, as I tore off the rue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet aft when reflection brings back to my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days that are gane, when my lassie was kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh says I felt then as ne'er I feel now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul was enraptured—I canna tell how.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_189" id="vol3Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet what need I sing o' the joys that hae been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why should I start at the glance o' her een,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or think o' the dark locks that wave o'er her brow?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen when the sun glinted blithe on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met her alane by the flower-border'd rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I speer'd for her weelfare, but cauld was her air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I soughtna' to change it by foul words or fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She says I deceived her, how can it be sae?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart, ere deceived some affection maun hae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that hers had nane, I the sairer may rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she 's got ae sweetheart, an' I can get two.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She left me for ane wha o' mailins could sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae gie her the pleasures that riches can bring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae fame to the hero, and gowd to the Jew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me the enjoyment that 's prized by the few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A friend o' warm feeling, and frank and refined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a lassie that 's modest, true hearted, and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll woo her, I 'll lo'e her, and best it will do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love brings nae bliss when it tampers wi' two.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HOW_S_A_WI_YE" id="vol3HOW_S_A_WI_YE"></a>HOW 'S A' WI' YE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Jenny's Bawbee."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bannet happ'd my daddie's head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Folk scunner'd a' at tea;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_190" id="vol3Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When cronies met they didna stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rule their words by manners grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But warmly clasping hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said, How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now there 's nought but shy finesse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mim and prim 'bout mess and dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That scarce a hand a hand will press<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' ought o' feeling free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cauldrife pride aside has laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hodden gray, and hame-spun plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' is changed since neebors said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just, How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our auld guidwife wore cloak and hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden's gown was worset guid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kept her ringlets in a snood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon her pawkie e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now set wi' gaudy gumflowers roun',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She flaunts it in her silken gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That scarce ane dare by glen or town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I watna how they manage now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their brides in lighted ha's to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it is caulder wark, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than e'er it was wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye true unto the trysts we set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we among the hawthorns met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love-warm, true love wad scarce us let<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_191" id="vol3Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wae-worth their haughty state and style,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That drive true feeling frae our isle!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In saxty years o' care and toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What ferlies do we see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowliest heart a pride displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unkent in our ain early days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk kind and canty thing decays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When back we look on bygane years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel may the cheek be wet wi' tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cauld mool mony a bosom bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ance dear to you and me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I will neither chafe nor chide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ane comes to my ingle side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose bosom glows wi' honest pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At, How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Newfangled guffs may things arrange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For further and still further change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strange things shall to me be strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I can hear and see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I gang, as I 'll do soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join the leal in hames aboon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll greet them just as aye I 've doon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_192" id="vol3Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OH_SAIR_I_FEEL_THE_WITCHING_POWER" id="vol3OH_SAIR_I_FEEL_THE_WITCHING_POWER"></a>OH! SAIR I FEEL THE WITCHING POWER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Miller of Dron," improved set.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sair I feel the witching power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' that sweet pawkie e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sair I 'll rue the luckless hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That e'er it shone on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless sic love as wounds this heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come frae that heart again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach for aye the kindly ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blink on me alane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy modest cheek aye mantling glows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er I talk o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rainbow rays upon the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its native sweets improve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when the sunbeams leave yon tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gloamin' vails the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye gang to the birken bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nane on earth can ken?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, scenes delighting, smiles inviting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heartfelt pleasures len',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! how fain to meet alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nane on earth can ken!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amang the lave I manna speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when I look the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mair I 'm seen, the mair I seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their watching to beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave, dear lassie, leave them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And frae this heart sae leal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt hear the love, by glen and shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It canna mair conceal.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_193" id="vol3Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My plaid shall shield thy peerless charms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae evening's fanning gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saft shall be my circling arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And true my simple tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seated by the murmuring brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the flowery den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love 's reveal'd in word or look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nane on earth can ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heartfelt pleasures len',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! how fain to meet alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nane on earth can ken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's music in the lighted ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looks in laughing een,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem affection forth to show,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That less is felt than seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But silent in the faithfu' heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The charm o' love shall reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or words shall but its power impart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make it mair our ain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let worldlings doat upon their wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spendthrifts hae their glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a' the state o' a' the great,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall draw a wish frae me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away wi' thee by glen an' bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far frae the haunts o' men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! a' the bliss o' hour like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The world can never ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heartfelt pleasures len',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye how fain we 'll meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nane on earth can ken.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_194" id="vol3Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3DANIEL_WEIR" id="vol3DANIEL_WEIR"></a>DANIEL WEIR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_195" id="vol3Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_196" id="vol3Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3SEE_THE_MOON" id="vol3SEE_THE_MOON"></a>SEE THE MOON.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the moon o'er cloudless Jura<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shining in the lake below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the distant mountain tow'ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a pyramid of snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scenes of grandeur—scenes of childhood—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scenes so dear to love and me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us roam by bower and wildwood—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All is lovelier when with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Leman's breast the winds are sighing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All is silent in the grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flow'rs, with dew-drops glist'ning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sparkle like the eye of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blessed night to love and me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us roam by bower and fountain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All is lovelier when with thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVE_IS_TIMID" id="vol3LOVE_IS_TIMID"></a>LOVE IS TIMID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! tell me why true love should be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afraid to meet the kindly smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him she loves, from him would flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet thinks upon him all the while?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_197" id="vol3Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True love, they say, delights to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some sequester'd, lonely bow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him she loves, where none can tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her tender look in passion's hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, like the lonely nightingale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will pour her heart, when all is lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will repeat, amidst the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her notes to any, but to one.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Can you tell me, tell me why<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love is timid, love is shy?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3RAVENS_STREAM" id="vol3RAVENS_STREAM"></a>RAVEN'S STREAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My love, come let us wander<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Raven's streams meander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where, in simple grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The daisy decks the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace and joy our hours shall measure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, oh! come, my soul's best treasure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then how sweet, and then how cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raven's braes will be, my dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silver moon is beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Clyde her light is streaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, while the world is dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll talk of love, my dear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_198" id="vol3Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">None, my Jean, will share this bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thine image loves to blossom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no storm will ever sever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dear flow'r, or part us ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OH_OUR_CHILDHOODS_ONCE_DELIGHTFUL_HOURS" id="vol3OH_OUR_CHILDHOODS_ONCE_DELIGHTFUL_HOURS"></a>OH! OUR CHILDHOOD'S ONCE DELIGHTFUL HOURS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Oh! the days are past when beauty bright."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! our childhood's once delightful hours<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ne'er come again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sunny glens, their blooming bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And primrose plain!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With other days,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ambitious rays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May flash upon our mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give me back the morn of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fond thoughts twined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it sweetly broke on bower and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And youth's gay mind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! our childhood's days are ne'er forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On life's dark sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And memory hails that sacred spot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where'er we be;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It leaves all joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And fondly sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As youth comes on the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looks upon the morn of life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fond thoughts, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_199" id="vol3Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When age will come, with locks of gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To quench youth's spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its stream runs cold along the way<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where all seems dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Twill smiling gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As memory's blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breaks on its wavering mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'twill never bring the morn of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fond thoughts, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3COULD_WE_BUT_LOOK_BEYOND_OUR_SPHERE" id="vol3COULD_WE_BUT_LOOK_BEYOND_OUR_SPHERE"></a>COULD WE BUT LOOK BEYOND OUR SPHERE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could we but look beyond our sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trace, along the azure sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myriads that were inmates here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since Abel's spirit soar'd on high—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then might we tell of those who see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our wand'rings from eternity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But human frailty cannot gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On such a cloud of splendid light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As heaven's sacred court displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of blessed spirits clothed in white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from the fears of death are free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look from an eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They look, but ne'er return again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell the secrets of their home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindliest tears for them are vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For never, never shall they come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Time's pale light begin to flee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before a bright eternity!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_200" id="vol3Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could we but gaze beyond our sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the golden porch of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see those spirits which appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like stars upon the robe of even!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no! unseen to us they see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our wanderings from eternity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The crimes of men which Heaven saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pitied with a parent's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ne'er a kindred spirit draw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In mercy from its home on high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They look, but all they know or see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is silent as eternity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At noonday hour, or midnight deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No bright inhabitant draws nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though a parent's offspring weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No whisper echoes from the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though friends may gaze, yet all they see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is known but in eternity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet we may look beyond our sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On One who shines among the throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we by faith may also hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The triumphs of a glorious song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while we gaze on Him, we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The path to this eternity!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3IN_THE_MORNING_OF_LIFE" id="vol3IN_THE_MORNING_OF_LIFE"></a>IN THE MORNING OF LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the morning of life, when its sweet sunny smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shines bright on our path, we may dream we are blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We may look on the world as a gay fairy isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sorrow 's unknown, and the weary have rest!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_201" id="vol3Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the brightness that shone, and the hopes we enjoy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are clouded ere noon, and soon vanish away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the dark beating tempest, on life's stormy tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Obscures all the sweets of the morning's bright ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then where are those bowers, in some gay, happy plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where hope ne'er deceives, and where love is aye true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the brightness of morning shines on but to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sunshine as bright and as promising too?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! ask for it not in this valley of sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where we smile but to weep, and we ne'er can find rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the world we would wish shines afar in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sorrow 's unknown—'tis the home of the blest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3ON_THE_DEATH_OF_A_PROMISING_CHILD" id="vol3ON_THE_DEATH_OF_A_PROMISING_CHILD"></a>ON THE DEATH OF A PROMISING CHILD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still, still as the grave, in silence sleeps on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst the tears that are shed, his eye is unmoved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the beat of that bosom for ever is gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world to him, with its sorrows and sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fled like a dream when the morn appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the spirit awakes in the light of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more to revisit this valley of tears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_202" id="vol3Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few, few were his years; but, had they been more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunshine which smiled might have vanish'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he might have fallen on some far friendless shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or been wreck'd amidst storms in some desolate bay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a rosebud of promise, when fresh in the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was the child of thy heart while he lingered here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now from thy love, from thine arms he is torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet to bloom in a lovelier, happier sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy the pilgrim whose journey is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who, musing, looks back on its dangers and woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rejoice at his rest, for sorrow no more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can start on his dreams, or disturb his repose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who would not recline on the breast of a friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the night-cloud has lower'd o'er a sorrowful day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not rejoice at his journey's end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When perils and toils encompass'd his way?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weep not thus, for the moment is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wand'rer sleeps on his couch of rest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_DYING_HOUR" id="vol3THE_DYING_HOUR"></a>THE DYING HOUR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why does the day, whose date is brief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smile sadly o'er the western sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the brown autumnal leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hang restless on its parent tree?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_203" id="vol3Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the rose, with drooping head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Send richer fragrance from the bow'r?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their golden time of life had fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was their dying hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why does the swan's melodious song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come thrilling on the gentle gale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the lamb, which stray'd along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lie down to tell its mournful tale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the deer, when wounded, fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the lone vale, where night-clouds low'r?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their time was past—they lived to die—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was their dying hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why does the dolphin change its hues,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like that aërial child of light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the cloud of night refuse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet the morn with beams so bright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the man we saw to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow fade like some sweet flow'r?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All earth can give must pass away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was their dying hour!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND" id="vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND"></a>THE MIDNIGHT WIND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which seem'd, to fancy's ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mournful music of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The echo of a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still methought the hollow sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, melting, swept along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of other days had found,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all the powers of song.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_204" id="vol3Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thought of friends untrue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hearts that seem'd so fondly twined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That nought could e'er undo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cherish'd hopes, once fondly bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of joys which fancy gave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of youthful eyes, whose lovely light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were darken'd in the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all was still as death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When nought was heard before, behind—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not e'en the sleeper's breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I have sat at such an hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heard the sick man's sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or seen the babe, like some sweet flow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At that lone moment die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wept for others' woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor could the heart such music find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bid its tear-drops flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The melting voice of one we loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose voice was heard no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd, when those fancied chords were moved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still breathing as before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sat beside the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt those movings of the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which own a secret dread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ticking clock, which told the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had then a sadder chime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these winds seem'd an unseen pow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which sung the dirge of time.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_205" id="vol3Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, o'er the new-made grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one whose heart was true and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its rudest blasts did rave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! there was something in the sound—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mournful, melting tone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which led the thoughts to that dark ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where he was left alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the midnight wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And courted sleep in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thoughts like these have oft combined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rack the wearied brain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even when slumber, soft and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has seen the eyelid close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The restless soul, which cannot sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has stray'd till morning rose.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_206" id="vol3Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ROBERT_DAVIDSON" id="vol3ROBERT_DAVIDSON"></a>ROBERT DAVIDSON.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_207" id="vol3Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FAREWELL_TO_CALEDONIA" id="vol3FAREWELL_TO_CALEDONIA"></a>FAREWELL TO CALEDONIA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu! a lang and last adieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My native Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For while your shores were in my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I steadfast gazed upon ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your shores sae lofty, steep, an' bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit emblem of your sons of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose valour, more than mines of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has honour'd Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I think how happy I could be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live and die upon ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though distant many miles from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart still hovers o'er ye, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fancy haunts your mountains steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your forests fair, an' valleys deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your plains, where rapid rivers sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gladden Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still mem'ry turns to where I spent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's cheerfu' morn sae bonnie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though by misfortune from it rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's dearer still than ony, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain I 'm told our vessel hies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fertile fields an' kindly skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still they want the charm that ties<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart to Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My breast had early learn'd to glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At name of Caledonia;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though torn an' toss'd wi' many a foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She never bow'd to ony, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_208" id="vol3Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A land of heroes, famed an' brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land our fathers bled to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom foreign foes could ne'er enslave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu to Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3ON_VISITING_THE_SCENES_OF_EARLY_DAYS" id="vol3ON_VISITING_THE_SCENES_OF_EARLY_DAYS"></a>ON VISITING THE SCENES OF EARLY DAYS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye daisied glens and briery braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunts of my happy early days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where oft I 've pu'd the blossom'd slaes<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And flow'rets fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my heart was scathed wi' waes<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or worldly care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now recollection's airy train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoots through my heart with pleasing pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And streamlet, mountain, rock, or plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Like friends appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, lang, lang lost, now found again,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Are doubly dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But many a dauted object 's fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low lies my once paternal shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rank hemlocks wild, and weeds, o'erspread<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The ruin'd heap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unstirr'd by cheerful tongue or tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The echoes sleep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_209" id="vol3Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon bonnie burn, whose limpid streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When warm'd with summer's glowing beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have often laved my tender limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When my employ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was chasing childhood's airy whims<br /></span> +<span class="i8">From joy to joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon yon green, at gloamin' gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've often join'd in cheerful play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' comrades guileless, blithe, and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Whose magic art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember'd at this distant day,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Still warms the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, cronies dear! for ever lost!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abroad on life's rough ocean toss'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By adverse winds and currents cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">By watching worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some landed on that silent coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ne'er to return!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Howe'er the path of life may lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If poorly low, or proudly high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When scenes of childhood meet our eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Their charms we own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yield the tribute of a sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To days long gone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_210" id="vol3Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3TO_WANDER_LANG_IN_FOREIGN_LANDS" id="vol3TO_WANDER_LANG_IN_FOREIGN_LANDS"></a>TO WANDER LANG IN FOREIGN LANDS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Auld Langsyne."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To wander lang in foreign lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was my destinie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I joyful was at my return,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My native hills to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My step grew light, my heart grew fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought my cares to tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until I fand ilk weel-kenn'd spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae alter'd sin' langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sigh'd to see the flow'ry green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Skaith'd by the ruthless pleugh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Likewise the bank aboon the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where broom and hawthorns grew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lonely tree, whose aged trunk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ivy did entwine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still mark'd the spot where youngsters met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In cheerful sports langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I mixèd with the village train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still I seem'd alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae kindly hand did welcome me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' my friends were gane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those friends who oft in foreign lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did haunt this heart o' mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brought to mind the happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I spent wi' them langsyne.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_211" id="vol3Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In youthfu' prime, at fortune's ca',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I braved the billows' roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've now seen thirty simmer suns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blink on a distant shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I have stood where honour call'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the embattled line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there left many gallant lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cronies o' langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've gather'd walth o' weel-won gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still I fortune blame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lang wi' strangers pass'd my days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now I 'm ane at hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have nae friend but what my gowd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can draw to mammon's shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how unlike the guileless hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wish'd me weel langsyne!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_212" id="vol3Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3PETER_ROGER" id="vol3PETER_ROGER"></a>PETER ROGER.</h2> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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' <i>crack</i> 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 +appear<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_213" id="vol3Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>ance 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.'</p> + +<p>"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 +<i>Picus</i> himself, some simple native melody upon his +Scotch flute. The <i>in-door</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"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." </p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_214" id="vol3Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3LOVELY_JEAN" id="vol3LOVELY_JEAN"></a>LOVELY JEAN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Miss Forbes' Farewell."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mang a' the lassies young an' braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fair as summer's rosy beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's ane the bonniest o' them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dwells by Manor's mountain stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft hae I gazed on her sweet face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ilka time new beauties seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye some new discover'd grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Endears to me my lovely Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' oh! to list her ev'ning sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When a' alane she gently strays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow waving broom amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blooms on Manor's flow'ry braes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice sae saft, sae sweet and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afar in yonder bower sae green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mavis quits her lay to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bonnier sang frae lovely Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it 's no her peerless face nor form,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's no her voice sae sweet and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That keeps my love to her sae warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' maks her every day mair dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's just the beauties o' her mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her easy, winning, modest mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her truth and constancy, which bind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart and soul to lovely Jean.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_215" id="vol3Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_MALCOLM" id="vol3JOHN_MALCOLM"></a>JOHN MALCOLM.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Constable's Magazine</i>, 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 <i>Edinburgh Weekly Journal</i>. +In 1828, he published "Scenes of War, and other Poems;" and subsequently +contributed numerous poetical pieces to the pages of the <i>Edinburgh +Literary Journal</i>. A small volume of prose sketches also appeared from<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_216" id="vol3Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +his pen, under the title of "Tales of Field and Flood." In 1831 he +undertook the editorship of the <i>Edinburgh Observer</i> newspaper, which he +held till the period of his death. He died at Edinburgh, of a pulmonary +complaint, in September 1835.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_217" id="vol3Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_MUSIC_OF_THE_NIGHT" id="vol3THE_MUSIC_OF_THE_NIGHT"></a>THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">The music of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon its lonely flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the west, where sink its ebbing sands;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That muffled music seems<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Like voices heard in dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh'd back from long-lost years and distant lands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Amid the stillness round,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As 'twere the shade of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floats on the low sweet strain of lulling tones;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Such as from trembling wire<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of sweet Æolian lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With winds awake in murmurs and in moans.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Oh! melting on the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What solemn chords are there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torrent's thunder sunk into a sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And thine, majestic main!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Great Nature's organ strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep pealing through the temple of the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">And songs unsung by day—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The nightingale's lone lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From lady's bower, the lover's serenade;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And dirge of hermit-bird<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From haunts of ruin heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only voice that wails above the dead.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_218" id="vol3Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">To them that sail the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When winds have sunk to sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreamy murmurs of the night steal on;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Say, does their mystic hum,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So vague and varied, come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From distant shores unseen, and lands unknown?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">In them might fancy's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Earth's dying echoes hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our home's sweet voices swooning on the floods;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or songs of festal halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or sound of waterfalls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Indian's dismal war-whoop through the woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Joy breathes in morning song,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And happy things among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her choral bowers wake matins of delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But dearer unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The dirge-like harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of vesper voices, and of wailing night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_SEA" id="vol3THE_SEA"></a>THE SEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">The sea—the deep, deep sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That awful mystery!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was there a time of old ere it was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or e'er the dawn of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Coeval with the night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, slept it on, for ever and forlorn?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_219" id="vol3Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Till the Great Spirit's word<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Its sullen waters heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their wild voices, through the void profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gave deep responsive roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But silent never more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be their solemn, drear, and dirge-like sound!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Earth's echoes faint and die;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sunk down into a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scamander's voice scarce whispers on its way;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And desert silence reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon the mighty plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where battles' thunders peal'd—and where are they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">But still from age to age<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon its pilgrimage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When many a glorious strain the world hath flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And while her echoes sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In darkness, the great deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwearied and unchanged, goes sounding on.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_220" id="vol3Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ERSKINE_CONOLLY" id="vol3ERSKINE_CONOLLY"></a>ERSKINE CONOLLY.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh +Intelligencer</i> of the 23d December 1840; it is much to be remarked for +deep feeling and genuine tenderness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_221" id="vol3Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MARY_MACNEIL" id="vol3MARY_MACNEIL"></a>MARY MACNEIL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Kinloch of Kinloch."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Owre mountain an' meadowland glintin' fareweel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' thousands o' stars in the heavens were blinkin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As bright as the een o' sweet Mary Macneil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' glowin' wi' gladness she lean'd on her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her een-tellin' secrets she thought to conceal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly they wander'd whar nane might discover<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tryst o' young Ronald an' Mary Macneil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! Mary was modest, an' pure as the lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dew-draps o' mornin' in fragrance reveal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae fresh bloomin' flow'ret in hill or in valley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could rival the beauty of Mary Macneil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She moved, and the graces play'd sportive around her;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She smiled, and the hearts o' the cauldest wad thrill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sang, and the mavis cam listenin' in wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To claim a sweet sister in Mary Macneil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ae bitter blast on its fair promise blawin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae spring a' its beauty an' blossoms will steal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ae sudden blight on the gentle heart fa'in',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inflicts the deep wound nothing earthly can heal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simmer saw Ronald on glory's path hiein';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The autumn, his corse on the red battle fiel';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winter, the maiden found heartbroken, dyin';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' spring spread the green turf owre Mary Macneil!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_222" id="vol3Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THERE_S_A_THRILL_OF_EMOTION" id="vol3THERE_S_A_THRILL_OF_EMOTION"></a>THERE 'S A THRILL OF EMOTION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a thrill of emotion, half-painful, half-sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the object of untold affection we meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the pleasure remains, though the pang is as brief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the touch and recoil of the sensitive leaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a thrill of distress, between anger and dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a frown o'er the fair face of beauty is spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she smiles, and away the disturber is borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sunbeams dispelling the vapours of morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a thrill of endearment, all raptures above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the pure lip imprints the first fond kiss of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, like songs of our childhood, to memory clings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The longest, the last of terrestrial things.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_223" id="vol3Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3GEORGE_MENZIES" id="vol3GEORGE_MENZIES"></a>GEORGE MENZIES.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Woodstock Herald</i> newspaper. After a short illness, he +died at Woodstock, Canada West, on the 4th March 1847, in his +fifty-first year.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_224" id="vol3Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_BRAES_OF_AUCHINBLAE" id="vol3THE_BRAES_OF_AUCHINBLAE"></a>THE BRAES OF AUCHINBLAE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As clear is Luther's wave, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gay the grove, the vale as green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! the days that we have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are fled, and fled for aye, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! we have often fondly stray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Fordoun's green embow'ring glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mark'd the moonbeam as it play'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Luther's bonnie wave, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since then, full many a year and day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me have slowly pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from the braes of Auchinblae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far from love and thee, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we must part again, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not mine to linger here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, we must part—and, oh! I fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We meet not here again, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For on Culloden's bloody field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hapless Prince's fate is seal'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night to me it was reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sooth as the word of heaven, Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ere to-morrow's sun shall shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the heights of Galloquhine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand victims at the shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of tyranny shall bleed, Mary!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_225" id="vol3Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! hark! they come—the foemen come—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go; but wheresoe'er I roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thee my heart remains at home—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu, adieu for aye, Mary!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FARE_THEE_WEEL" id="vol3FARE_THEE_WEEL"></a>FARE THEE WEEL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fare thee weel, my bonnie lassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare thee weel for ever, Jessie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I ne'er again may meet thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell na me that I 'll forget thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By yon starry heavens I vow it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By my love!—(I mayna rue it)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this hour in which we sever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will love but thee for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should the hand of death arrest me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think my latest prayer hath blest thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the parting pang draws nearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will love thee aye the dearer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still my bosom's love I 'll cherish—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a spark that winna perish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I ne'er again may meet thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell na me that I 'll forget thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_226" id="vol3Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JOHN_SIM" id="vol3JOHN_SIM"></a>JOHN SIM.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_227" id="vol3Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3NAE_MAIR_WE_LL_MEET" id="vol3NAE_MAIR_WE_LL_MEET"></a>NAE MAIR WE 'LL MEET.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"We 'll meet beside the dusky glen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae mair we 'll meet again, my love, by yon burn side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair we 'll wander through the grove, by yon burn side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er again the mavis lay will we hail at close o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ne'er again we 'll stray down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet mem'ry oft will fondly brood on yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er haunts which we sae saft hae trod, by yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the walk wi' me thou 'lt share, though thy foot can never mair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bend to earth the gowan fair, down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now far removed from every care, 'boon yon burn side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bloom'st, my love, an angel fair, 'boon yon burn side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if angels pity know, sure the tear for me will flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who must linger here below, down by yon burn side.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3BONNIE_PEGGY46" id="vol3BONNIE_PEGGY46"></a>BONNIE PEGGY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_46_46" id="vol3FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie lassie, O."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, we aft hae met at e'en, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the banks of Cart sae green, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the waters smoothly rin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far aneath the roarin' linn,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_228" id="vol3Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Far frae busy strife and din, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the lately crimson west, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her darker robe was dress'd, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a sky of azure blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deck'd with stars of golden hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose majestic to the view, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sound of flute or horn, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the gale of ev'ning borne, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We have heard in echoes die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the wave that rippled by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung a soft and sweet reply, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then how happy would we rove, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thou, blushing, own'd thy love, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilst thy quickly throbbing breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my beating heart I press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er was mortal half so blest, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, alas! these scenes are o'er, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, alas! we meet no more, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! never again, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will we meet at summer e'en<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_229" id="vol3Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">On the banks of Cart sae green, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet had'st thou been true to me, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I still hae been to thee, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then with bosom, oh, how light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had I hail'd the coming night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yon evening star so bright, bonnie Peggy, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3NOW_MARY_NOW_THE_STRUGGLE_S_OER47" id="vol3NOW_MARY_NOW_THE_STRUGGLE_S_OER47"></a>NOW, MARY, NOW THE STRUGGLE 'S O'ER.<a name="vol3FNanchor_47_47" id="vol3FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Gaelic Air.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The war of pride and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, Mary, now we meet no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless we meet above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Too well thou know'st how much I loved!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou knew'st my hopes how fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all these hopes are blighted now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They point but to despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus doom'd to ceaseless, hopeless love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I haste to India's shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here how can I longer stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And call thee mine no more?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And though I still must love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, Mary, here we meet no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, may we meet above!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_230" id="vol3Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_MOTHERWELL" id="vol3WILLIAM_MOTHERWELL"></a>WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_231" id="vol3Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>Paisley +Magazine</i>, 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 <i>Paisley Advertiser</i>, a Conservative newspaper; and this office he +exchanged, in January 1830, for the editorship of the <i>Glasgow Courier</i>, +a more influential journal in the same political interests.</p> + +<p>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 <i>The Day</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_232" id="vol3Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_233" id="vol3Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3JEANIE_MORRISON48" id="vol3JEANIE_MORRISON48"></a>JEANIE MORRISON.<a name="vol3FNanchor_48_48" id="vol3FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through mony a weary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never, never can forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The luve o' life's young day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire that 's blawn on Beltane e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May weel be black gin Yule;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blacker fa' awaits the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where first fond luve grows cule.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thochts o' bygane years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fling their shadows owre my path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blind my een wi' tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sair and sick I pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As memory idly summons up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blithe blinks o' langsyne.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_234" id="vol3Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas then we twa did part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet time—sad time! twa bairns at schule,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twa bairns, and but ae heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leir ilk ither lear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remember'd evermair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When sitting on that bink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What our wee heads could think.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When baith bent doun owre ae braid page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' ae buik on our knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lips were on thy lesson—but<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lesson was in thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How cheeks brent red wi' shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We cleek'd thegither hame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mind ye o' the Saturdays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(The schule then skailt at noon)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we ran aff to speel the braes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The broomy braes o' June?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My head rins round and round about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart flows like a sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ane by ane the thoughts rush back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' schule-time and o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, mornin' life! oh, mornin' luve!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, lichtsome days and lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hinnied hopes around our hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like simmer blossoms sprang!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_235" id="vol3Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, mind ye, luve, how aft we left<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deavin', dinsome toun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander by the green burnside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear its waters croon?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simmer leaves hung owre our heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers burst round our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the gloamin o' the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The throssil whusslit sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The throssil whusslit in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The burn sang to the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we, with nature's heart in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Concerted harmonies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the knowe abune the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hours thegither sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the silentness o' joy, till baith<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' very gladness grat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tears trickled doun your cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had ony power to speak!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was a time, a blessed time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When hearts were fresh and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When freely gush'd all feelings forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unsyllabled—unsung!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin I hae been to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As closely twined wi' earliest thochts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ye hae been to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me gin their music fills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine heart, as it does mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, say gin e'er your heart grows grit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_236" id="vol3Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've borne a weary lot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my wanderings, far or near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye never were forgot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fount that first burst frae this heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still travels on its way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And channels deeper as it rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The luve o' life's young day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since we were sinder'd young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've never seen your face, nor heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music o' your tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I could hug all wretchedness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And happy could I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I but ken your heart still dream'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' bygane days and me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3WEARIES_WELL" id="vol3WEARIES_WELL"></a>WEARIE'S WELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a saft simmer gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon dowie dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was there we twa first met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Wearie's cauld well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sat on the broom bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And look'd in the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sidelang we look'd on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ilk ither in turn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The corncraik was chirming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His sad eerie cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wee stars were dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their path through the sky;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_237" id="vol3Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The burn babbled freely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its love to ilk flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we heard and we saw nought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that blessed hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We heard and we saw nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above or around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We felt that our luve lived,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loathed idle sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gazed on your sweet face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till tears fill'd my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they drapt on your wee loof—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A warld's wealth to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the winter snaw 's fa'ing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On bare holm and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cauld wind is strippin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ilk leaf aff the tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the snaw fa's not faster,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor leaf disna part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sune frae the bough, as<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faith fades in your heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You 've waled out anither<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your bridegroom to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But can his heart luve sae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As mine luvit thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll get biggings and mailins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mony braw claes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they a' winna buy back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peace o' past days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel, and for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My first luve and last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May thy joys be to come—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine live in the past.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_238" id="vol3Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In sorrow and sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This hour fa's on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But light, as thy luve, may<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It fleet over thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3WAE_BE_TO_THE_ORDERS" id="vol3WAE_BE_TO_THE_ORDERS"></a>WAE BE TO THE ORDERS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! wae be to the orders that march'd my luve awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wae be to the cruel cause that gars my tears down fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! wae be to the bluidy wars in Hie Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they hae ta'en my luve, and left a broken heart to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The drums beat in the mornin', afore the screich o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wee, wee fifes play'd loud and shrill, while yet the morn was gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie flags were a' unfurl'd, a gallant sight to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But waes me for my sodger lad that march'd to Germanie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! lang, lang is the travel to the bonnie Pier o' Leith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! dreich it is to gang on foot wi' the snaw drift in the teeth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, the cauld wind froze the tear that gather'd in my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I gaed there to see my luve embark for Germanie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd owre the braid blue sea, sae lang as could be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wee bit sail upon the ship that my sodger lad was in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wind was blawin' sair an' snell, and the ship sail'd speedilie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waves and cruel wars hae twinn'd my winsome luve frae me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_239" id="vol3Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never think o' dancin', and I downa try to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' the day I speir what news kind neibour bodies bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sometimes knit a stocking, if knittin' it may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne for every loop that I cast on, I 'm sure to let doun three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father says I 'm in a pet, my mither jeers at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bans me for a dautit wean, in dorts for aye to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little weet they o' the cause that drumles sae my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! they hae nae winsome love like mine, in the wars o' Germanie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND_2" id="vol3THE_MIDNIGHT_WIND_2"></a>THE MIDNIGHT WIND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mournfully, oh, mournfully<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This midnight wind doth sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some sweet plaintive melody<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of ages long gone by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It speaks a tale of other years—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of hopes that bloom'd to die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sunny smiles that set in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loves that mouldering lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mournfully, oh, mournfully<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This midnight wind doth moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It stirs some chord of memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In each dull heavy tone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voices of the much-loved dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem floating thereupon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all my fond heart cherished,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere death hath made it lone.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_240" id="vol3Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mournfully, oh, mournfully<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This midnight wind doth swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its quaint pensive minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope's passionate farewell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the dreamy joys of early years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere yet grief's canker fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the heart's bloom—ay, well may tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Start at that parting knell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HE_IS_GONE_HE_IS_GONE" id="vol3HE_IS_GONE_HE_IS_GONE"></a>HE IS GONE! HE IS GONE!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is gone! he is gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the leaf from the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the down that is blown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the wind o'er the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is fled—the light-hearted!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet a tear must have started<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his eye when he parted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From love-stricken me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is fled! he is fled!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a gallant so free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plumed cap on his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sharp sword by his knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his gay feathers flutter'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely something he mutter'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He at least must have utter'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A farewell to me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_241" id="vol3Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's away! he 's away!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To far lands o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long is the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere home he can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where'er his steed prances<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid thronging lances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure he 'll think of the glances<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love stole from me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is gone! he is gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the leaf from the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his heart is of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If it ne'er dream of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I dream of him ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His buff-coat and beaver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long sword, oh! never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are absent from me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_242" id="vol3Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3DAVID_MACBETH_MOIR" id="vol3DAVID_MACBETH_MOIR"></a>DAVID MACBETH MOIR.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Cheap +Magazine</i>, 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 +<i>Constable's Edinburgh Magazine</i>. Soon after the establishment of +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, he became one of its more conspicuous +contributors; and his poetical contributions, which were generally +subscribed by his literary <i>nom de guerre</i>, the Greek letter Delta +(Δ), 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,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_243" id="vol3Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> originally +supplied in a series of chpters to <i>Blackwood</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_244" id="vol3Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_245" id="vol3Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CASA_WAPPY49" id="vol3CASA_WAPPY49"></a>CASA WAPPY.<a name="vol3FNanchor_49_49" id="vol3FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hast thou sought thy heavenly home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our fond, dear boy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The realms where sorrow dare not come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where life is joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure at thy death as at thy birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy spirit caught no taint from earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even by its bliss we mete our dearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Despair was in our last farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As closed thine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears of our anguish may not tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thou didst die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words may not paint our grief for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs are but bubbles on the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our unfathom'd agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wert a vision of delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bless us given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty embodied to our sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A type of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dear to us thou wert, thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even less thine own self than a part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mine and of thy mother's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_246" id="vol3Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy bright, brief day knew no decline—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas cloudless joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunrise and night alone were thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beloved boy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morn beheld thee blithe and gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That found thee prostrate in decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ere a third shone, clay was clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gem of our hearth, our household pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth's undefiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could love have saved, thou hadst not died,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our dear, sweet child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humbly we bow to fate's decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet had we hoped that time should see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee mourn for us, not us for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do what I may, go where I will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou meet'st my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There dost thou glide before me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A form of light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel thy breath upon my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee smile, I hear thee speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, oh! my heart is like to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nursery shews thy pictured wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy bat, thy bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where art thou?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_247" id="vol3Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A corner holds thine empty chair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy playthings, idly scatter'd there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But speak to us of our despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We mourn for thee when blind, blank night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chamber fills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We pine for thee when morn's first light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reddens the hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All—to the wallflower and wild pea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are changed—we saw the world through thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Snows muffled earth when thou didst go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In life's spring-bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to the appointed house below—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silent tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now the green leaves of the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cuckoo, and "the busy bee,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return, but with them bring not thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis so! but can it be—(while flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revive again)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's doom in death—that we and ours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For aye remain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! can it be that o'er the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass, renew'd, should yearly wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet God forget our child to save?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_248" id="vol3Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It cannot be; for were it so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus man could die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life were a mockery—thought were woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And truth a lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven were a coinage of the brain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Religion frenzy—virtue vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all our hopes to meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then be to us, O dear, lost child!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With beam of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A star—death's uncongenial wild—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon, soon thy little feet have trod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The skyward path, the seraph's road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led thee back from man to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond, fairest boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heaven is God's, and thou art there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With him in joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There past are death and all its woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There beauty's stream for ever flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasure's day no sunset knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, then—for a while farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride of my heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cannot be that long we dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus torn apart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time's shadows like the shuttle flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dark howe'er life's night may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the grave I 'll meet with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Casa Wappy!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_249" id="vol3Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FAREWELL_OUR_FATHERS_LAND" id="vol3FAREWELL_OUR_FATHERS_LAND"></a>FAREWELL, OUR FATHERS' LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, our fathers' land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Valley and fountain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, old Scotland's strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forest and mountain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hush the drum and hush the flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be the stirring bagpipe mute—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such sounds may not with sorrow suit—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fare thee well, Lochaber!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This plume and plaid no more will see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor philabeg, nor dirk at knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor even the broadswords which Dundee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bade flash at Killiecrankie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Farewell, our fathers' land, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now when of yore, on bank and brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our loyal clansmen marshall'd gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far downward scowls Bennevis gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On sheep-walks spreading lonely.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Farewell, our fathers' land, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For now we cross the stormy sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! never more to look on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor on thy dun deer, bounding free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Etive glens to Morven.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Farewell, our fathers' land, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_250" id="vol3Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>&c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy mountain air no more we 'll breathe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The household sword shall eat the sheath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While rave the wild winds o'er the heath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where our gray sires are sleeping.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then farewell, our fathers' land, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HEIGH-HO" id="vol3HEIGH-HO"></a>HEIGH-HO!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A pretty young maiden sat on the grass—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by a blithe young shepherd did pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the summer morning so early.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said he, "My lass, will you go with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cot to keep and my bride to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow and want shall never touch thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will love you rarely?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O! no, no, no!" the maiden said—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bashfully turn'd aside her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On that summer morning so early.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My mother is old, my mother is frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our cottage it lies in yon green dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare not list to any such tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I love my kind mother rarely."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shepherd took her lily-white hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on her beauty did gazing stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On that summer morning so early.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_251" id="vol3Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy mother I ask thee not to leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone in her frail old age to grieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my home can hold us all, believe—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will that not please thee fairly?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O! no, no, no! I am all too young"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I dare not list to a young man's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a summer morning so early."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the shepherd to gain her heart was bent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft she strove to go, but she never went;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at length she fondly blush'd consent—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven blesses true lovers so fairly.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_252" id="vol3Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ROBERT_FRASER" id="vol3ROBERT_FRASER"></a>ROBERT FRASER.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>, and other +periodicals. A series of misfortunes led to his renouncing business, and +in 1838 he accepted the editorship of the <i>Fife Herald</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_253" id="vol3Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3OH_I_LOED_MY_LASSIE_WEEL" id="vol3OH_I_LOED_MY_LASSIE_WEEL"></a>OH, I LO'ED MY LASSIE WEEL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How weel I canna tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang, lang ere ithers trow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lang ere I wist mysel'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the school amang the lave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I wrestled or I ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cared na' for the prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she saw me when I wan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, I lo'ed my lassie weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thae gleesome days were gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang a' the bonnie an' the gude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To match her saw I nane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the cauld warl' o'er me cam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its cumber an' its toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My day-tide dool was a' forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her blithe e'enin' smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, I lo'ed, nor lo'ed in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' though mony cam to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha to won her wad been fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet to me she aye was true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She grat wi' very joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our waddin' day was set;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though twal' gude years sinsyne hae fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's my darling lassie yet.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_254" id="vol3Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JAMES_HISLOP" id="vol3JAMES_HISLOP"></a>JAMES HISLOP.</h2> + +<p>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 in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_255" id="vol3Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>discriminate +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 <i>Edinburgh Magazine</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Magazine</i> 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 +<i>Edinburgh Magazine</i>, 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 aban<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_256" id="vol3Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>doned. 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_257" id="vol3Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_CAMERONIANS_DREAM"></a>THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a dream of the night, I was wafted away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the muirlands of mist where the martyrs lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the minister's home was the mountain and wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bloody and torn, 'mong the heather was lying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas morning, and summer's young sun from the east<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay in lovely repose on the green mountain's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Wardlaw and Cairntable, the clear shining dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glisten'd sheen 'mong the heath-bells and mountain-flowers blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And far up in heaven, in a white sunny cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song of the lark was melodious and loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in Glenmuir's wild solitudes, lengthen'd and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Wellwood's sweet valley breathed music and gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its daughters were happy to hail the returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink the delights of July's sweet morning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, ah! there were hearts cherish'd far other feelings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_258" id="vol3Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conceal'd 'mong the mist where the heath-fowl were crying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their bridle-reins rung through the thin misty covering.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheath'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes raised to heaven, in calm resignation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sung their last song to the God of salvation.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hills with the sweet mournful music were ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curlew and plover in concert were singing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the melody died 'midst derision and laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the host of ungodly rush'd on to the slaughter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dark eyes flash'd lightning, as, proud and unbending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood like the rock which the thunder was rending.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens grew black, and the thunder was rolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its burning wheels turn'd upon axles of brightness.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_259" id="vol3Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A seraph unfolded its door, bright and shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have mounted the chariot and steeds of salvation.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3HOW_SWEET_THE_DEWY_BELL_IS_SPREAD" id="vol3HOW_SWEET_THE_DEWY_BELL_IS_SPREAD"></a>HOW SWEET THE DEWY BELL IS SPREAD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet the dewy bell is spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Spango's mossy streams are lavin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heathery locks o' deepenin' red,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the mountain brow aye wavin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, on the sunny mountain side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear lassie, we 'll lie down thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Nature spreads luve's crimson bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among the bonnie bloomin' heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lang hae I wish'd, my lovely maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang thae fragrant wilds to lead ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, aneath my tartan plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How blest I lie wi' you aside me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And art thou happy—dearest, speak—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' me aneath the tartan plaidie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes; that dear glance, sae saft and meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Resigns thee to thy shepherd laddie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_260" id="vol3Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The saftness o' the gentle dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its eyes in dying sweetness closin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like thae languid eyes o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae fondly on my heart reposin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When simmer suns the flowers expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a' their silken beauties shinin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're no sae saft as thy white hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon my love-warm cheek reclinin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While thus, aneath my tartan plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae warmly to my lips I press ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hinnied bloom o' dewy red<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is nocht like thy sweet lips, dear lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reclined on love's soft crimson bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts sae fondly lock'd thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus o'er my cheek thy ringlets spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How happy, happy 'mang the heather!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_261" id="vol3Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3ROBERT_GILFILLAN" id="vol3ROBERT_GILFILLAN"></a>ROBERT GILFILLAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_262" id="vol3Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3MANOR_BRAES" id="vol3MANOR_BRAES"></a>MANOR BRAES.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Logan Water."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where Manor stream rins blithe an' clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Castlehill's white wa's appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spent ae day, aboon a' days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Manor stream, 'mang Manor braes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple heath was just in bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bonnie waved the upland broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flocks on flowery braes lay still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, heedless, wander'd at their will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas there, 'mid Nature's calm repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Manor clearest, saftest flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met a maiden fair to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' modest look and bashfu' e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauty to the mind did bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A morn where summer blends wi' spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bright, so pure, so calm, so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas bliss to look—to linger there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ilk word cam frae her bosom warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' love to win and sense to charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much of nature, nought of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll live enthroned within my heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aboon her head the laverock sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'neath her feet the wild-flowers sprang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me dwell, where beauty strays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Manor stream an' Manor braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I speir'd gif ane sae young an' fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knew aught of love, wi' a' its care?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said her heart frae love was free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye she blush'd wi' downcast e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_263" id="vol3Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The parting cam, as partings come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' looks that speak, though tongues be dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I 'll return, ere many days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live an' love 'mang Manor braes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3FARE_THEE_WELL" id="vol3FARE_THEE_WELL"></a>FARE THEE WELL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Roy's Wife."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fare thee well, for I must leave thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, oh, let not our parting grieve thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happier days may yet be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At least I wish them thine—believe me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We part—but by those dew-drops clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love for thee will last for ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leave thee—but thy image dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy tender smiles, will leave me never.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Fare thee well, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! dry those pearly tears that flow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One farewell smile before we sever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only balm for parting woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is—fondly hope 'tis not for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Fare thee well, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though dark and dreary lowers the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calm and serene may be the morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup of pleasure ne'er shone bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without some mingling drops of sorrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fare thee well, for I must leave thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But, oh, let not our parting grieve thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Happier days may yet be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At least I wish them thine—believe me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_264" id="vol3Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_FIRST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER" id="vol3THE_FIRST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER"></a>THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the first rose of summer that opes to my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its bright crimson bosom all bathed in the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bows to its green leaves with pride from its throne—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the queen of the valley, and reigneth alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! why, lovely stranger! thus early in bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou here to assure us that summer is come?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The primrose and harebell appear with the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tidings of summer the young roses bring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou fair gift of nature (I welcome the boon),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was 't the lark of the morning that 'woke thee so soon?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I weep, thou sweet floweret! for soon, from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark shall repose where thy leaves wither'd lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if beauty could save thee, thou ne'er wouldst decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, alas! soon thou 'lt perish and wither away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy kindred may blossom, and blossom as fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I 'll mourn, lonely rosebud! when thou art not there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_EXILES_SONG" id="vol3THE_EXILES_SONG"></a>THE EXILE'S SONG.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"My ain Countrie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! why left I my hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why did I cross the deep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! why left I the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where my forefathers sleep?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_265" id="vol3Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh for Scotia's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I gaze across the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I canna get a blink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The palm-tree waveth high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fair the myrtle springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the Indian maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bulbul sweetly sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I dinna see the broom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its tassels on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hear the lintie's sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! here no Sabbath bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awakes the Sabbath morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor song of reapers heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the yellow corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the tyrant's voice is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wail of slaverie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun of freedom shines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my ain countrie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a hope for every woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a balm for every pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the first joys o' our heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come never back again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a track upon the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a path across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the weary ne'er return<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To their ain countrie!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_266" id="vol3Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_HAPPY_DAYS_O_YOUTH" id="vol3THE_HAPPY_DAYS_O_YOUTH"></a>THE HAPPY DAYS O' YOUTH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And age is coming on, wi' its bleak winter sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' whar shall we shelter frae its storms when they blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the gladsome days o' youth are flown awa'?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They said that wisdom cam wi' manhood's riper years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But naething did they tell o' its sorrows an' tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I 'd gie a' the wit, gif ony wit be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ae sunny morning o' bonnie langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna dow but sigh, I canna dow but mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the blithe happy days that never can return;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When joy was in the heart, an' love was on the tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mirth on ilka face, for ilka face was young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the bonnie weaving broom, whaur aften we did meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' its yellow flowers that fell like gowd 'mang our feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bird would stop its sang, but only for a wee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we gaed by its nest, 'neath its ain birk-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the sunny days o' youth, they couldna aye remain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was ower meikle joy and ower little pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae fareweel, happy days! an' fareweel, youthfu' glee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young may court your smiles, but ye 're gane frae me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_267" id="vol3Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3TIS_SAIR_TO_DREAM" id="vol3TIS_SAIR_TO_DREAM"></a>'TIS SAIR TO DREAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis sair to dream o' them we like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That waking we sall never see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet oh! how kindly was the smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My laddie in my sleep gave me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought we sat beside the burn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wimples down the flowery glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, in our early days o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We met that ne'er sall meet again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The simmer sun sank 'neath the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gladden'd wi' his parting ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woodland wild and valley green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast fading into gloamin' gray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He talk'd of days o' future joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet my heart was haflins sair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when his eye it beam'd on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A withering death-like glance was there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I thought him dead, and then I thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That life was young and love was free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For o'er our heads the mavis sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hameward hied the janty bee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We pledged our love and plighted troth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But cauld, cauld was the kiss he gave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, starting from my dream, I found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His troth was plighted to the grave!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_268" id="vol3Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna weep, for hope is fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nought would do but silent mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were 't no for dreams that should na come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whisper back my love's return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis sair to dream o' them we like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That waking we sall never see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, oh! how kindly was the smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My laddie in my sleep gave me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_269" id="vol3Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_270" id="vol3Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_271" id="vol3Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="vol3WILLIAM_ROSS" id="vol3WILLIAM_ROSS"></a>WILLIAM ROSS.</h2> + +<p>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 (<i>uisg-bea</i>) 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_272" id="vol3Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_HIGHLAND_MAY" id="vol3THE_HIGHLAND_MAY"></a>THE HIGHLAND MAY.</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the maids of the Lowlands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vaunt their silks and their Hollands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the garb of the Highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh give me my dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such a figure for grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the Loves such a face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for lightness the pace<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That the grass shall not stir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lips of cherry confine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teeth of ivory shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with blushes combine<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To keep us in thrall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy converse exceeding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All eloquent pleading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy voice never needing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To rival the fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the music of art,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal their way to the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And resistless impart<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their enchantment to all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When <i>Beltane</i> is over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer joys hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thee a glad rover<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I 'll wander along,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_273" id="vol3Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where the harp-strings of nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are strung by each creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sleep shall be sweeter<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That lulls to their song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, bounding together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the lawn of the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free from the tether,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The heifers shall throng.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There shall pasture the ewes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the spotted goats browse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the kids shall arouse<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In their madness of play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall butt, they shall fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall emulate flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall break with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er the mountains away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there shall my Mary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her faithful one tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never be weary<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the hollows to stray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While a concert shall cheer us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the bushes are near us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the birds shall not fear us,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We 'll harbour so still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strains the mavis his throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lends the cuckoo her note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the world is forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By the side of the hill.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_274" id="vol3Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_CELT_AND_THE_STRANGER" id="vol3THE_CELT_AND_THE_STRANGER"></a>THE CELT AND THE STRANGER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dawn it is breaking; but lonesome and eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the hour of my waking, afar from the glen.<a name="vol3FNanchor_50_50" id="vol3FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that I ever came a wanderer hither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the tongue of the stranger is racking my brain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cleft in twain is my heart, all my pleasure betraying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The half is behind, but the better is straying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shade of the hills and the copses away in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the truant I call to the Lowlands in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know why it wanders,—it is to be treading<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where long I frequented the haunts of my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meadow so dewy, the glades so o'erspreading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the gowans to lean on, the mavis to cheer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is to be tending where heifers are wending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the birds, with the music of love, are contending;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rapture, its passion to innocence lending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a dance in my soul, and a song in my ear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3CORMACS_CURE" id="vol3CORMACS_CURE"></a>CORMAC'S CURE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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 conse<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_275" id="vol3Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>quences 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. </p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus sung the minstrel Cormac, his anguish to beguile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid his hand upon his harp, and struck the strings the while—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Since they have taught my lady fair on her poet's gifts to frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deeper swellings of the lay, I 'll learn my love to drown."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Colin Cormac's guilty grasp was closing with the spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush'd in the chieftain's heir, and cried, "What frenzied mood is here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure many a May of ruby ray, as blushful on the brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rosy on the lip, is there—then, why so frantic thou?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heart-struck minstrel heard the word; and though his flame, uncured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fired his soul, in haste the shores of danger he abjured:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye he rung his harp, though now it knew another strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud arose its warblings as the sounding of the main.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_276" id="vol3Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! 'twas an organ peal that soar'd the vocal lift along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chorus'd to the high-strung harp his words of mightier song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest, hapless chance! should rise, above the swelling of the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A remnant of the ambitious love that sought a noble bride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I, alas! no language find, of Sassenach or Gael,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor note of music in the land, my cureless woe to quail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And art thou gone, without a word, without a kindly look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of smiling comfort, on the bard whose life thy beauty shook?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not so it fared with Cormac; for thus the tale is told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never, to the last, he brook'd desertion's bitter cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His comrades sorrow'd round him; his dear vouchsafed a kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He almost thought he heard her sigh, "<i>Come back again to bliss!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_LAST_LAY_OF_LOVE" id="vol3THE_LAST_LAY_OF_LOVE"></a>THE LAST LAY OF LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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. </p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reft the charm of the social shell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the touch of the sorrowful mood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And already the worm, in her cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is preparing the birth of her brood.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_277" id="vol3Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She blanches the hue of my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And exposes my desperate love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor needs it that death should bespeak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hurt no remeid can remove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The step, 'twas a pleasure to trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even that has withdrawn from the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, now, not a breeze can displace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A leaf from its summit of green<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So prostrate and fallen to lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So far from the branch where it hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, in dust and in helplessness, I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the hope to which passion had clung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, benison bide! where thy choice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deems its bliss and its treasure secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the months in thy blessings rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While their rise and their wane shall endure!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For me, a poor warrior, in blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By thy arrow-shot steep'd, I am prone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glow of ambition subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The weapons of rivalry gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, cruel to mock me, the base<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who scoff at the name of the bard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scorn the degree of my race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their toil and their travail, is hard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since one, a bold yeoman ne'er drew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A furrow unstraight or unpaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the other, to righteousness true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hung even the scales of his trade.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_278" id="vol3Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I—ah! they should not compel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waken the theme of my praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can boast over hundreds, to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a chief in the conflict of lays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now it is over—the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bounded, the hearing that thrill'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the song-fight shall never take part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weakness gives warning to yield.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the discord that raves 'neath the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is raised by the dash of the spray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When waters are battling aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bewilderment bears me away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And to measure the song in its charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or to handle the viol with skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or beauty with carols to warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gone for ever, the power and the will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No never, no never, ascend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the mountain-pass glories, shall I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cheer of the chase to unbend;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enough, it is left but to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet, shall I go to my rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the dead of my brothers repair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the hall of the bards, not unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That their worthies before me are there?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_279" id="vol3Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3LACHLAN_MACVURICH" id="vol3LACHLAN_MACVURICH"></a>LACHLAN MACVURICH.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_280" id="vol3Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3THE_EXILE_OF_CLUNY" id="vol3THE_EXILE_OF_CLUNY"></a>THE EXILE OF CLUNY.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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. </p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, many a true Highlander, many a liegeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is blank on the roll of the brave in our land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bare as its heath is the dark mountain region,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its own and its prince's defenders unmann'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hound's death abhorr'd, some have died by the cord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the axe with the best of our blood is defiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en to the visions of hope unrestored,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some have gone from among us, for ever exiled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is gone from among us, our chieftain of Cluny;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the back of the steel, a more valiant ne'er stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our father, our champion, bemoan we, bemoan we!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In battle, the brilliant; in friendship, the good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sea shut him from us, then the cross of our trial<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was hung on the mast and was swung in the wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Woe the worth we have sepulchred!" now is the cry all;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Save the shade of a memory, is nothing behind."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_281" id="vol3Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What symbols may match our brave chief's animation?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his wrath was awake, 'twas a furnace in glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a surge on the rock struck his bold indignation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the breach to the wall was his arm to the foe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the tempest comes down, when it lends in its fury<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the frown of its darkness the rattling of hail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rushes the land-flood in turmoil and hurry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So bickers the hill-flame when fed by the gale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet gentle as Peace was the flower of his race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rare was shade on his face, as dismay in his heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brawl and the scuffle he deem'd a disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the hand to the brand was as ready to start.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could grapple with him in firmness of limb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sureness of sinew? and—for the stout blow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the scythe to the swathe in the meadows of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where numbers were levell'd as fast and as low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ever loyal to reason, we 've seen him appeasing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a wave of one hand the confusion of strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the other unsheathing his sword, and, unbreathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Following on for the right in the havoc of life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wants of the helpless, the wail of the weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hand aye was open, his arm was aye strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And under yon sun, not a tongue can bespeak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His word or his deed that was blemish'd with wrong.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_282" id="vol3Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3JAMES_MLAGGAN" id="vol3JAMES_MLAGGAN"></a>JAMES M'LAGGAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_283" id="vol3Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol3FNanchor_51_51" id="vol3FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#vol3Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_284" id="vol3Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol3SONG_OF_THE_ROYAL_HIGHLAND_REGIMENT" id="vol3SONG_OF_THE_ROYAL_HIGHLAND_REGIMENT"></a>SONG OF THE ROYAL HIGHLAND REGIMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For success, a prayer, with a farewell, bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the warriors dear of the muir and the valley—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lads that convene in their plaiding of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the curtal coat, and the sweeping <i>eil-e</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their belts array'd, where the dark blue blade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is hung, with the dirk at the side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sword is at large, and uplifted the targe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha! not a foe the boys will abide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The followers in peril of Ian the Earl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The race of the wight of hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink the eyes of the foe, of the friend's mounts the glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the Murdoch's high blood takes command.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Loudon to lead ye, the wise and the steady,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The daring in fight and the glorious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the lightning ye 'll rush, with the sword's bright flash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And return to your mountains victorious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sons of the Lion! your watch is the wild-lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garb of the Highlands is mingled with blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the target and bosses are bright in the Highlands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The axe in your hands might be blunted well, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then forward—and see ye be huntsmen true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, as erst the red deer felling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fell ye the Gaul, and so strike ye all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tribes in the backwoods dwelling.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_285" id="vol3Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where ocean is roaring, let top-sails be towering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sails to the motion of helm be flying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though high as the mountain, or smooth as the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fierce as the boiling floods angrily crying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the tide with a stroke be assailing the rock;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, once let the pibroch's wild signal be heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the waves will come bending in dimples befriending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And beckoning the friends of their country on board.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean-tide 's swelling, its fury is quelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In salute of thunder proclaiming your due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, methinks, that the hum of a welcome is come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is warbling the Jorram to you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When your levy is landed, oh, bright as the pearls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall the strangers who welcome you, gladly and greeting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak beautiful thoughts; aye, the beautiful girls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From their eyes shall the tears o'er the ruby be meeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And encounter ye, praying, from the storm and the slaying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"From the stranger, the enemy, save us, oh save!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From rapine and plunder, oh tear us asunder,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our noble defenders are ever the brave!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If the fondest ye of true lovers be,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So cries each trembling beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Be bold in the fight, and give transport's delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To your friends and the fair, by your duty."<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Oh, yes!" shall the beautiful hastily cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Oh, yes!" in a word, shall the valiant reply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By our womanly faith we pledge you for both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For where'er we contract, and where'er we betroth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We vow with the daring to die!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_286" id="vol3Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faithful to trust is the lion-like host<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom the dawn of their youth doth inure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hunger's worst ire, and to action's bold fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to ranging the wastes of the moor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accustom'd so well to each enterprise snell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be the chase or the warfare their quarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye ever they fight the best, for the right<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the strike of the swords, when they hurry.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_287" id="vol3Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol3GLOSSARY" id="vol3GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + +<p><i>Ahin'</i>, behind.</p> + +<p><i>Auld-farrant</i>, sagacious, cunning.</p> + +<p><i>Baudrons</i>, a cat.</p> + +<p><i>Beltane</i>, the 1st of May.</p> + +<p><i>Bield</i>, shelter.</p> + +<p><i>Bink</i>, a bank of earth.</p> + +<p><i>Birk</i>, birch.</p> + +<p><i>Blae</i>, blue.</p> + +<p><i>Blaud</i>, a flat piece of anything, to slap.</p> + +<p><i>Blinket</i>, looked kindly.</p> + +<p><i>Bonnie</i>, beautiful.</p> + +<p><i>Burnie</i>, a small rivulet.</p> + +<p><i>Byke</i>, a bee-hive.</p> + +<p><i>Cannily</i>, gently, dexterously.</p> + +<p><i>Cauldrife</i>, coldish.</p> + +<p><i>Chanter</i>, the drone of a bagpipe.</p> + +<p><i>Cleugh</i>, a cliff.</p> + +<p><i>Clutch</i>, seize.</p> + +<p><i>Coble</i>, a fishing-boat.</p> + +<p><i>Couthilie</i>, kindly.</p> + +<p><i>Crack</i>, to converse.</p> + +<p><i>Cuiff</i>, a blockhead.</p> + +<p><i>Daffin'</i>, diversion.</p> + +<p><i>Dautit</i>, fondled, caressed.</p> + +<p><i>Dighted</i>, wiped.</p> + +<p><i>Doited</i>, very stupid.</p> + +<p><i>Donnart</i>, stupified.</p> + +<p><i>Dow</i>, wither.</p> + +<p><i>Dowie</i>, sad, worn with grief.</p> + +<p><i>Dree</i>, suffer, endure.</p> + +<p><i>Dreich</i>, tedious.</p> + +<p><i>Dunt</i>, a knock.</p> + +<p><i>Eerie</i>, dreading things supernatural.</p> + +<p><i>Fashious</i>, troublesome.</p> + +<p><i>Fause</i>, false.</p> + +<p><i>Ferlies</i>, wonders.</p> + +<p><i>Flate</i>, scolded.</p> + +<p><i>Flow</i>, a small quantity.</p> + +<p><i>Gar</i>, compel.</p> + +<p><i>Gauds</i>, trinkets.</p> + +<p><i>Gawkie</i>, a thoughtless person.</p> + +<p><i>Gif</i>, if.</p> + +<p><i>Gilphie</i>, a half-grown person, a romping lad.</p> + +<p><i>Glaiks</i>, foolish talk.</p> + +<p><i>Gowd</i>, gold.</p> + +<p><i>Gree</i>, agree.</p> + +<p><i>Greet</i>, weep.</p> + +<p><i>Haddin</i>, a farmer's stock.</p> + +<p><i>Haffit-links</i>, a necklace.</p> + +<p><i>Haflins</i>, nearly half, partly.</p> + +<p><i>Haps</i>, outer garments.</p> + +<p><i>Haud</i>, hold.</p> + +<p><i>Hinnied</i>, honied.</p> + +<p><i>Hodden</i>, a coarse kind of cloth.</p> + +<p><i>Hummel</i>, humble.</p> + +<p><i>Kame</i>, comb.</p> + +<p><i>Ken</i>, know.</p> + +<p><i>Kilt</i>, to truss up the clothes.</p> + +<p><i>Kye</i>, cattle.</p> + +<p><i>Laigh</i>, low.</p> + +<p><i>Leal</i>, loyal, true.</p> + +<p><i>Lear</i>, learning.</p> + +<p><i>Lick</i>, wipe, beat.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, the sky.</p> + +<p><i>Litheless</i>, listless.</p> + +<p><i>Loonie</i>, a little fellow.</p> + +<p><i>Loupin'</i>, leaping.</p> + +<p><i>Losh</i>, an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p><i>Lowne</i>, warm.</p> + +<p><i>Maen</i>, moan, complain.</p> + +<p><i>Mailin</i>, a tax, a rent.</p> + +<p><i>Maw</i>, to mow, the stomach.</p> + +<p><i>Meikle</i>, much.</p> + +<p><i>Mim</i>, prim.</p> + +<p><i>Mirk</i>, dark.</p> + +<p><i>Muter</i>, multure, ground corn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol3Page_288" id="vol3Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Neivefu'</i>, a handful.</p> + +<p><i>Newfangled</i>, newfashioned.</p> + +<p><i>Nit</i>, a nut.</p> + +<p><i>Owre</i>, over.</p> + +<p><i>Pow</i>, the head.</p> + +<p><i>Pree</i>, to taste, to kiss.</p> + +<p><i>Puirtith</i>, poverty.</p> + +<p><i>Racket</i>, stretched.</p> + +<p><i>Scaur</i>, to scare, a wound.</p> + +<p><i>Scoured</i>, burnished, ran.</p> + +<p><i>Scunner'd</i>, disgusted.</p> + +<p><i>Shiel</i>, a temporary cottage or hut.</p> + +<p><i>Siccan</i>, such.</p> + +<p><i>Siching</i>, sighing.</p> + +<p><i>Skailt</i>, emptied, scattered.</p> + +<p><i>Souch</i>, the sighing of the wind, the breathing of a tune.</p> + +<p><i>Speer'd</i>, inquired.</p> + +<p><i>Steer</i>, stir.</p> + +<p><i>Syne</i>, then, since.</p> + +<p><i>Tauld</i>, told.</p> + +<p><i>Tentie</i>, heedful, cautious.</p> + +<p><i>Tentin'</i>, leading.</p> + +<p><i>Tint</i>, lost.</p> + +<p><i>Trantlooms</i>, odds and ends.</p> + +<p><i>Wauken</i>, awaken.</p> + +<p><i>Waukrife</i>, watchful, sleepless.</p> + +<p><i>Waunert</i>, wandered.</p> + +<p><i>Wean</i>, a child.</p> + +<p><i>Wee</i>, little.</p> + +<p><i>Weel-faur'd</i>, well-favoured.</p> + +<p><i>Weir</i>, war, to herd.</p> + +<p><i>Whusslit</i>, whistled.</p> + +<p><i>Wooster-trystes</i>, wool-markets.</p> + +<p><i>Yird</i>, earth, soil.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'>END OF VOL. III.</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_1_1" id="vol3Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_2_2" id="vol3Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_3_3" id="vol3Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> There is a curious instance of this in the song, "The +Blithesome Bridal."—Chambers's "Scottish Songs," p. 71.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_4_4" id="vol3Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Sibbald's "Chronicle of Scottish Poetry," vol. iii., p. +193.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_5_5" id="vol3Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Campbell has translated this fragment, but he has not +retained the simplicity of the original.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_6_6" id="vol3Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See vol. ii., p. <a href="#vol2Page_223">223</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_7_7" id="vol3Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_8_8" id="vol3Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_9_9" id="vol3Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_10_10" id="vol3Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> This song appeared in the <i>London Magazine</i>, 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_11_11" id="vol3Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_12_12" id="vol3Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_13_13" id="vol3Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_14_14" id="vol3Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> This song and that following are printed from the original +MSS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_15_15" id="vol3Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> This song was set to music by R. A. Smith.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_16_16" id="vol3Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_17_17" id="vol3Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> For a number of particulars in this memoir, we are +indebted to our venerated friend Mr Alexander Bald, of Alloa.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_18_18" id="vol3Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_19_19" id="vol3Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> A memoir of this estimable individual, chiefly from +materials found in his Diary, has been published by the London Tract +Society.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_20_20" id="vol3Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_21_21" id="vol3Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> These stanzas are an appropriate addition to the +well-known song of "Maggie Lauder," composed by Francis Semple, about +1660.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_22_22" id="vol3Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> The <i>East Green</i> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_23_23" id="vol3Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> The heroine of this song subsequently became the author's +wife.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_24_24" id="vol3Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> A third edition was published at Glasgow, by R. Chapman, +in 1817.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_25_25" id="vol3Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> "The Answer" is of inferior merit, and has therefore been +omitted.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_26_26" id="vol3Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> The present memoir is condensed from a well written +biographical sketch of Webster, obligingly prepared for our use by Mr +Charles Fleming, of Paisley.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_27_27" id="vol3Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Pate Birnie was a celebrated fiddler or violinist who +resided in Kinghorn, Fifeshire.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_28_28" id="vol3Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> An old designation for the city of Edinburgh, often used +by the Scottish poets.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_29_29" id="vol3Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> William Brown, D.D., author of "Antiquities of the Jews." +Lond., 1825, 2 vols. 8vo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_30_30" id="vol3Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> 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'.'"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_31_31" id="vol3Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> To Mr James C. Roger, of Glasgow, we have to acknowledge +our obligations for much diligent inquiry on the subject of this +memoir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_32_32" id="vol3Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Allanus Glen, <i>armiger</i>, 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_33_33" id="vol3Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> This song is understood to be a favourite with her present +Majesty.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_34_34" id="vol3Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> This song was composed while the author resided in the +West Indies. It is here printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_35_35" id="vol3Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Printed for the first time, from the author's MS. volume.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_36_36" id="vol3Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_37_37" id="vol3Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_38_38" id="vol3Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_39_39" id="vol3Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_40_40" id="vol3Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_41_41" id="vol3Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> The first stanza of this song is the composition of Robert +Tannahill.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_42_42" id="vol3Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> In his Life of Scott, Lockhart states that "Peter's +Letters" "were not wholly the work of one hand."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_43_43" id="vol3Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_44_44" id="vol3Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> This humorous elegy was first published in <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i> 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 <i>plainstanes</i>, 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 <i>politesse tout à fait Francais</i>, 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 <i>Courier</i>. The gallant Captain frequently indulged, like +Othello, in speaking— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Of moving incidents by flood and field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach.'<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_45_45" id="vol3Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> This simple and interesting lyric appears in No. XLVI. of +the "Noctes Ambrosianæ," and has, we believe, on sufficient grounds, +been attributed to Lockhart.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_46_46" id="vol3Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> 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, <i><a href="#vol4THOMAS_LYLE">postea</a></i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_47_47" id="vol3Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_48_48" id="vol3Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_49_49" id="vol3Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_50_50" id="vol3Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> This song was written in Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol3Footnote_51_51" id="vol3Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#vol3FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Macpherson afterwards consulted Mr M'Laggan's "Collection +of Ossianic Remains" (see report on Ossian, App. 153).</p></div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_iv_title.jpg" width="600" height="999" alt="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." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_iv_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="898" alt="Henry Scott Riddell. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane." title="" /> +<span class="caption"> +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & M<sup>c</sup>Farlane.</span> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. IV.</p> + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH:<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI.</p> + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 50%;">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +FRANCIS BENNOCH, ESQ., F.S.A.,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">ONE OF THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING SCOTTISH SONG-WRITERS, +AND THE MUNIFICENT PATRON OF MEN OF LETTERS,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THIS FOURTH VOLUME</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OF</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Scottish Minstrel<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">IS DEDICATED,<br /> +<br /> +WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ESTEEM,<br /> +<br /> +BY<br /> +<br /> +HIS VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT,<br /></span> +<br /> +CHARLES ROGERS.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_v" id="vol4Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE INFLUENCE OF BURNS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">ON</span><br /> +<br /> +SCOTTISH POETRY AND SONG:<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">An Essay.</span></h2> + +<h3>BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN.</h3> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>First of all, Burns felt, in common with his <i>forbears</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_vi" id="vol4Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> 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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Placed far amid the melancholy main,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Iona, which, being interpreted, means the "Island of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_vii" id="vol4Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> 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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rough bur-thistle spreadin' wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the bearded bear."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delighted with the dashing roar."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_viii" id="vol4Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And when the North his fleecy store<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drove through the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw grim Nature's visage hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Struck thy young eye;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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 <i>motion</i>, 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—-</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I like this rocking of the battlements.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rage on, ye winds; burst clouds, and waters roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And suit the gloomy habit of my soul."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Speak of passion, but of passion past."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_ix" id="vol4Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> 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 <i>his</i> bosom—constitutes the principal element in <i>their</i> +grandeur. It is curious, by the way, how few good descriptions there +exist in poetry of views <i>from</i> 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 <i>to</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>After all, Burns was more influenced by some other characteristics of +Scotland than he was by its scenery. There was, first, its romantic +history. <i>That</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_x" id="vol4Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> 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 <i>wean</i>, 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 <i>final cause</i> 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.</p> + +<p>Burns, too, doubtless derived much from previous poets. This is a common +case, as we have before<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_xi" id="vol4Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_xii" id="vol4Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> which turned out a +total failure. There was only one good piece in it all, and <i>that</i> 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 <i>per contra</i>, 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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She lay like some unkenned-of isle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ayont New Holland."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_xiii" id="vol4Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_xiv" id="vol4Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Men met each other with erected look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The steps were higher that they took;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each to congratulate his friends made haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_xv" id="vol4Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4CONTENTS" id="vol4CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class="TOC"><li><a href="#vol4HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL">HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN">The wild glen sae green,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_49">49</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SCOTIAS_THISTLE">Scotia's thistle,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS">The land of gallant hearts,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_51">51</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE">The yellow locks o' Charlie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN">We 'll meet yet again,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND">Our ain native land,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG">The Grecian war-song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_56">56</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4FLORAS_LAMENT">Flora's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_57">57</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL">When the glen all is still,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SCOTLAND_YET6">Scotland yet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE">The minstrel's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_60">60</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE">My own land and loved one,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD">The bower of the wild,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_62">62</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID">The crook and plaid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER">The minstrel's bower,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING">When the star of the morning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM">Though all fair was that bosom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE">Would that I were where wild-woods wave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_68">68</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND">O tell me what sound,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OUR_MARY7">Our Mary,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_70">70</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS">MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8">Sweet bard of Ettrick's Glen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4YOUNG_JAMIE9">Young Jamie, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE">Heard ye the bagpipe?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BRUCES_ADDRESS">Bruce's address,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_79">79</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION">Removed from vain fashion,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_80">80</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN">When shall we meet again?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_81">81</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_KING">JAMES KING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST">The lake is at rest,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW">Life 's like the dew,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_86">86</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ISOBEL_PAGAN">ISOBEL PAGAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_89">89</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_MITCHELL">JOHN MITCHELL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4BEAUTY">Beauty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4TO_THE_EVENING_STAR">To the evening star,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME">O waft me to the fairy clime,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID">The love-sick maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_93">93</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_JAMIESON">ALEXANDER JAMIESON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11">The maid who wove,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_96">96</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE">A sigh and a smile,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_97">97</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_GOLDIE">JOHN GOLDIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_98">98</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM">And can thy bosom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_100">100</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SWEETS_THE_DEW">Sweet 's the dew,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_101">101</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_POLLOK">ROBERT POLLOK,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_103">103</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_AFRICAN_MAID">The African maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_105">105</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4J_C_DENOVAN">J. C. DENOVAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE">Oh! Dermot, dear loved one,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_107">107</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_IMLAH">JOHN IMLAH,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4KATHLEEN">Kathleen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_109">109</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HIELAN_HEATHER">Hielan' heather,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND">Farewell to Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE">The rose of Seaton Vale,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4KATHERINE_AND_DONALD">Katherine and Donald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A">Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_GATHERING12">The gathering,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_115">115</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MARY">Mary,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS">Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_117">117</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_TWEEDIE">JOHN TWEEDIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_120">120</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE">Saw ye my Annie?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_121">121</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_ATKINSON">THOMAS ATKINSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MARY_SHEARER">Mary Shearer,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4WILLIAM_GARDINER">WILLIAM GARDINER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15">Oh! Scotland's hills for me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_127">127</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_HOGG">ROBERT HOGG,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG">Queen of fairy's song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES">When autumn comes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BONNIE_PEGGIE_O">Bonnie Peggie, O!</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_WISH_BURST">A wish burst,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18">I love the merry moonlight,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_135">135</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19">Oh, what are the chains of love made of?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_136">136</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_WRIGHT">JOHN WRIGHT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD">An autumnal cloud,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAIDEN_FAIR">The maiden fair,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN">The old blighted thorn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_WRECKED_MARINER">The wrecked mariner,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOSEPH_GRANT">JOSEPH GRANT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET">The blackbird's hymn is sweet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LOVES_ADIEU">Love's adieu,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_146">146</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4DUGALD_MOORE">DUGALD MOORE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4RISE_MY_LOVE">Rise, my love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4JULIA">Julia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LUCYS_GRAVE">Lucy's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_152">152</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE">The forgotten brave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_FIRST_SHIP">The first ship,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WEEP_NOT">Weep not,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4TO_THE_CLYDE">To the Clyde,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_156">156</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON">REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_158">158</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_ARABY_MAID">The Araby maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAIDENS_VOW">The maiden's vow,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_LOVE_THE_SEA">I love the sea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_162">162</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4GEORGE_ALLAN">GEORGE ALLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_163">163</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21">Is your war-pipe asleep?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET">I will think of thee yet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE">Lassie, dear lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22">When I look far down on the valley below me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23">I will wake my harp when the shades of even,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_170">170</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_BRYDSON">THOMAS BRYDSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT">All lovely and bright,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_173">173</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY">CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY">She died in beauty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS">The Scottish blue bells,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_MILLER">ROBERT MILLER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WHERE_ARE_THEY">Where are they?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS">Lay of the hopeless,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_180">180</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_HUME">ALEXANDER HUME,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_182">182</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE">My wee, wee wife,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4O_POVERTY">O, poverty!</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4NANNY">Nanny,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_188">188</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_BESSIE">My Bessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MENIE_HAY">Menie Hay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_190">190</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL">I 've wander'd on the sunny hill,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_192">192</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_YEARS_HAE_COME">Oh! years hae come,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_193">193</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME">My mountain hame,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_194">194</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_SMIBERT">THOMAS SMIBERT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT">The Scottish widow's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25">The hero of St. John D'Acre,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES">Oh! bonnie are the howes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA">Oh! say na you maun gang awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_201">201</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_BETHUNE">JOHN BETHUNE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WITHERD_FLOWERS">Withered flowers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_207">207</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4A_SPRING_SONG">A spring song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_208">208</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALLAN_STEWART">ALLAN STEWART,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SEA-BOY">The sea boy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MENIE_LORN">Menie Lorn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER">The young soldier,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_214">214</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LAND_I_LOVE">The land I love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_215">215</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_L_MALONE">ROBERT L. MALONE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND">The thistle of Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_217">217</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY">Hame is aye hamely,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_218">218</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4PETER_STILL">PETER STILL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4JEANIES_LAMENT">Jeanie's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME">Ye needna be courtin' at me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_222">222</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME">The bucket for me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_223">223</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ROBERT_NICOLL">ROBERT NICOLL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_225">225</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4ORDE_BRAES">Ordé Braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM">The Muir o' Gorse and Broom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_229">229</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS">The bonnie Hieland hills,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH">The bonnie rowan bush,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE">Bonnie Bessie Lee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_233">233</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING">ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS">The wild rose blooms,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_236">236</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28">ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE">The Wells o' Wearie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_LAING">ALEXANDER LAING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_241">241</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4AE_HAPPY_HOUR">Ae happy hour,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME">Lass gin ye wad lo'e me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4LASS_OF_LOGIE">Lass of Logie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_AIN_WIFE">My ain wife,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_246">246</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE">The maid o' Montrose,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN">Jean of Aberdeen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_HOPELESS_EXILE">The hopeless exile,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4GLEN-NA-HALBYN29">Glen-na-H'Albyn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ALEXANDER_CARLILE">ALEXANDER CARLILE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_252">252</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30">Wha 's at the window,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES">My brothers are the stately trees,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN">The Vale of Killean,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_255">255</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_NEVAY">JOHN NEVAY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER">The emigrant's love-letter,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_259">259</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4THOMAS_LYLE">THOMAS LYLE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_261">261</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4KELVIN_GROVE">Kelvin Grove,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_TRYSTING_HOUR">The trysting hour,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4HARVEST_SONG34">Harvest song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_266">266</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_HOME">JAMES HOME,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_267">267</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4MARY_STEEL">Mary Steel,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN">Oh, hast thou forgotten?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART">The maid of my heart,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT">Song of the emigrant,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35">This lassie o' mine,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_272">272</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JAMES_TELFER">JAMES TELFER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36">Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA">I maun gae over the sea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_275">275</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol4EVAN_MACLACHLAN">EVAN MACLACHLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_279">279</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4A_MELODY_OF_LOVE">A melody of love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_281">281</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN">The mavis of the clan,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_282">282</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4JOHN_BROWN">JOHN BROWN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_286">286</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY">The sisters of Dunolly,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4CHARLES_STEWART_DD">CHARLES STEWART, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL">Luineag—a love carol,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_290">290</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#vol4ANGUS_FLETCHER">ANGUS FLETCHER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#vol4THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL">The Clachan of Glendaruel,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol4THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN">The lassie of the glen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_294">294</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + +<li><a href="#vol4GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#vol4Page_295">295</a></span></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_1" id="vol4Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL" id="vol4HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL"></a>HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>burn</i> and <i>brae</i>, 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 +'<i>an out-bye herding</i>,' 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....<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_2" id="vol4Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +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 <i>bien</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_3" id="vol4Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>hirsel</i><a name="vol4FNanchor_1_1" id="vol4FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_4" id="vol4Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> 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 <i>hirsled</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_5" id="vol4Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> 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 <i>eery</i> feelings which are the offspring of superstitious +associations.</p> + +<p>"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_6" id="vol4Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the +Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_7" id="vol4Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> <i>out-bye herding</i>, 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 <i>hirsel</i> which my father +formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and +was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another <i>hirsel</i> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_8" id="vol4Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In numbers fearless all as unconfined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild as wailings of the desert wind.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'My early years were pass'd far on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills of Ettrick wild and lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through summer sheen and winter shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bold enthusiastic glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sung rude strains of minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which mingling with died o'er the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unheeded as the plover's wail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft where the waving rushes shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shelter frail around my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weening, though not through hopes of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fix on these more lasting claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd there secure in rustic scroll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wayward fancies of the soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even where yon lofty rocks arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_9" id="vol4Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The colder cone of drifted wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I noted them afar from ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till ink would freeze within the pen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deep the spell which bound the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the bard's undying art—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rapt the charm that still beguiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The minstrel of the mountains wild.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_10" id="vol4Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The swell and fall of these wild tones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were worth the pomp of a thousand thrones.'<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_11" id="vol4Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_12" id="vol4Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The feeling is nameless that makes us unglad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a strange, wild dismayment it brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet hath no match in the solemn and sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Desolation of men and of things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The hill-foxes howl'd round the wanderer's way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his aim and his pathway were lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And effort has then oft too much of dismay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pay well the toil it may cost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fate has its privilege, death has its power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is fearful where'er it may fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But worse it may seem 'mong the blasts of the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all that approaches portends to devour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor fixes till first it appal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'No mercy obtains in the tempests that rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the sky-frozen elements fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there comes no hand that is willing to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soothe, till the spirit be fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the storms round the thrones of the wilderness break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the frail in the solitude cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And howl in their strength and impatience to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their course to commix with the roar of the lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where it flings forth its foam on the blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Lo! 'neath where the heath hangs so dark o'er yon peak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another of Adam lay lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bield could not shelter the weary and weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the strife of the tempest o'erthrown.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_13" id="vol4Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No raven had fed, and the hill-fox had fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If there he had yet come abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stillness reign'd deep o'er his cold moorland bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which came down in the power of the sleep of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the spirit return'd to its God.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_14" id="vol4Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_15" id="vol4Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> 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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_16" id="vol4Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_17" id="vol4Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Discontented and uncheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this noise and learning weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half my mind, to madness driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woos the lore by nature given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong fair fields and flowing fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely glens and lofty mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charm'd with nature's wildest grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lately wont was I to wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wheresoever fancy led me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came no barrier to impede me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still from early morn till even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the light of earth and heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musing on whatever graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Livelier scenes or lonelier places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a nameless pleasure found me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living, like a dream, around me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, then, may I be contented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus confined and thus tormented!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Still, oh! still 'twere lovelier rather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be roaming through the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where flow'd the stream so glassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong its flowers and margins mossy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the flocks at noon their path on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to feed by birk and hawthorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or upon the mountain lofty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seated where the wind blew softly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my faithful friend beside me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my plaid from sun to hide me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the volume oped before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would trace the minstrel's story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mine own wild harp awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the deep green glens of braken,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_18" id="vol4Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Free and fearlessly revealing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the soul of native feeling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"''Stead of that eternal humming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the ear for ever coming—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humming of these thoughtless beings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their restless pranks and pleaings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sore-provoked preceptor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roaring, "Silence!"—O'er each quarter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence comes, as o'er the valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all rioted so gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sudden bursting thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overpowers with awe and wonder—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till again begins the fuss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Master, Jock's aye nippin' us!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could hear the fountains flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light hill-breeze was blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild-wing'd plover wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the brow of heaven sailing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleating flocks and skylarks singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echo still to echo ringing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds still, still so wont to waken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no note of them is taken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet which seem to lend assistance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the blessing of existence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Who shall trow thee wise or witty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lore of "the Eternal City,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or derive delight and pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the blood-stain'd deeds of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus bewildering his senses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong these cases, moods, and tenses?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the wrong-placed words arranging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever in their finals changing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out and in with hic and hockings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a loom for working stockings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Latin lords and Grecian heroes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye gods, in mercy spare us!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may mortals be contented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus confined and thus tormented!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"My teacher, the late Richard Scott, was an accurate<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_19" id="vol4Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_20" id="vol4Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> 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 <i>Clydesdale +Magazine</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>"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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_21" id="vol4Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>hirsels</i> 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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_2_2" id="vol4FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Though humble in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_22" id="vol4Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +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.'</p> + +<p>"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 <i>great unknowns</i> I think, +with the exception of Junius, are sooner or later destined to do.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_23" id="vol4Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_24" id="vol4Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_25" id="vol4Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> 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.'</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_26" id="vol4Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_27" id="vol4Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> 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 <i>meek and lowly</i>. 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.'</p> + +<p>"My last year's attendance at the College Philosophical Classes was at +St Andrews. I had a craving to acquaint<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_28" id="vol4Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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 ren<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_29" id="vol4Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>dered 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.</p> + +<p>"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;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_30" id="vol4Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_31" id="vol4Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> 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 <i>Noctes</i>, 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_32" id="vol4Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it.</p> + +<p>"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the +'Songs of the Ark,'<a name="vol4FNanchor_3_3" id="vol4FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write +rapidly: likely, too, they will write with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_33" id="vol4Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_34" id="vol4Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> which the poem commences, to become a blank of +desolate uniformity, as overwhelmed beneath a waste of waters.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_35" id="vol4Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> 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, fol<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_36" id="vol4Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>lowed 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.</p> + +<p>"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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_37" id="vol4Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'What boots this turmoil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of uproar and folly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That renders the smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of creation unholy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that which we love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is life's best assistant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought still must rove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the dear and the distant.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would, then, that I were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid nature's wild grandeur—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this folly afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I wont was to wander;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pale cloudlets fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the soft breezes driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mountains on high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kiss the azure of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where down the deep glen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rivulet is rolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And few, few of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the solitudes strolling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! bliss I could reap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When day was returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the wild-flowers asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong the dews of the morning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there were it joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the shades of the gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the night's lullaby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the world were coming—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_38" id="vol4Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To roam through the brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the paths long forsaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hill-harp retake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And its warblings awaken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart is in pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the mind is in sadness—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when comes, oh! when,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The return of its gladness?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest shall fade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the winter's returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the voice of the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be sorrow and mourning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's vigour shall fail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his locks shall grow hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where is the tale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his youth and his glory?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life is a dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fate darkly furl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I a hermit would seem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid the crowd of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let me be free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of these scenes that encumber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And enjoy what may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my days yet to number!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_39" id="vol4Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_40" id="vol4Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_41" id="vol4Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> 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 <i>acmé</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_42" id="vol4Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Oh, poortith cauld and restless love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye wreck my peace between ye.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_43" id="vol4Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_44" id="vol4Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'O who may love with warm true heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then from love refrain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who say 'tis fit we now should part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never meet again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The heart once broken bleeds no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a deep sound sleep it hath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the stir of pain ne'er travels o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The solitude of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The moon is set, and the star is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cure, though cruel, cures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the heart left lone must sorrow on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the tie of life endures.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'He had nor gold nor land, and trow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Himself unworthy all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sternly in his soul had vow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fond love to recall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For her he loved he would not wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since fate would ne'er agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And went to part with a sore, sore heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bower of the greenwood tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The dews were deep, and the leaves were green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the eve was soft and still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strife may reach the vale I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though no blasts be on the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The leaves were green, and the dews were deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the foot was light upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass and flowers, round the bower asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But parting there could be none.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_45" id="vol4Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'He spoke the word with a struggle hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fair one forward sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever wist, till like one too blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her arms were round him flung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For the fair one whom he'd woo'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the chill night breezes sigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could wot not why she loved him more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than ere she thus was tried.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'A red—not weak—came o'er her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she turn'd away anon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since nor he nor she could speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still parting there could be none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I could have lived alone for thee,'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said; 'So lived could I,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She answer'd, while it seem'd as she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had wish'd even then to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For pale, pale grew her cheek I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While his arms, around her thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left space no plea to come between,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So parting there could be none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'She cool'd his brow with the heart's own drop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the brain seem'd burning there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her whisper reach'd the realm of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the darkness of despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'She bade his soul be still and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the light of love to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothed it with the sympathy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which a woman's heart can give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And it seem'd more than all before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'er given to mortal man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiance came, and with it bore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The angel of the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For ever since Eve her love-bower would weave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the first of all her line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one on earth had had more of worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the lovely Lanazine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_46" id="vol4Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And if Fortune's frown would o'er him come down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less marvel it may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since he woo'd all while to make his own<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lovelier far than she.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'The Christian Politician'<a name="vol4FNanchor_4_4" id="vol4FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_47" id="vol4Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>"My latest publication is a volume of 'Poems and Songs,'<a name="vol4FNanchor_5_5" id="vol4FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_48" id="vol4Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_49" id="vol4Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN" id="vol4THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN"></a>THE WILD GLEN SAE GREEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posy, or Roslin Castle."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lying a' at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gloamin' spreads its mantle gray o'er the world's dewy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll take my plaid and hasten through yon woody dell unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meet my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll meet her by the trysting-tree, that's stannin' a' alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I hae carved her name upon yon little moss gray stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I will fauld her to my breast, and be mair bless'd I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a' that are aneath the sky, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her head reclined upon this heart, in simple bliss I'll share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure, pure kiss o' tender love that owns nae earthly care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spirits hovering o'er us shall bless the heartfelt scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I woo my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My fauldin' plaid shall shield her frae the gloamin's chilly gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star o' eve shall mark our joy, but shall not tell our tale—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_50" id="vol4Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Our simple tale o' tender love—that tauld sae oft has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may be sweet at morning hour, or at the noon o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet wi' those that we lo'e weel in grove or garden gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sweetest bliss o' mortal life is at the hour o' e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! I could wander earth a' o'er, nor care for aught o' bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I might share, at my return, a joy sae pure as this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I could spurn a' earthly wealth—a palace and a queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SCOTIAS_THISTLE" id="vol4SCOTIAS_THISTLE"></a>SCOTIA'S THISTLE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotia's thistle guards the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where repose her dauntless brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never yet the foot of slave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has trode the wilds of Scotia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from tyrant's dark control—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as waves of ocean roll—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as thoughts of minstrel's soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still roam the sons of Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotia's hills of hoary hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watering with its dearest dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heathy locks of Scotia.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_51" id="vol4Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Down each green-wood skirted vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guardian spirits, lingering, hail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a minstrel's melting tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As told of ancient Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the shades of eve invest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's dew-bespangled breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How supremely man is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the glens of Scotia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There no dark alarms convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught to chase life's charms away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they live, and live for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round the homes of Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wake, my hill harp! wildly wake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound by lee and lonely lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never shall this heart forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie wilds of Scotia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others o'er the ocean's foam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far to other lands may roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for ever be my home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the sky of Scotia!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS" id="vol4THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS"></a>THE LAND OF GALLANT HEARTS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ours is the land of gallant hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land of lovely forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The island of the mountain-harp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The torrents and the storms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land that blooms with freeman's tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And withers with the slave's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where far and deep the green woods spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wild the thistle waves.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_52" id="vol4Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere ever Ossian's lofty voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had told of Fingal's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere ever from their native clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman eagles came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our land had given heroes birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That durst the boldest brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught above tyrannic dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle tufts to wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What need we say how Wallace fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how his foemen fell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how on glorious Bannockburn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The work went wild and well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours is the land of gallant hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land of honour'd graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wreath of fame shall ne'er depart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While yet the thistle waves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE" id="vol4THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE"></a>THE YELLOW LOCKS O' CHARLIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' martial steps are bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud and lang, the wilds amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The war pipe's strains are sounding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sky and stream reflect the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of broadswords glancing rarely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guard till death the hills of heath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the foes o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let on high the banners fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hearts and hands rise prouder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wake amain the warlike strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still louder, and still louder;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_53" id="vol4Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Appin's mountains early,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yellow locks o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While banners wave aboon the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our foemen vainly gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swear to claim, by deeds o' fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hills and glens o' heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For seas shall swell to wild and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crown green Appin fairly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere hearts so steel'd to foemen yield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rights o' royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let the mountains hoary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Re-echo round the warlike sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That speaks of Highland glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For strains sublime, through future time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall tell the tale unsparely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Scotland's crown was placed aboon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yellow locks o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN" id="vol4WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN"></a>WE'LL MEET YET AGAIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sky shall be bright, and the bower shall be green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the visions of life shall be lovely before us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the sunshine of summer that sleeps o'er the scene.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_54" id="vol4Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The woodlands are sad when the green leaves are fading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sorrow is deep when the dearest must part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for each darker woe that our spirit is shading<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A joy yet more bright shall return to the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, when the pain, disconcerting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peace of our minds in a moment like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall melt into nought, like the tears of our parting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or live but in mem'ry to heighten our bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have loved in the hours when a hope scarce could find us;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We've loved when our hearts were the lightest of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the same tender tie that has bound still shall bind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the dark chain of fate shall have ceased to enthral.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, when the spirit of gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall breathe o'er the valley, and brighten its flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lone hearts of those who have long been in sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall gather delight from the transport of ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, thine are the charms, love, that never can perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thine is the star that my guide still shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alluring the hope in this soul that shall cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its life's dearest treasures, to share them with thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND" id="vol4OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND"></a>OUR AIN NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a charm in the words that we a' understand,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_55" id="vol4Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That flings o'er the bosom the power of a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes us love mair what we a' love so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart may have feelings it canna conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the mind has the thoughts that nae words can reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But alike he the feelings and thought can command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who names but the name o' our ain native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bleak be its mountains and rugged its strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves aye seem bless'd, dancing wild o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When woke by the winds from the hills o' the free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sky oft is dark, and our storms loud and cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where are the hearts that sic worth can unfauld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As those that unite, and uniting expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they hear but the name o' our ain native land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear of her famed ones let none e'er demand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the hours o' a' time far too little would prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To name but the names that we honour and love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bard lives in light, though his heart it be still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cairn of the warrior stands gray on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And songster and sage can alike still command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A garland of fame from our ain native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wild woods are glorious, her waterfalls grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her songs still proclaim, as they ring through the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charms of her maids and the worth of her men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her thistle shall cease in the breezes to wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the floweret to bloom on the patriot's grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere we cease to defend, with our heart and our hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freedom and faith of our ain native land.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_56" id="vol4Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG" id="vol4THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG"></a>THE GRECIAN WAR SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On! on to the fields, where of old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laurels of freedom were won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us think, as the banners of Greece we unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the brave in the pages of glory enroll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the deeds by our forefathers done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O yet, if there's aught that is dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let bravery's arm be its shield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let love of our country give power to each spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty's pale cheek dry its long-gather'd tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the light of the weapons we wield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake then to glory, that Greece yet may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land—the proud land of the famed and the free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rear! rear the proud trophies once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Persia's hosts were o'erthrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the song of our triumph arise on our shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the mountains give back the far sounds, as of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the fields where our foemen lie strewn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh ne'er shall our bold efforts cease<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the garlands of freedom shall wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In breezes, which, fraught with the tidings of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wander o'er all the fair islands of Greece,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cool not the lip of a slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake then to glory! that Greece yet may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land—the proud land of the famed and the free!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_57" id="vol4Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4FLORAS_LAMENT" id="vol4FLORAS_LAMENT"></a>FLORA'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dismantled of all the gay hues that they wore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lost is my hope since the Prince of the Highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong these, his wild mountains, can meet me no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! Charlie, how wrung was this heart when it found thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forlorn, and the die of thy destiny cast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy Flora was firm 'mid the perils around thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where were the brave of the land that had own'd thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That she—only she—should be true to the last?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The step's in the bark on the dark heaving waters,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now should have been on the floor of a throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, alas for auld Scotland, her sons and her daughters!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy wish was their welfare, thy cause was their own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'lorn may we sigh where the hill-winds awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weep in the glen where the cataracts foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep where the dew-drops are deep on the bracken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy foot has the land of thy fathers forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And more—never more will it yield thee a home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! yet when afar, in the land of the stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er on thy spirit remembrance may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her who was true in these moments of danger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reprove not the heart that still lives but for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night-shrouded flower from the dawning shall borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ray, all the glow of its charms to renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Charlie, ah! Charlie, no ray to thy Flora<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can dawn from thy coming to chase the dark sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which death, in thine absence, alone can subdue.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_58" id="vol4Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL" id="vol4WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL"></a>WHEN THE GLEN ALL IS STILL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Cold Frosty Morning."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the glen all is still, save the stream of the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the shepherd has ceased o'er the dark heath to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wail of the plover awakes on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inviting her mate to return to his home—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! meet me, Eliza, adown by the wild-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild daisies sleep 'mong the low-lying dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our bliss shall be sweet as the visions of childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pure as the fair star, in heaven's deep blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy locks shall be braided in drops of the gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fann'd by the far-travell'd breeze of the lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits of heaven shall know of thy coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And watch o'er our joy till the hour of the dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No woes shall we know of dark fortune's decreeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the past and the future my dreams may not be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the light of thine eye seems the home of my being,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my soul's fondest thoughts shall be gather'd to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SCOTLAND_YET6" id="vol4SCOTLAND_YET6"></a>SCOTLAND YET.<a name="vol4FNanchor_6_6" id="vol4FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gae, bring my guid auld harp ance mair,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gae, bring it free and fast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I maun sing another sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere a' my glee be past;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_59" id="vol4Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And trow ye as I sing, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The burden o't shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heath waves wild upon her hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foaming frae the fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fountains sing o' freedom still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they dance down the dells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weel I lo'e the land, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's girded by the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thistle wags upon the fields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Wallace bore his blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave her foemen's dearest bluid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dye her auld gray plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking to the lift, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sang this doughty glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where freedom's voice ne'er rang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gie me the hills where Ossian lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Coila's minstrel sang;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_60" id="vol4Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For I've nae skill o' lands, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ken nae to be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE" id="vol4THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE"></a>THE MINSTREL'S GRAVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sat in the vale, 'neath the hawthorns so hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gloom of my bosom seem'd deep as their shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For remembrance was fraught with the far-travell'd story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That told where the dust of the minstrel was laid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw not his harp on the wild boughs above me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard not its anthems the mountains among;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the flow'rets that bloom'd on his grave were more lovely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than others would seem to the earth that belong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sleep on," said my soul, "in the depths of thy slumber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleep on, gentle bard! till the shades pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the lips of the living the ages shall number<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That steal o'er thy heart in its couch of decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! thou wert beloved from the dawn of thy childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beloved till the last of thy suffering was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved now that o'er thee is waving the wild-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the worm only living where rapture hath been.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_61" id="vol4Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Till the footsteps of time are their travel forsaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No form shall descend, and no dawning shall come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To break the repose that thy ashes are taking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And call them to life from their chamber of gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sleep, gentle bard! for, though silent for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy harp in the hall of the chieftain is hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No time from the mem'ry of mankind shall sever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tales that it told, and the strains that it sung."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE" id="vol4OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE"></a>OUR OWN LAND AND LOVED ONE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Buccleuch Gathering."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the land that gave birth to the first breath we drew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such radiance but lives in the eye of the maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is dear to our heart—to our heart ever true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With her—yes, with her that this spirit has bless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath my dear native sky let my home only be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the valley of flowers, and the heath-covered waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall alike have a spell of enchantment for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let her eye pour its light o'er the joy of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mingle its beam with the gloom of my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each shadow of care from the soul shall depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save of care that on her it is bliss to bestow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My thought shall not travel to sun-lighted isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor my heart own a wish for the wealth they may claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But live and be bless'd in rewarding her smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the song of the harp that shall hallow her name.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_62" id="vol4Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The anthems of music delightful may roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or eloquence flow as the waves of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sounds that enchantment can shed o'er the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are—the lass that we love, and the land that is free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD" id="vol4THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD"></a>THE BOWER OF THE WILD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar from the din and the dwellings of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where still I might linger in many a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingle my strains wi' the voice o' the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the cave and the cliff, where the hill foxes roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the earn has his nest and the raven his home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I brought the young flower-buds ere yet they had smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught them to bloom round my bower of the wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the fair maidens came, from yon vale far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought my lone grotto still day after day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon were the stems of their fair blossoms shorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the flowers of the bard might their ringlets adorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full fair were they all, but the maiden most fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would still have no flower till I pull'd it with care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle, and simple, and modest, and mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stole my lone heart in the bower of the wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer is past, and the maidens are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this heart, like my grotto, is wither'd and lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, with the winter, I'll cease not to mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless, with the blossoms, these fair ones return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! had they ne'er come, or had ne'er gone away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sing in my sorrow still day after day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scene seems a desert—the charm is exiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woe to my blooms and my bower of the wild!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_63" id="vol4Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID" id="vol4THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID"></a>THE CROOK AND PLAID.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Ploughman."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he should own that tender love, that's only felt by few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he that has this bosom a' to fondest love betray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the faithfu' shepherd laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true to his lassie—he's aye true to his lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who wears the crook and plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At morn he climbs the mountains wild his fleecy flocks to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er him sweet the laverock sings, new sprung frae 'mang the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doggie frolics roun' and roun', and may not weel be stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae blithe it is the laddie wi' that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At noon he leans him down upon the high and heathy fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And views his flocks, beneath him a', fair feeding in the dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there he sings the sangs o' love, the sweetest ever made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! how happy is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_64" id="vol4Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He pu's the bells o' heather red, and the lily-flowers sae meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca's the lily like my bosom, and the heath-bell like my cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His words are sweet and tender, as the dews frae heaven shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weel I love to list the lad who wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the dews begin to fauld the flowers, and the gloamin' shades draw on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the star comes stealing through the sky, and the kye are on the loan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He whistles through the glen sae sweet, the heart is lighter made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ken the laddie hameward hies who wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath the spreading hawthorn gray, that's growing in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He meets me in the gloamin' aye, when nane on earth can ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo and vow, and there I trow, whatever may be said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He kens aye unco weel the way to row me in his plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youth o' mony riches may to his fair one ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woo across the table cauld his madam-titled bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll gang to the hawthorn gray, where cheek to cheek is laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! nae wooers like the laddie that rows me in his plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_65" id="vol4Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To own the truth o' tender love what heart wad no comply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since love gives purer happiness than aught aneath the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love be in the bosom, then the heart is ne'er afraid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through life I'll love the laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER" id="vol4THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER"></a>THE MINSTREL'S BOWER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie Mary Hay."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! if thou'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave the wilds amang a bonnie bower for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave a bonnie bower o' the birks and willows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my heart thou'lt be what nae other e'er has been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the dew is on the flower, and the starlight on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bonnie green-wood bower I'll wake my harp to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll wake my hill-harp's strain, and the echoes o' the dell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall restore the tales again that its notes o' love shall tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! thou art fair as the morning's early beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the image of a flower reflected frae the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's kindness in thy heart, and there's language in thine e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! its looks impart nae sweet tale o' love to me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_66" id="vol4Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! wert thou mine I wad love thee wi' such love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the lips can ne'er define, and the cold can never prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bower by yonder stream our happy home should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our life a blissful dream, while I lived alone for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I am far away my thoughts on thee shall rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allured, as by a ray, frae the dwellings o' the blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beneath the clouds o' dew, where'er my path may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! a maiden fair as thou, I again shall never see!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING" id="vol4WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING"></a>WHEN THE STAR OF THE MORNING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the star of the morning is set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the heavens are beauteous and blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bells of the heather are wet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the drops of the deep-lying dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong the flocks on the mountains that lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas blithesome and blissful to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When these all my thoughts would employ;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now I must think upon thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When noontide displays all its powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flocks to the valley return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lie and to feed 'mong the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bloom on the banks of the burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet, sweet it was to recline<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath the shade of yon hoar hawthorn-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think on the charge that was mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now I must think upon thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_67" id="vol4Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Gloaming stole down from the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her fingers of shadowy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dews of the eve in her locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To spread down a couch for the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas sweet through yon green birks to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That border the brook and the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, 'tis a wearisome way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless it were travell'd with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All lovely and pure as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And generous of thought and of will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh Mary! speak thou to this heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bid its wild beating be still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd give all the ewes in the fold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd give all the lambs on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By night or by day to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One look of true kindness from thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM" id="vol4THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM"></a>THOUGH ALL FAIR WAS THAT BOSOM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though all fair was that bosom, heaving white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While hung this fond spirit o'er thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though that eye, with beauty's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still bedimm'd every eye before thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! charms there were still more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When woke that melting voice of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charms that caught this soul of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And taught it to adore thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then died the woes of the heart away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the thoughts of joys departed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my soul seem'd but to live in thy lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While it told of the faithful-hearted.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_68" id="vol4Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Methought how sweet it were to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far in some wild green glen with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all of life and of longing free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save what pure love imparted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! I could stray where the drops of dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never fell on the desert round me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dwell where the fair flowers never grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If the hymns of thy voice still found me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smile itself could the soul invest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all that here makes mortals bless'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While every thought thy lips express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In deeper love still bound me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE" id="vol4WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE"></a>WOULD THAT I WERE WHERE WILD WOODS WAVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would that I were where wild woods wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aboon the beds where sleep the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the streams o' Scotia lave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her hills and glens o' grandeur!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where freedom reigns, and friendship dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as the sun upon the fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When autumn brings the heather-bells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all their native splendour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistle wi' the hawthorn joins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birks mix wi' the mountain pines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heart with dauntless heart combines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever to defend her.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_69" id="vol4Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There roam the kind, and live the leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lofty ha' and lowly shiel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she for whom the heart must feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kindness still mair tender.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair, where the light hill breezes blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-flowers bloom by glen and shaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is fairer than them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherever she may wander.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, far or near, by wild or wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll love the generous, wise, and good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she shall share the dearest mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Heaven to life may render.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What boots it then thus on to stir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still from love's enjoyment err,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I to Scotland and to her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must all this heart surrender.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND" id="vol4OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND"></a>OH! TELL ME WHAT SOUND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Paddy's Resource."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound that can most o'er our being prevail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the sweet melting voice of the maid we love dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When chanting the songs of her own native vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More thrilling is this than the tone of the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awakening the wind-harp's wild wandering lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More sweet than the songster that sings in the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the strains of the rest of the warblers are o'er.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_70" id="vol4Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what light, of the earth or the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can the deepest delight to the spirit impart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the bright beaming radiance that lives in the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the maid that affection has bound to the heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More charming is this than the glory of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More lovely than rays from yon heavens above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It heightens each joy, as it soothes every smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enchanting our souls with the magic of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what drop is most melting and meek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That aught 'neath the azure of heaven can share?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the tear-drop that falls o'er the dear maiden's cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she breathes o'er her lover her sigh and her prayer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More tender is this—more celestial and fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the dew-drop that springs from the chamber of morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A balm that still softens the ranklings of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heals every wound that the bosom hath borne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OUR_MARY7" id="vol4OUR_MARY7"></a>OUR MARY.<a name="vol4FNanchor_7_7" id="vol4FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Mary liket weel to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where clear the burn was rowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trouth she was, though I say sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fair as ought ere made o' clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And pure as ony gowan.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_71" id="vol4Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And happy, too, as ony lark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clud might ever carry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shunn'd the ill, and sought the good,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en mair than weel was understood;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a' fouk liket Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But she fell sick wi' some decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she was but eleven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she pined frae day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We grudged to see her gaun away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though she was gaun to Heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's fears for them that's far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fykes for them are flitting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fears and cares, baith grit and sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We, by and by, o'er-pit them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But death there's nae o'er-pitting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And nature's bands are hard to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thus they maun be broken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en the form we loved to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We canna lang, dear though it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Preserve it as a token.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Mary had a gentle heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven did as gently free her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet lang afore she reach'd that part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear sir, it wad hae made ye start<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Had ye been there to see her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae changed, and yet sae sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And growing meek and meeker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' her lang locks o' yellow hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She wore a little angel's air,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere angels cam to seek her.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_72" id="vol4Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when she couldna stray out by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wee wild-flowers to gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She oft her household plays wad try,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hide her illness frae our eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lest she should grieve us farther.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ilka thing we said or did,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye pleased the sweet wee creature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed ye wad hae thought she had<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A something in her made her glad<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ayont the course o' nature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though disease, beyont remeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was in her frame indented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet aye the mair as she grew ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She grew and grew the lovelier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And mair and mair contented.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But death's cauld hour cam' on at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it to a' is comin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may it be, whene'er it fa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae waur to others than it was<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To Mary, sweet wee woman!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_73" id="vol4Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS" id="vol4MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS"></a>MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_74" id="vol4Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_75" id="vol4Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8" id="vol4SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8"></a>SWEET BARD OF ETTRICK'S GLEN.<a name="vol4FNanchor_8_8" id="vol4FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Banks of the Devon."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where art thou wandering?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miss'd is thy foot on the mountain and lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why round yon craggy rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wander thy heedless flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lambies are list'ning and bleating for thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold as the mountain stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale as the moonlight beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still is thy bosom, and closed is thine e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild may the tempest's wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweep o'er thy lonely grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art deaf to the storm—it is harmless to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Like a meteor's brief light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the breath of the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy life's dream hath pass'd as a shadow gone by;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till thy soft numbers stealing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mem'ry's warm feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each line is embalm'd with a tear or a sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet was thy melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rich as the rose's dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding its odours o'er sorrow or glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love laugh'd on golden wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleasure's hand touch'd the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All taught the strain to sing, Shepherd, by thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_76" id="vol4Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cold on Benlomond's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flickers the drifted snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down its sides the wild cataracts foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winter's mad winds may sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fierce o'er each glen and steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rest is unbroken, and peaceful thy home.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when on dewy wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes the sweet bird of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting its notes on the bush or the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bird of the Wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Low in the waving grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall, cow'ring, sing sadly its farewell to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4YOUNG_JAMIE9" id="vol4YOUNG_JAMIE9"></a>YOUNG JAMIE.<a name="vol4FNanchor_9_9" id="vol4FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Drummond Castle."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_77" id="vol4Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE" id="vol4CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE"></a>CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Tullymet."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bonnets blue and white cockades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put on their shields, unsheathe their blades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And conquest fell begin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the word be Scotland's heir:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when their swords can do nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let Hieland lasses spin, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Draw yer dirk and rin.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_78" id="vol4Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Ruthven light and trim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid Cressingham upon his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garr'd Edward gather up his pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ply his spurs and rin, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE" id="vol4HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE"></a>HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the broadswords, the shields and the tartan hose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kenn'd ye the nobles that revell'd sae rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_79" id="vol4Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillows his head on the heather sae barely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne down by lawless might—gallant Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4BRUCES_ADDRESS" id="vol4BRUCES_ADDRESS"></a>BRUCE'S ADDRESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tyrant's proud banners insultingly wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the slogan of battle from beauty's fond arms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roused the war-crested chieftain, his country to save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunbeam that rose on our mountain-clad warriors,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And reflected their shields in the green rippling wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its course saw the slain on the fields of their fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shed its last ray on their cold bloody graves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er those green beds of honour our war-song prepare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the red sword of vengeance triumphantly wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the ghosts of the slain cry aloud—Do not spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lead to victory and freedom, or die with the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the high soul of freedom no tyrant can fetter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the unshackled billows our proud shores that lave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though oppressed, he will watch o'er the home of his fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest his wan cheek on the tomb of the brave.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_80" id="vol4Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To arms, then! to arms! Let the battle-cry rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the raven's hoarse croak, through their ranks let it sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set their knell on the wing of each arrow that flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the shouts of the free shake the mountains around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the cold-blooded, faint-hearted changeling now tremble,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the war-shock shall reach to his dark-centered cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the laurels that twine round the brows of the victors<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall with rev'rence be strew'd o'er the tombs of the brave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION" id="vol4REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION"></a>REMOVED FROM VAIN FASHION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Removed from vain fashion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From title's proud ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a straw-cover'd cottage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep hid in yon glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There dwells a sweet flow'ret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure, lovely, and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rear'd, like the snowdrop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Midst hardships' chill air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No soft voice of kindred,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or parent she knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the desert she blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the sweet mountain rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the little stray'd lammie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bleats on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's soft, kind, and gentle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dear, dear to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_81" id="vol4Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the rich dews of fortune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er water'd this stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor one fostering sunbeam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Matured the rich gem—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! give me that pure bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lot let me share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll laugh at distinction,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smile away care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN" id="vol4WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN"></a>WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When shall we meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meet ne'er to sever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall Peace wreath her chain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round us for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall our hearts repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe from each breath that blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this dark world of woes?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never! oh, never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fate's unrelenting hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long may divide us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in one holy land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One God shall guide us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, on that happy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care ne'er shall reach us more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's vain delusions o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Angels beside us.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_82" id="vol4Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, where no storms can chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">False friends deceive us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, with protracted thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope cannot grieve us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There with the pure in heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from fate's venom'd dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall we meet to part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never! oh, never!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_83" id="vol4Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JAMES_KING" id="vol4JAMES_KING"></a>JAMES KING.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_84" id="vol4Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_85" id="vol4Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST" id="vol4THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST"></a>THE LAKE IS AT REST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lake is at rest, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun's on its breast, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright is its water, how pleasant to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its verdant banks shewing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The richest flowers blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A picture of bliss and an emblem of thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then, O fairest maiden!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When earth is array'd in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauties of heaven o'er mountain and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me still delight in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glories that brighten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But, Anna, why redden?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not, fair maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The traitor, the demon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That could deceive woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul's all unfit for the glories of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Believe me then, fairest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me thou art dearest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With flower blooming mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crystalline fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_86" id="vol4Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW" id="vol4LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW"></a>LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Scott's Boat Song."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At length from the hill I heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Plaintively wild, a bard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Remember what Morard says,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morard of many days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad is the song that the bugle-horns sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though lovely the standard it waves o'er the mangled slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widows' sighs stretching its broad gilded wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hard are the laws that bind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor foolish man and blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cheeks with health's roses spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till time clothes with snow thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wouldst thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocence leads to the summit of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tyrant, whose hands are red,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembles alone in bed;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_87" id="vol4Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No horror fiends haunt his rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope fills his placid breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ceased the soft voice, for gray mist was descending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still from the hoary bard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Methought the sweet song I heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft as I pass along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chimes in mine ear his song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_88" id="vol4Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ISOBEL_PAGAN" id="vol4ISOBEL_PAGAN"></a>ISOBEL PAGAN.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_89" id="vol4Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10" id="vol4CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10"></a>CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.<a name="vol4FNanchor_10_10" id="vol4FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca' them where the heather grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca' them where the burnie rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I gaed down the water-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I met my shepherd lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' he ca'd me his dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Will ye gang down the water-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the waves sae sweetly glide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the hazels spreading wide?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moon it shines fu' clearly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauf-leather shoon to thy white feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye shall be my dearie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye may row me in your plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I shall be your dearie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While water wimples to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While day blinks in the lift sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye shall be my dearie."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_90" id="vol4Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_MITCHELL" id="vol4JOHN_MITCHELL"></a>JOHN MITCHELL.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Moral and Literary +Observer</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_91" id="vol4Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4BEAUTY" id="vol4BEAUTY"></a>BEAUTY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wakes the Poet's lyre?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What kindles his poetic fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes him seek, at evening's hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely glen, the leafy bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When dew hangs on each little flower?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! it is Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What melts the soldier's soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can his love of fame control?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oft, amid the battle's rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lovely vision will engage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such power has Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What tames the savage mood?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gives a polish to the rude?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gives the peasant's lowly state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A charm which wealth cannot create,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the good alone will wait?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis faithful Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let our favourite toast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not king and peasant's boast?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, Beauty;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_92" id="vol4Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then let us guard with tender care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle, th' inspiring fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love will a diviner air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Impart to Beauty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4TO_THE_EVENING_STAR" id="vol4TO_THE_EVENING_STAR"></a>TO THE EVENING STAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Star of descending Night!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lovely and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Robed in thy mellow light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Subtle and rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence are thy silvery beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That o'er lone ocean gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in our crystal streams<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dip their bright hair?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Far in yon liquid sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where streamers play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the red lightnings fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hold'st thou thy way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds may envelop thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winds rave o'er land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er them thy march is free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As thine own ray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME" id="vol4OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME"></a>OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! waft me to the fairy clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Fancy loves to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Hope is ever in her prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Friendship has a home;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_93" id="vol4Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There will I wander by the streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Song and Dance combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my rosy waking dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ecstatic joys to twine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Music's swell my thoughts will soar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above created things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And revel on the boundless shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of rapt imaginings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fancy will explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek, far from the haunts of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Poet's mystic lore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love will add gladness to the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And strew my path with flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Joy with Innocence will lean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid my rosy bowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then waft me to the fairy clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Fancy loves to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Hope is ever in her prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Friendship has a home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID" id="vol4THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID"></a>THE LOVE-SICK MAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can the doctor cure her woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she will not let him know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why the tears incessant flow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the love-sick maid?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_94" id="vol4Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flaunting day, the flaunting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she sits and pines alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will comfort take from none;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, the very colour's gone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the love-sick maid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The secret 's out, the secret 's out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she finds at e'ening's hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a rosy woodland bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charms worth a prince's dower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To a love-sick maid.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_95" id="vol4Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALEXANDER_JAMIESON" id="vol4ALEXANDER_JAMIESON"></a>ALEXANDER JAMIESON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Stirling +Journal</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_96" id="vol4Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11" id="vol4THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11"></a>THE MAID WHO WOVE.<a name="vol4FNanchor_11_11" id="vol4FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><i>"Russian Air."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maid who wove the rosy wreath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every flower—hath wrought a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though her chaplets fragrance breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And balmy sweets—I know full well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath every bud, or blossom gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lurks a chain—Love's tyranny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though round her ruby lips, enshrin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits stillness, soft as evening skies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though crimson'd cheek you seldom find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or glances from her downcast eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lurks, unseen, a world of charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ne'er betray young Love's alarms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O trust not to her silent tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her settled calm, or absent smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dream that nymph, so fair and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May not enchain in Love's soft guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For where Love is—or what's Love's spell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mortal knows—no tongue can tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_97" id="vol4Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE" id="vol4A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE"></a>A SIGH AND A SMILE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Welsh Air</span>—<i>"Sir William Watkin Wynne."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Beauty's soft lip, like the balm of its roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or breath of the morning, a sigh took its flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor far had it stray'd forth, when Pity proposes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanderer should lodge in this bosom a night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But scarce had the guest, in that peaceful seclusion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lodging secured, when a conflict arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each feeling was changed, every thought was delusion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor longer my breast knew the calm of repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They say that young Love is a rosy-cheek'd bowyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At random the shafts from his silken string fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But surely the urchin of peace is destroyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose arrows are dipp'd in the balm of a sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O yes! for he whisper'd, "To Beauty's shrine hie thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There worship to Cupid, and wait yet awhile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cure she can give, with the balm can supply thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wound from a sigh can be cured by a smile."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_98" id="vol4Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_GOLDIE" id="vol4JOHN_GOLDIE"></a>JOHN GOLDIE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Ayr Courier</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>Deprived of the editorship of the <i>Courier</i>, in consequence of a change +in the proprietary, Goldie proceeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_99" id="vol4Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> 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 <i>The +London Scotsman</i>, 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 <i>Paisley Advertiser</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_100" id="vol4Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM" id="vol4AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM"></a>AND CAN THY BOSOM?</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Loudon's Bonnie Woods and Braes."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And can thy bosom bear the thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To part frae love and me, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all those plighted vows forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canst thou forget the midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in yon love-inspiring bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You vow'd by every heavenly power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Win my heart and then deceive me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that heart will break, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin' ye part wi' me, laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aft praised my sparkling e'e, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But love and live wi' me, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon those cheeks will lose their red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes in endless sleep be hid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'neath the turf the heart be laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That beats for love and thee, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Win my heart and then deceive me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that heart will break, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye part frae me, laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where rarer beauties shine, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! the heart can never bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A love sae true as mine, laddie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_101" id="vol4Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But when that heart is laid at rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heart that lo'ed ye last and best—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then the pangs that rend thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will sharper be than mine, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken vows will vex and grieve me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a broken heart relieve me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet its latest thought, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will be love an' thine, laddie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SWEETS_THE_DEW" id="vol4SWEETS_THE_DEW"></a>SWEET'S THE DEW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lily fair to see, Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there's ne'er a flower that blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is half so fair as thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The opening rose its beauties tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lips the rubies far outshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love sparkles in thine e'e, Annie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snaw that decks yon mountain top<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae purer is than thee, Annie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haughty mien and pridefu' look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy sweet angelic face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant beams each modest grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A form sae bright as thine, Annie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_102" id="vol4Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha could behold thy rosy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart could view thy smiling looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And plot to do thee wrang, Annie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, my soul, wi' thee I'll leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never, till I cease to breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll cease to think on thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_103" id="vol4Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ROBERT_POLLOK" id="vol4ROBERT_POLLOK"></a>ROBERT POLLOK.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_104" id="vol4Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_105" id="vol4Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_AFRICAN_MAID" id="vol4THE_AFRICAN_MAID"></a>THE AFRICAN MAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! well might she gaze—in the ship's hollow side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moan'd her Zoopah in chains—in the chains of a slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Great Spirit! why slumber'd the wrath of thy clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the savage white men dragg'd my Zoopah away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why linger'd the panther far back in his woods?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah cruel white monsters! plague poison their breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sleep never visit the place of their bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On their children and wives, on their life and their death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abide still the curse of an African maid!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_106" id="vol4Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4J_C_DENOVAN" id="vol4J_C_DENOVAN"></a>J. C. DENOVAN.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_107" id="vol4Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE" id="vol4OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE"></a>OH DERMOT, DEAR LOVED ONE!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast left me, dear Dermot! to cross the wide seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy Norah lives grieving in sadness forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She laments and looks back on the past happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy presence had left her no object to mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Those days that are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too joyous to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pang leaves behind them, 'tis Heaven's decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No joy now is mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sadness I pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Dermot, dear Dermot, returns back to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Dermot, dear Dermot! why, why didst thou leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl who holds thee so dear in her heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! couldst thou hold a thought that would cause her to grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or think for one moment from Norah to part?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Couldst thou reconcile<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To leave this dear isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a far unknown country, where dangers there be?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh! for thy dear sake<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This poor heart will break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou, dear beloved one, return not to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In silence I 'll weep till my Dermot doth come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone will I wander by moon, noon, and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still praying of Heaven to send him safe home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her who 'll embrace him with joy and delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then come, like a dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy faithful love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart will entwine thee, fond, joyous, and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From danger's alarms<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Speed to her open arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Dermot, dear loved one! return back to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_108" id="vol4Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_IMLAH" id="vol4JOHN_IMLAH"></a>JOHN IMLAH.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>. +On the 9th January 1846, his death took place at Jamaica, whither he had +gone on a visit to one of his brothers.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_109" id="vol4Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4KATHLEEN" id="vol4KATHLEEN"></a>KATHLEEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Humours of Glen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O distant but dear is that sweet island, wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hopes with my Kathleen and kindred abide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far though I wander from thee, emerald Erin!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No space can the links of my love-chain divide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairest spot of the earth! brightest gem of the ocean!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How oft have I waken'd my wild harp in thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, with eye of expression, and heart of emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Listen'd, Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bloom of the moss-rose, the blush of the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soft cheek of Kathleen discloses their dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ruby can rival the lip of mavourneen?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sight-dazzling diamond can equal her eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her silken hair vies with the sunbeam in brightness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And white is her brow as the surf of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_110" id="vol4Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4HIELAN_HEATHER" id="vol4HIELAN_HEATHER"></a>HIELAN' HEATHER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to me, an' aye shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moss-muir black an' mountain blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young lads and lasses trip thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The native Norlan rant and reel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the halesome Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The purple bells o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_111" id="vol4Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fancy fondly travels thither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae countrie charms, nae customs change<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My feelings frae the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey, for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND" id="vol4FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND"></a>FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Kinloch."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loved land of my kindred, farewell—and for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fated with each fond endearment to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dearest regard and the deepest regret.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your peaks are the king-eagle's thrones—where have rested<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The snow-falls of ages—eternally white.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! never again shall the falls of your fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wild murmur'd music awake on mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the lake's lustre, that mirrors your mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll pore on with pleasure—deep, lonely, yet dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet—yet Caledonia! when slumber comes o'er me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! oft will I dream of thee, far, far, away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vain are the visions that rapture restore me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waken and weep at the dawn of the day.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_112" id="vol4Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ere gone the last glimpse, faint and far o'er the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where yet my heart dwells—where it ever shall dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While tongue, sigh and tear, speak my spirit's emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country—my kindred—farewell, oh farewell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE" id="vol4THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE"></a>THE ROSE OF SEATON VALE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bonnie Rose bloom'd wild and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sweet a bud I trow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever breathed the morning air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or drank the evening dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Zephyr loved the blushing flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sigh and fond love tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It woo'd within its briery bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With wakening kiss the Zephyr press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This bud at morning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At noon it fann'd its glowing breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nestled there at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But other flowers sprung up thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lured the roving gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Zephyr left to droop and die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A matchless maiden dwelt by Don,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loved by as fair a youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long had their young hearts throbb'd as one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' tenderness and truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy warmest tear, soft Pity, pour—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Ellen's type and tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are in that sweet, ill-fated flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_113" id="vol4Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4KATHERINE_AND_DONALD" id="vol4KATHERINE_AND_DONALD"></a>KATHERINE AND DONALD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Donald dearer loved than life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The proud Dunallan's daughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, barr'd by feudal hate and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain he loved and sought her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loved the Lord of Garry's glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chieftain of Clanronald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand plaided Highlandmen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clasp'd the claymore for Donald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Scotland rush'd the Danish hordes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan met his foemen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath him bared ten thousand swords<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of vassal, serf, and yeomen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fray was fierce—and at its height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was seen a visor'd stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With red lance foremost in the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unfearing Dane and danger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be praised—brave knight! thy steel hath striven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sharpest in the slaughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crave what thou wilt of me—though even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fair—my darling daughter!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lifts the visor from his face—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chieftain of Clanronald!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And foes enclasp in friends' embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan and young Donald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feast-cup glads Glengarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joy that should for ever be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When mutual lovers marry.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_114" id="vol4Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The shout and shell the revellers raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan and Clanronald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And minstrel measures pour to praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A" id="vol4GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A"></a>GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since it is sae that I maun gang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang again as wearie lang.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I sae sune sou'd haste awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But since it's sae that I maun gae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This night I ween we've had the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gar auld Time tak' to his feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes us a' fu' laith to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But aye mair fain again to meet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dree the winter's drift and weet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sic a night is nocht ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hours the sweetest o' the sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In younker revels fidgin' fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like daffin hizzies, young again!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've deftly danced the time awa':<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We met in mirth—we part wi' pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_115" id="vol4Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My nimble gray neighs at the yett,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've clapt the spur upon my buit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The guid braid bonnet on my brow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then night is wearing late I trow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hame lies mony a mile awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mair's my need to mount and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_GATHERING12" id="vol4THE_GATHERING12"></a>THE GATHERING.<a name="vol4FNanchor_12_12" id="vol4FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Belt on your broad claymores—fight for Prince Charlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Down from the mountain steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up from the valley deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out from the clachan, the bothie, and shieling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bugle and battle-drum<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bid chief and vassal come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men of the mountains—descendants of heroes!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, shall the Southern—the Sassenach fear us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too long on the trophied walls<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of your ancestral halls,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_116" id="vol4Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Seize then, ye mountain Macs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Buckler and battle-axe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Follow your leader—the rightful—the royal!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Chief of Clanronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Donald Macdonald!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rouse every kilted clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rouse every loyal man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MARY" id="vol4MARY"></a>MARY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Dawtie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There lives a young lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far down yon lang glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I lo'e that lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nae ane can ken!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! a saint's faith may vary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But faithfu' I'll be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Mary lo'es me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Red, red as the rowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her smiling wee mou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' white as the gowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her breast and her brow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_117" id="vol4Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the foot o' a fairy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She links o'er the lea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Mary lo'es me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where yon tall forest timmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' lowly broom bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sunshine o' simmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread verdure an' flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, when night clouds the cary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside her I'll be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Mary lo'es me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3><a name="vol4OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS" id="vol4OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS"></a>OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.<a name="vol4FNanchor_13_13" id="vol4FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_118" id="vol4Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Border Nith, and Highland Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer far to me than they<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The braes o' Bennachie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_119" id="vol4Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When blade and blossoms sprout in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the burdies wag the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They blithely bob, and soar, and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When simmer cleeds the varied scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain would be where aft I've been<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er icy burn and sheeted hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ingle neuk is gleesome still<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though few to welcome me remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a' I loved be dead and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll back, though I should live alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_120" id="vol4Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_TWEEDIE" id="vol4JOHN_TWEEDIE"></a>JOHN TWEEDIE.</h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_14_14" id="vol4FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_121" id="vol4Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE" id="vol4SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE"></a>SAW YE MY ANNIE?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wading 'mang the dew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Annie walks as light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shadow in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or downy cloudlet light<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Alang the fields o' blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That we may ken her be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's fair as nature's flush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe as dawning's blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle as the hush<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When e'ening faulds her e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bounding o'er the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lammies play before her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birdies whistle o'er her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mysell adore her,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In heavenly ecstasy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Speed, speed, like winged day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Annie's rosy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiled fair as morning's streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We felt, but couldna speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Neath love's enraptured sway.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_122" id="vol4Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4THOMAS_ATKINSON" id="vol4THOMAS_ATKINSON"></a>THOMAS ATKINSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>melange</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_123" id="vol4Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I could not, as I gazed my last—there was on me a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all its simple agony—breathe that lone word—"Farewell,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hath no hope that clings to it, the closer as it dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In song alone 'twould pass the lips that loved the dear disguise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I go across a bluer wave than now girds round my bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As forth the dove went trembling—but to my Father's ark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I return? I may not ask my doubting heart, but yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hope and wish in one—how hard the lesson to forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But drooping head and feeble limbs—and, oh! a beating heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remind the vow'd to sing no more of all his weary part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, with a voice that trembles as the sounds unloose the spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this, his last and rudest lay, he now can breathe—"Farewell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_124" id="vol4Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MARY_SHEARER" id="vol4MARY_SHEARER"></a>MARY SHEARER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's aff and awa', like the lang summer-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But lang for blithe Mary fu' mony may weary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For mair hearts than mine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But nane mair will pine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">For the sweet Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She cam' wi' the spring, just like ane o' its flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the blue-bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their sweet breath is fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Her kind looks still endear her;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For the heart maun be dead<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That forgets Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! he maun be bless'd<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wha's allow'd to be near her;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For the fairest and best<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O' her kind 's Mary Shearer!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_125" id="vol4Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But farewell Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country and kin,—since I 've sae lov'd the stranger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare she 's been maun be either a pine or a heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Though I try to forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">In my heart still I 'll wear her,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">For mine may be yet—<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Name and a'—Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_126" id="vol4Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4WILLIAM_GARDINER" id="vol4WILLIAM_GARDINER"></a>WILLIAM GARDINER.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Fife Herald</i> newspaper, with a humorous preface by Vedder, and +was afterwards copied into the <i>Edinburgh Literary Gazette</i>. It has +since found a place in many of the collections of Scottish song, and has +three different times been set to music.</p> + +<p>Gardiner was unfortunate as a bookseller, and ultimately obtained +employment in the publishing office of the <i>Fife Herald</i>. 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_127" id="vol4Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15" id="vol4O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15"></a>O SCOTLAND'S HILLS FOR ME!<a name="vol4FNanchor_15_15" id="vol4FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O these are not my country's hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though they seem bright and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though flow'rets deck their verdant sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heather blooms not there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me behold the mountain steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wild deer roaming free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heathy glen, the ravine deep—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rose, through all this garden-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May shed its rich perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I would rather wander 'mong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country's bonnie broom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sings the shepherd on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ploughman on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lives my blithesome mountain maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The throstle and the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May warble sweeter strains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thrills at lovely gloaming hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Scotland's daisied plains;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_128" id="vol4Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the merle's mellow note,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The linnet's liquid lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laverocks on the roseate cloud—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I would rather roam beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy scowling winter skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than listlessly attune my lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sun-bright flowers arise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The baron's hall, the peasant's cot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Protect alike the free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyrant dies who breathes thine air;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_129" id="vol4Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ROBERT_HOGG" id="vol4ROBERT_HOGG"></a>ROBERT HOGG.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Quarterly Review</i>, 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,<a name="vol4FNanchor_16_16" id="vol4FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> this must have been no relief from his ordinary +toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_130" id="vol4Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When <i>Chambers's +Edinburgh Journal</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_17_17" id="vol4FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_131" id="vol4Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG" id="vol4QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG"></a>QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the holme so green, over the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the corrie, and down by the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come at the dead of night when all is still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come over mountain steep, come over brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by the braken howe far down the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by the river side; where'er ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_132" id="vol4Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES" id="vol4WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES"></a>WHEN AUTUMN COMES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When autumn comes an' heather bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' corn that waves on lowland dales<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is yellow ripe appearing;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie will ye gang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shear wi' me the hale day lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' love will mak' us eithly bang<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The weary toil o' shearing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' if the lasses should envy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or say we love, then you an' I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will pass ilk ither slyly by,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As if we werena caring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But aye I wi' my heuk will whang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistles, if in prickles strang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When we gang to the shearing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' aye we'll haud our rig afore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ply to hae the shearing o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne you will soon forget you bore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Your neighbours' jibes and jeering.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For then, my lassie, we'll be wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we hae proof o' ither had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nae mair need to mind what's said<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When we're thegither shearing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_133" id="vol4Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4BONNIE_PEGGIE_O" id="vol4BONNIE_PEGGIE_O"></a>BONNIE PEGGIE, O!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the siller burn rins clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the rose blooms on the brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My heart's been sick and sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But it shall be sae nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Let the world gae as it will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be it weel or be it ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nae mair my love is cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sorrow's sairest pang is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4A_WISH_BURST" id="vol4A_WISH_BURST"></a>A WISH BURST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the winds and waves for guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the wants of Nature free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all her ties besides.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_134" id="vol4Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond where footstep ever trode<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would I hold my onward way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild as the waves on which I rode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fearless too as they.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were music to mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close round me without fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When winter storms burst from the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trouble the ocean's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd joy me in their roaring loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mid their war find rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By islands fair in the ocean placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With waves all murmuring round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wayward course should still be traced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still no home be found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And men look out to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bark in silence by should glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wonder and awe to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sultry summer suns prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest on the parching land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cool sea breeze would I inhale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the ocean breathing bland.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restless sprite, that likes delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In calm and tempest found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever and aye to bound.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_135" id="vol4Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18" id="vol4I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18"></a>I LOVE THE MERRY MOONLIGHT.<a name="vol4FNanchor_18_18" id="vol4FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So wooingly it dances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight hours, round leaves and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On which the fresh dew glances.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On lake and pool so brightly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pours its beams, and in the stream's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rough current leaps so lightly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It ever shines so cheerily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When night clouds flit, that, but for it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would cast a shade so drearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For when it gleams so mildly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The passions rest that rule the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At other times so wildly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For 'neath it I can borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such blissful dreams, that this world seems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a sin or sorrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_136" id="vol4Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19" id="vol4OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19"></a>OH, WHAT ARE THE CHAINS OF LOVE MADE OF?<a name="vol4FNanchor_19_19" id="vol4FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what are the chains of Love made of,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bonds that can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As iron gyves the body, thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The free-born soul of man?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you twist a rope of beams of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or have you power to seize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round your hand, like threads of silk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wind up the wandering breeze?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you collect the morning dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, with the greatest pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat every drop into a link,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of these links make chains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More fleeting in their nature still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And less substantial are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than sunbeam, breeze, and drop of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smile, sigh, and tear—by far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet of these Love's chains are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bonds that can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As iron gyves the body, thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The free-born soul of man.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_137" id="vol4Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_WRIGHT" id="vol4JOHN_WRIGHT"></a>JOHN WRIGHT.</h2> + +<p>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 an<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_138" id="vol4Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>nounced 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_139" id="vol4Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD" id="vol4AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD"></a>AN AUTUMNAL CLOUD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring to heaven with the eagle so proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Floating o'er the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a spirit, to descry<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Each bright realm,—and, when I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">May it be my shroud!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would skim afar o'er ocean, and drink of bliss my fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the thunders of Ni'gara and cataracts of Nile,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With rising rainbows wreathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In mist and darkness sheathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where nought but spirits breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Around me the while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Above the mighty Alps (o'er the tempest's angry god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careering on the avalanche) should be my bless'd abode.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There, where Nature lowers more wild<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than her most uncultured child,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Revels beauty—as one smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er life's darkest mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our aerial flight should be where eye hath never been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the stormy Polar deep, where the icy Alps are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where Death sits, crested high,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As he would invade the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whilst the living valleys lie<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In their beautiful green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of the peaceful autumnal eve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child of enchantment! behind thee leave<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_140" id="vol4Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Thy semblance mantled o'er me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too full thy tide of glory<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For Fancy to restore thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or Memory give!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAIDEN_FAIR" id="vol4THE_MAIDEN_FAIR"></a>THE MAIDEN FAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The greenwood o'er the mossy stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That roll'd in rapture's wildest mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flutter'd in the fairy beam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through light clouds flash'd the fitful gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er hill and dell,—all Nature lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapp'd in enchantment, like the dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her that charm'd my homeward way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long had I mark'd thee, maiden fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drunk of bliss from thy dark eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still, to feed my fond despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bless'd thy approach, and, passing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd me round to gaze and sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In worship wild, and wish'd thee mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that fair breast to live and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er-power'd with transport so divine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still sacred be that hour to love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dear the season of its birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fair the glade, and green the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its bowers ne'er droop in wintry dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of melody and woodland mirth!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour, the spot, so dear to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wean'd my soul from all on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be for ever bless'd in thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_141" id="vol4Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN" id="vol4THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN"></a>THE OLD BLIGHTED THORN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night, by the pathway that crosses the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I waited on Mary, I linger'd till morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thought her not false—she had ever been true<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To her tryst by the old blighted thorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I had heard of Love lighting to darken the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fickle, fleeting as wind and the dews of the morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such were not my fears, though I sigh'd all night long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wept 'neath the old blighted thorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snows, that were deep, had awaken'd my dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I mark'd as footprints far below by the burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sped to the valley—I found her deep sunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her way to the old blighted thorn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I whisper'd, "My Mary!"—she spoke not: I caught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her hand, press'd her pale cheek—'twas icy and cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sunk on her bosom—its throbbings were o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor knew how I quitted my hold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_WRECKED_MARINER" id="vol4THE_WRECKED_MARINER"></a>THE WRECKED MARINER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stay, proud bird of the shore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Carry my last breath with thee to the cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where waits our shatter'd skiff—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One that shall mark nor it nor lover more.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_142" id="vol4Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fan with thy plumage bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her heaving heart to rest, as thou dost mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, gently to divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tearful tale, flap out her beacon-light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again swoop out to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lone and lingering wail—then lay thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thou thyself wert dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her breast, that she may weep for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now let her bid false Hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever hide her beam, nor trust again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peace-bereaving strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life has, but still far hence, choice flowers to crop.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bid not her repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deem my loss too bitter to be borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet all of passion scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mild, deep'ning memory of mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art away, sweet wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bear the last trickling tear-drop on thy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er her bosom fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love-fraught pearly shower till rest it find!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_143" id="vol4Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOSEPH_GRANT" id="vol4JOSEPH_GRANT"></a>JOSEPH GRANT.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Dundee Guardian</i> newspaper, and subsequently as clerk to a +respectable writer.</p> + +<p>Grant furnished a series of tales and sketches for <i>Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal</i>. 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_144" id="vol4Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> 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 <i>Northern Warder</i> newspaper; and, in 1836, an +edition of his collected works was published at Edinburgh, with a +biographical preface by the poet Nicol.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A kinder, warmer heart than his<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was ne'er to minstrel given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kinder, holier sympathies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er sought their native heaven."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_145" id="vol4Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET" id="vol4THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET"></a>THE BLACKBIRD'S HYMN IS SWEET.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blackbird's hymn is sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At fall of gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When slow, o'er grove and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Night's shades are coming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is a sound that far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More deeply moves us—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The low sweet voice of her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who truly loves us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair is the evening star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rising in glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the dark hill's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where mists are hoary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the star whose rays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart falls nearest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the love-speaking eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our heart's dearest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lonely, lonely is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The human bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er has nursed the sweets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of young Love's blossom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest breast is like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A starless morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When clouds frown dark and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And storms are forming.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_146" id="vol4Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LOVES_ADIEU" id="vol4LOVES_ADIEU"></a>LOVE'S ADIEU.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blinks over the dark green sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the moon 's creepin' down to the hill-tap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Richt dim and drowsilie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the music o' the mornin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is murmurin' alang the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still my dowie heart lingers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch one sweet throb mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We've been as blest, Eliza,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As children o' earth can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my fondest wish has been knit by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonds of povertie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' through life's misty sojourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That still may be our fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hearts that are link'd for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e strength to bear it a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cot by the mutterin' burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its wee bit garden an' field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ha'e mair o' the blessin's o' Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than lichts o' the lordliest bield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's many a young brow braided<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' jewels o' far-off isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But woe may be drinkin' the heart-springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we see nought but smiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But adieu, my ain Eliza!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er my wanderin's be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undyin' remembrance will make thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The star o' my destinie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' well I ken, thou loved one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That aye, till I return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt treasure pure faith in thy bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a gem in a gowden urn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_147" id="vol4Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4DUGALD_MOORE" id="vol4DUGALD_MOORE"></a>DUGALD MOORE.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_148" id="vol4Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> rendezvous of men of letters, +and many of the influential families gave its occupant the benefit of +their custom.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_149" id="vol4Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4RISE_MY_LOVE" id="vol4RISE_MY_LOVE"></a>RISE, MY LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, my love! the moon, unclouded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wanders o'er the dark blue sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep the tyrant's eye has shrouded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hynda comes to set thee free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave those vaults of pain and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the long and dreaming deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bower will greet us ere to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where our eyes may cease to weep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! some little isle of gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling in the waters clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dreary tone of sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never smote the lonely ear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon will greet us, and deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Souls so true, to freedom's plan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death may sunder us, but never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tyrant's threats, nor fetters can.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then our lute's exulting numbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unrestrain'd will wander on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the night has seal'd in slumbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair creation, all her own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we'll wed, while music stealeth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the starry fields above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each bounding spirit feeleth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the luxury of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then we'll scorn oppression's minions,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the despot's bolts and powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Time wreathes his heavy pinions<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With love's brightest passion-flowers.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_150" id="vol4Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, then! let us fly together,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now the moon laughs on the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">East or west, I care not whither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When with love and liberty!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4JULIA" id="vol4JULIA"></a>JULIA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Born where the glorious star-lights trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mountain snows their silver face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Nature, vast and rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks as if by her God design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fill the bright eternal mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her fair magnitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hers was a face, to which was given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less portion of the earth than heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if each trait had stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hue from Nature's shapes of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if stars, flowers, and all things bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had join'd to form her soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her heart was young—she loved to breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air which spins the mountain's wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wander o'er the wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To list the music of the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the round stars on it sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she was Nature's child!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nursed where the soul imbibes the print<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of freedom—where nought comes to taint,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or its warm feelings quell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She felt love o'er her spirit driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as the angels felt in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before they sinn'd and fell.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_151" id="vol4Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mind was tutor'd from its birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all that's beautiful on earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights which cannot expire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all their glory, she had caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lustre, till each sense seem'd fraught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heaven's celestial fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The desert streams familiar grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars had language of their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills contain'd a voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which she could converse, and bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A charm from each insensate thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which bade her soul rejoice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She had the feeling and the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fortune's stormiest blast could tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though delicate and young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom was not formed to bend—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adversity, that firmest friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had all its fibres strung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such was my love—she scorn'd to hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A passion which she deem'd a pride!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft have we sat and view'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous stars walk through the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cynthia lift her sceptre bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To curb old Ocean's mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She'd clasp me as if ne'er to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might feel her beating heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might read her living eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then pause! I've felt the pure tide roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through every vein, which to my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said—Nature could not lie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_152" id="vol4Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LUCYS_GRAVE" id="vol4LUCYS_GRAVE"></a>LUCY'S GRAVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My spirit could its vigil hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever at this silent spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! the heart within is cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sleeper heeds me not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairy scenes of love and youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smiles of hope, the tales of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By her are all forgot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spirit with my bliss is fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only weep above the dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I need not view the grassy swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor stone escutcheon'd fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need no monument to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou art lying there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel within, a world like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fearful blank in all my bliss—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An agonized despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which paints the earth in cheerful bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tells me, thou art in the tomb!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew Death's fatal power, alas<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could doom man's hopes to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thought that many a year would pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before he scatter'd mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon he quench'd our morning rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brief were our loves of early days—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brief as those bolts that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beautiful yet transient form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the dark fringes of the storm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I little thought, when first we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few short months would see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sun, before its noontide, set<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In dark eternity!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_153" id="vol4Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While love was beaming from thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lover's eye but ill could trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught that obscured its ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So calm its pain thy bosom bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought not death was at its core!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silver moon is shining now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon thy lonely bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as thine own unblemish'd brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold as thy virgin head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seems to breathe of many a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now shrouded with thee in the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of visions that have fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we beneath her holy flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream'd over hopes that never came!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! 'tis the solemn midnight bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It mars the hallow'd scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must we bid again—farewell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must life still intervene?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its charms are vain! my heart is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en with thine own, celestial maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few short days have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age of pain—a few may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A welcome passport, love! to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE" id="vol4THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE"></a>THE FORGOTTEN BRAVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the patriot sons of the mountain should die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the mail on each bosom, the sword in each hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the heath of the desert they lie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_154" id="vol4Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like their own mountain eagles they rush'd to the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the oaks of their deserts they braved its rude blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blades in the morning look'd dazzling and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But red when the battle was past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They rush'd on, exulting in honour, and met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foes of their country in battle array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun of their glory in darkness hath set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flowers of the forest are faded away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or drop o'er their ashes a tear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_FIRST_SHIP" id="vol4THE_FIRST_SHIP"></a>THE FIRST SHIP.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The sky in beauty arch'd<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The wide and weltering flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the winds in triumph march'd<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Through their pathless solitude—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That like space in darkness slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When his watch old Silence kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere the earliest planet leapt<br /></span> +<span class="i8">From its breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A speck is on the deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Like a spirit in her flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How beautiful she keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Her stately path in light!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_155" id="vol4Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sun has on her smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the waves, no longer wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing in glory round that child<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">'Twas at the set of sun<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That she tilted o'er the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Moving like God alone<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er the glorious solitude—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The billows crouch around her as her slaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How exulting are her crew—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Each sight to them is new,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they sweep along the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the waves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Fair herald of the fleets<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That yet shall cross the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the earth with ocean meets<br /></span> +<span class="i6">One universal grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What armaments shall follow thee in joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Linking each distant land<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With trade's harmonious band,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or bearing havoc's brand<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To destroy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WEEP_NOT" id="vol4WEEP_NOT"></a>WEEP NOT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though this wild brain is aching,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spill not thy tears with mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my heart, though breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its firmest half is thine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_156" id="vol4Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wert not made for sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then do not weep with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a lovely morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That yet will dawn on thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I am all forgotten—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When in the grave I lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the heart that loved thee 's broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And closed the sparkling eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's sunshine still will cheer thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unsullied, pure, and deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the God who 's ever near thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will never see thee weep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4TO_THE_CLYDE" id="vol4TO_THE_CLYDE"></a>TO THE CLYDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When cities of old days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But meet the savage gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream of my early ways<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou wilt roll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fleets forsake thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And millions sink to rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bright and glorious west<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the porch and stately arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now so proudly perch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thy billows, on their march<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but ashes in the shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the jocund summer hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his cloud will weave a bower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Over thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_157" id="vol4Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the voice of human power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has ceased in mart and bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the broom and mountain flower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will thee bless.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mists that love to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the Highlands, far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will come down their deserts gray<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the stranger, brown with toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far Atlantic soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the pilgrim of the Nile,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet may come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To search the solemn heaps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That moulder by thy deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where desolation sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ever dumb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fetters yet should clank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the gay and princely rank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cities on thy bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All sublime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still thou wilt wander on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till eternity has gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And broke the dial stone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of old Time.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_158" id="vol4Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON" id="vol4REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON"></a>REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_159" id="vol4Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_160" id="vol4Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_ARABY_MAID" id="vol4THE_ARABY_MAID"></a>THE ARABY MAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away on the wings of the wind she flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a thing of life and light—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she bounds beneath the eastern skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the beauty of eastern night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so fast flies the bark through the ocean's foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why wings it so speedy a flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis an Araby maid who hath left her home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fly with her Christian knight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She hath left her sire and her native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land which from childhood she trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hath sworn, by the pledge of her beautiful hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To worship the Christian's God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then away, away, oh swift be thy flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It were death one moment's delay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For behind there is many a blade glancing bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then away—away—away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They are safe in the land where love is divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land of the free and the brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have knelt at the foot of the holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought can sever them now but the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAIDENS_VOW" id="vol4THE_MAIDENS_VOW"></a>THE MAIDEN'S VOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maid is at the altar kneeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark the chant is loudly pealing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now it dies away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_161" id="vol4Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her prayers are said at the holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other thought but thought divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth her sad bosom fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world to her is nothing now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she hath ta'en a solemn vow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To do her father's will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But why hath one so fair, so young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joys of life thus from her flung—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why hath she ta'en the veil?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lover fell where the brave should fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the fight, when the trumpet's call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proclaim'd the victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He fought, he fell, a hero brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he fill a lowly grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His name can never die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The victory's news to the maiden came—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They loudly breathed her lover's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who for his country fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But vain the loudest trumpet tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fame to her, when he was gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom the praise was given!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her sun of life had set in gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its joys were withered in his tomb—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She vow'd herself to Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_162" id="vol4Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_LOVE_THE_SEA" id="vol4I_LOVE_THE_SEA"></a>I LOVE THE SEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the sea, I love the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My childhood's home, my manhood's rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cradle in my infancy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bosom I have press'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot breathe upon the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its manners are as bonds to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till on the deck again I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cannot feel that I am free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then tell me not of stormy graves—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though winds be high, there let them roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd rather perish on the waves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than pine by inches on the shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no willow where I lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mourner let the mermaid be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My only knell the sea-bird's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My winding-sheet the boundless sea!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_163" id="vol4Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4GEORGE_ALLAN" id="vol4GEORGE_ALLAN"></a>GEORGE ALLAN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Dumfries Journal</i>, 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_164" id="vol4Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> 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."</p></div> + +<p>On terminating his connexion with the <i>Dumfries Journal</i>, 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:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"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."</p></div> + +<p>Besides contributing many interesting articles to <i>Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal</i>, and furnishing numerous communications to the <i>Scotsman</i> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_165" id="vol4Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> "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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_20_20" id="vol4FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_166" id="vol4Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21" id="vol4IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21"></a>IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?<a name="vol4FNanchor_21_21" id="vol4FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give back our wrongs to the giver?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then raise your wild slogan-cry—on to the foray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.—(<span class="smcap">M'Crimman</span>.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_167" id="vol4Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Never! Never! Never!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.—(<span class="smcap">Clansmen</span>.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crimman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the soul of M'Crimman ne'er quail'd when a foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bared his blade in the land he had won not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There our broad pennon flies, and the keen steeds are prancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the startling war-cries, and the war-weapons glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then raise your wild slogan-cry—on to the foray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET" id="vol4I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET"></a>I WILL THINK OF THEE YET.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land of the stranger, deserted and lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the flowers of this earth are all wither'd to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hopes which once bloom'd in my bosom are gone,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_168" id="vol4Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, and the vision of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will oft bring thine image again to my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tokens will be, as the dream passes by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh from the heart and a tear from the eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, though misfortune fall chill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er my path, as yon storm-cloud that lours on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll deem that this life is worth cherishing still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I know that one heart still beats warmly for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! Grief and Despair may encompass me round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till not e'en the shadow of peace can be found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine anguish will cease when my thoughts turn to you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild mountain land which my infancy knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee; oh! if I e'er can forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that grew warm as all others grew cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill but be when the sun of my reason hath set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or memory fled from her care-haunted hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But while life and its woes to bear on is my doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall my love, like a flower in the wilderness, bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thine still shall be, as so long it hath been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light to my soul when no other is seen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE" id="vol4LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE"></a>LASSIE, DEAR LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the brier-bush is sweet whar the burnie is rowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the best buds of Nature may blaw till they weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere they match the sweet e'e or the cheek o' my dearie!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_169" id="vol4Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wander alane, when the gray gloamin' closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lift is spread out like a garden o' roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nought which the earth or the sky can discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae fair as thysell to thy fond-hearted lover!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snaw-flake is pure frae the clud when it 's shaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melts into dew ere it fa's on the bracken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh sae pure is the heart I hae won to my keepin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But warm as the sun-blink that thaw'd it to weepin'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come to my arms, and the bosom thou 'rt pressing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will tell by its throbs a' there's joy in confessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my lips could repeat it a thousand times over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tale still seem new to thy fond-hearted lover.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22" id="vol4WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22"></a>WHEN I LOOK FAR DOWN ON THE VALLEY BELOW ME.<a name="vol4FNanchor_22_22" id="vol4FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I look far down on the valley below me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lowly the lot of the cottager's cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the hues of the evening seem ling'ring to shew me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How calmly the sun of this life may be pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft have I wish'd that kind Heaven had granted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hours in such spot to have peacefully run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, if pleasures were few, they were all that I wanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Contentment 's a blessing which wealth never won.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have mingled with mankind, and far I have wander'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have shared all the joys youth so madly pursues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been where the bounties of Nature were squander'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till man became thankless and learn'd to refuse!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_170" id="vol4Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet <i>there</i> I still found that man's innocence perish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the senses might sway or the passions command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the scenes where alone the soul's treasures were cherish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were the peaceful abodes of my own native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then why should I leave this dear vale of my choice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the friends of my bosom, so faithful and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mix in the great world, whose jarring and noise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must make my soul cheerless though sorrows were few?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! too sweet would this life of probation be render'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our feelings ebb back from Eternity's strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hopes of Elysium in vain would be tender'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could we have all we wish'd in our dear native land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23" id="vol4I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23"></a>I WILL WAKE MY HARP WHEN THE SHADES OF EVEN.<a name="vol4FNanchor_23_23" id="vol4FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will wake my harp when the shades of even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are closing around the dying day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thoughts that wear the hues of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are weaning my heart from the world away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my strain will tell of a land and home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which my wand'ring steps have left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hearts that throb and the feet that roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are free as the breath of their mountain wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will wake my harp when the star of Vesper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath open'd its eye on the peaceful earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When not a leaf is heard to whisper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a dew-drop falls, or a breeze hath birth.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_171" id="vol4Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And you, dear friends of my youthful years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will oft be the theme of my lonely lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a smile for the past will gild the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That tell how my heart is far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will wake my harp when the moon is holding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her star-tent court in the midnight sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the spirits of love, their wings unfolding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring down sweet dreams to each fond one's eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well may I hail that blissful hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my spirit will then, from its thrall set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return to my own lov'd maiden's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gather each sigh that she breathes for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, still when those pensive hours are bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feelings and thoughts which no lips can tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will charm each cloud from my soul by singing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all I have left and lov'd so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! Fate may smile, and Sorrow may cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the dearest hope we on earth can gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to come, after long sad years, in peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be join'd with the friends of our love, again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_172" id="vol4Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4THOMAS_BRYDSON" id="vol4THOMAS_BRYDSON"></a>THOMAS BRYDSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>; the <i>Republic of +Letters</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_173" id="vol4Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT" id="vol4ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT"></a>ALL LOVELY AND BRIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem the days when I wander'd with you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the green isles that swell in this far distant clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the deeps that are trackless and blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, while the torrent is loud on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the howl of the forest is drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think of the lapse of our own native rill—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think of thy voice with a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The light of my taper is fading away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It hovers, and trembles, and dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far-coming morn on her sea-paths is gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sleep will not come to mine eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet why should I ponder, or why should I grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the joys that my childhood has known?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We may meet, when the dew-flowers are fragrant at eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we met in the days that are gone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_174" id="vol4Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY" id="vol4CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY"></a>CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY.</h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_24_24" id="vol4FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_175" id="vol4Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> 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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>. He ultimately undertook the editorial +superintendence of a religious periodical.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_176" id="vol4Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> with +pulmonary consumption, and died at Edinburgh on the 16th May 1836, in +his twenty-ninth year.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_177" id="vol4Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY" id="vol4SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY"></a>SHE DIED IN BEAUTY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blown from its parent stem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dropp'd from some diadem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along a moonlit lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like the song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of birds amid the brake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like the snow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On flowers dissolved away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lost on the brow of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She <i>lives</i> in glory! like night's gems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set round the silver moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She lives in glory! like the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid the blue of June!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS" id="vol4THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS"></a>THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His pastures of perfume, and rose-cover'd dells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_178" id="vol4Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For brave is the chieftain your prowess who quells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout in the chorus for ever and ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On blue-bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awake! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come forth with your chorus, all chanting together—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout in the chorus for ever and ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_179" id="vol4Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ROBERT_MILLER" id="vol4ROBERT_MILLER"></a>ROBERT MILLER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHERE_ARE_THEY" id="vol4WHERE_ARE_THEY"></a>WHERE ARE THEY?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The loved of early days!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are they?—where?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not on the shining braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountains bare;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not where the regal streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their foam-bells cast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where childhood's time of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sunshine pass'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some in the mart, and some<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In stately halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the ancestral gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of ancient walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some where the tempest sweeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The desert waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some where the myrtle weeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Roman graves.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_180" id="vol4Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And pale young faces gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With solemn eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a remember'd dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dead arise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the red track of war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The restless sweep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sunlit graves afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loved ones sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The braes are dight with flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foam past me in the showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sunny gleams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the light hearts that cast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glory there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rejoicing past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are they?—where?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS" id="vol4LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS"></a>LAY OF THE HOPELESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the restless and weary wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the calm of my early grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart with its pulses of fire and life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! would it were still as stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, of all the strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the selfish world I 've known.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've drunk up bliss from a mantling cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When youth and joy were mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the cold black dregs are floating up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Instead of the laughing wine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_181" id="vol4Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And life hath lost its loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And youth hath spent its hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasure palls like bitterness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hope hath not a flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And love! was it not a glorious eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That smiled on my early dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is closed for aye, where the long weeds sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the churchyard by the stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fame—oh! mine were gorgeous hopes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a flashing and young renown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But early, early the flower-leaf drops<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the withering seed-cup down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And beauty! have I not worshipp'd all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her shining creations well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rock—the wood—the waterfall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where light or where love might dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But over all, and on my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mildew hath fallen sadly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no spirit, I have no part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the earth that smiles so gladly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I only sigh for a quiet bright spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the churchyard by the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon the morning sunbeams float,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stars at midnight dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where only Nature's sounds may wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sacred and silent air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only her beautiful things may break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the long grass gathering there.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_182" id="vol4Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALEXANDER_HUME" id="vol4ALEXANDER_HUME"></a>ALEXANDER HUME.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_183" id="vol4Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_184" id="vol4Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Daft Wattie</i>, +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,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Musical as is Apollo's lute,"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_185" id="vol4Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_186" id="vol4Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> he sold became exceedingly popular in the +metropolis; nor was he disappointed in the hope of realising +considerable pecuniary advantages.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_187" id="vol4Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE" id="vol4MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE"></a>MY WEE, WEE WIFE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Boatie Rows."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My wee wife dwells in yonder cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! happy is the husband's lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bairnies on his knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright is day how sweet is life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When love lights up the e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The king o'er me may wear a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have millions bow the knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lacks he love to share his throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How poor a king is he!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let kings ha'e thrones, 'mang warld's strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hearts are thrones to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've felt oppression's galling chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've shed the tear o' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But feeling aye lost a' its pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my wee wife was near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chains we wear are sweet to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sad could we go free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4O_POVERTY" id="vol4O_POVERTY"></a>O POVERTY!</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eliza was a bonnie lass, and oh! she lo'ed me weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic love as canna find a tongue, but only hearts can feel;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_188" id="vol4Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But I was poor, her faither doure, he wadna look on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I went unto her mother, and I argued and I fleech'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spak o' love and honesty, and mair and mair beseech'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she was deaf to a' my grief, she wadna look on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I next went to her brother, and I painted a' my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I told him o' our plighted troth, but it was a' in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he was deep in love himsel', nae feeling he'd for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! wealth it makes the fool a sage, the knave an honest man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And canker'd gray locks young again, if he has gear and lan';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To age maun beauty ope her arms, though wi' a tearfu' e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But wait a wee, oh! love is slee, and winna be said nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It breaks a' chains, except its ain, but it will ha'e its way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite o' fate we took the gate, now happy as can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! we're wed in spite o' thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4NANNY" id="vol4NANNY"></a>NANNY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Fee him, Father."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's mony a flower beside the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweets beside the honey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But laws maun change ere life disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A flower or sweet like Nanny.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_189" id="vol4Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her e'e is like the summer sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When clouds can no conceal it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're blind if it ye look upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! mad if ere ye feel it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've mony bonnie lassies seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Baith blithesome, kind, an' canny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the day has never been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've seen another Nanny!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's like the mavis in her sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the brakens bloomin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips ope to an angel's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But kiss her, oh! she's woman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MY_BESSIE" id="vol4MY_BESSIE"></a>MY BESSIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Bessie, oh! but look upon these bonnie budding flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! do they no remember ye o' mony happy hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on this green and gentle hill we aften met to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye were like the morning sun, an' life a nightless day?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gowans blossom'd bonnilie, I 'd pu' them from the stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' rin in noisy blithesomeness to thee, my Bess, wi' them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To place them in thy lily breast, for ae sweet smile on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw nae mair the gowans then, then saw I only thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_190" id="vol4Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MENIE_HAY" id="vol4MENIE_HAY"></a>MENIE HAY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wee bird sits upon a spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye it sings o' Menie Hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burthen o' its cheery lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's not a bonnie flower in May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_191" id="vol4Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A light in yonder window 's seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' it seen is Menie Hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha gazes on the dewy green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sits the bird upon the spray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At sic a time, in sic a way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What seek ye there, my daughter dear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dear mother, but the stars sae clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the bonnie Milky Way."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye something see ye daurna say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The window 's shut, the light is gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' it gane is Menie Hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wha is seen upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissing sweetly Menie Hay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ane sae young ye ken the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from blate, O Menie Hay!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gae scour the country, hill and dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search ilka nook, in town or vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my daughter, Menie Hay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_192" id="vol4Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL" id="vol4I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL"></a>I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye smiled in look, but no in heart—your heart was no for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_193" id="vol4Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_YEARS_HAE_COME" id="vol4OH_YEARS_HAE_COME"></a>OH! YEARS HAE COME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' first I sought the warld alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! behold the present gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My early friends are in the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nourish now the heather bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father's name, my father's lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now a tale that 's heeded not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sang unsung, if no forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' swept away, like snaw lang gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some sad heart maist grutten dry<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee birds sing no frae the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the kind things pitied me<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But friends can live, though cold they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we forget them, then they die<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_194" id="vol4Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' howsoever changed the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still green to my auld heart an' e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Are the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME" id="vol4MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME"></a>MY MOUNTAIN HAME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gala Water."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mountain hame, my mountain hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My kind, my independent mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thought and feeling rule my frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can I forget the mountain heather?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love to hear your daughters dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The simple tale in song revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er your music greets my ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I to other lands may gae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should Fortune's smile attend me thither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And look again on the mountain heather—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I maun die, oh! I would lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where life and me first met together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my cauld clay, through its decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might bloom again in the mountain heather—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_195" id="vol4Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4THOMAS_SMIBERT" id="vol4THOMAS_SMIBERT"></a>THOMAS SMIBERT.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Journal</i>. 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 +<i>Journal</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_196" id="vol4Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, entitled +"Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the +sub-editorship of the <i>Scotsman</i> 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 <i>Hogg's Instructor</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_197" id="vol4Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT" id="vol4THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT"></a>THE SCOTTISH WIDOW'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afore the Lammas tide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had dun'd the birken-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a' our water side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae wife was bless'd like me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kind gudeman, and twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet bairns were 'round me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they're a' ta'en awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sair trouble cam' our gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made me, when it cam',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bird without a mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ewe without a lamb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hay was yet to maw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our corn was to shear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they a' dwined awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I downa look a-field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For aye I trow I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form that was a bield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my wee bairns and me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wind, and weet, and snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They never mair can fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' they a' got the ca'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft on the hill at e'ens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see him 'mang the ferns—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lover o' my teens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faither o' my bairns;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_198" id="vol4Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For there his plaid I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As gloamin' aye drew near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my a's now awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bonnie rigs theirsel',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reca' my waes to mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our puir dumb beasties tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' a' that I hae tyned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wha our wheat will saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wha our sheep will shear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' my a' gaed awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hearth is growing cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will be caulder still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sair, sair in the fauld<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will be the winter's chill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For peats were yet to ca',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our sheep they were to smear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my a' passed awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ettle whiles to spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wee, wee patterin' feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come rinnin' out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then I just maun greet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken it 's fancy a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And faster rows the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my a' dwined awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be kind, O Heaven abune!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ane sae wae and lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tak' her hamewards sune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pity o' her maen.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_199" id="vol4Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lang ere the March winds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May she, far far frae here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet them a' that's awa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25" id="vol4THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25"></a>THE HERO OF ST JOHN D'ACRE.<a name="vol4FNanchor_25_25" id="vol4FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The banner of England is spread to the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud is the cheering that hails the uprearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of glory's loved emblem, the pride of the seas.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No tempest shall daunt her,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No victor-foe taunt her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What manhood can do in her cause shall be done—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Britannia's best seaman,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The boast of her freemen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will conquer or die by his colours and gun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Acre's proud turrets an ensign is flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which stout hearts are banded till death to uphold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bold is their crying, and fierce their defying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When trench'd in their ramparts, unconquer'd of old.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But lo! in the offing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To punish their scoffing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No danger can stay him,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No foeman dismay him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He conquers or dies by his colours and gun.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_200" id="vol4Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But Napier now tenders<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To Acre's defenders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aid of a friend when the combat is won;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For mercy's sweet blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Blooms fresh in his bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All hail to the hero!" his country is calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And "hail to his comrades!" the faithful and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And long may the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In calm and commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And when foes would wound us<br /></span> +<span class="i6">May Napier be round us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To conquer or die by their colours and gun!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES" id="vol4OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES"></a>OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bonnie are the howes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sunny are the knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feed the kye and yowes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where my life's morn dawn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brightly glance the rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spring amang the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ca' the merry mills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my ain dear land.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_201" id="vol4Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now I canna see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lammies on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hear the heather bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this far, far strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see nae father's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae burnie's waterfa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wander far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart was free and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ingle burning bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ruin cam' by night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through a foe's fell hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaed to come nae mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I sorrow sair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But blithely will I bide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er may yet betide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ane is by my side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this far, far strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Jean will soon be here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This waefu' heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dry the fa'ing tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA" id="vol4OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA"></a>OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! say na you maun gang awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! say na you maun leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreaded hour that parts us twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of peace and hope will reave me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_202" id="vol4Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you to distant shores are gane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How could I bear to tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ilka tree and ilka stane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would mind me o' my Mary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I couldna wander near yon woods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That saw us oft caressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on our heads let fa' their buds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In earnest o' their blessing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its half-o'erspreading heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how we lo'ed the least the best<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That made us creep thegither.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I couldna bide, when you are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain, my winsome dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I couldna stay to pine my lane—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I live but when I 'm near ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then say na you maun gang awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! say na you maun leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! the hour that parts us twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of life itself will reave me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_203" id="vol4Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_BETHUNE" id="vol4JOHN_BETHUNE"></a>JOHN BETHUNE.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol4FNanchor_26_26" id="vol4FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> 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 neigh<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_204" id="vol4Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>bouring +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 approach<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_205" id="vol4Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>ing 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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scottish Christian Herald</i>, <i>Wilson's Tales +of the Borders</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_206" id="vol4Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_207" id="vol4Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WITHERD_FLOWERS" id="vol4WITHERD_FLOWERS"></a>WITHER'D FLOWERS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your day of glory's past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But your latest smile was loveliest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For we knew it was your last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the sweet aroma<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of your golden cups shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scent the morning's stilly breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye were the sweetest offerings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Friendship could bestow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A token of devoted love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pleasure or in woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye graced the head of infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By soft affection twined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a fairy coronal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its sunny brows to bind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! a dreary blast hath blown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athwart you in your bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, pale and sickly, now your leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hues of death assume.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We mourn your vanish'd loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye sweet departed flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! the fate which blighted you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An emblem is of ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_208" id="vol4Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We wither and depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave behind, to mourn our loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full many an aching heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when the winter of the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is past, we hope to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blossom in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4A_SPRING_SONG" id="vol4A_SPRING_SONG"></a>A SPRING SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a concert in the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a concert on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's melody in every breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And music in the murmuring rill.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shower is past, the winds are still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields are green, the flow'rets spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds, and bees, and beetles fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air with harmony, and fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rosied moisture of the leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In frolic flight from wing to wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fretting the spider as he weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His airy web from bough to bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain the little artist grieves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their joy in his destruction now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! that, in a scene so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The meanest being e'er should feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gloomy shadow of despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_209" id="vol4Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But in a world where woe is real,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each rank in life, and every day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must pain and suffering reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wretched mourners in decay—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nations smile o'er battles won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When banners wave and streamers play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lonely mother mourns her son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left lifeless on the bloody clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the poor widow, all undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees the wild revel with dismay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even in the happiest scenes of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When swell'd the bridal-song on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every voice was tuned to mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy was shot from eye to eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've heard a sadly-stifled sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, 'mid the garlands rich and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've seen a cheek, which once could vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In beauty with the fairest there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grown deadly pale, although a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was worn above to cloak despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor maid! it was a hapless wile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of long-conceal'd and hopeless love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hide a heart, which broke the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pangs no lighter heart could prove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The joyous spring and summer gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With perfumed gifts together meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the rosy lips of May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe music soft and odours sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still my eyes delay my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze upon the earth and heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear the happy birds repeat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their anthems to the coming even;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_210" id="vol4Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yet is my pleasure incomplete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grieve to think how few are given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To feel the pleasures I possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must pine in utter loneliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be to desperation driven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could we find some happy land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some Eden of the deep blue sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By gentle breezes only fann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon whose soil, from sorrow free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew only pure felicity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not brave the stormiest main<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within that blissful isle to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exempt from sight or sense of pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a land we cannot see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose joys no pen can e'er portray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet, so narrow is the road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From it our spirits ever stray—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed light upon that path, O God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lead us in the appointed way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There only joy shall be complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More high than mortal thoughts can reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the just and good shall meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure in affection, thought, and speech;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No jealousy shall make a breach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor pain their pleasure e'er alloy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sunny streams of gladness stretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the very air is joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There shall the faithful, who relied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On faithless love till life would cloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those who sorrow'd till they died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earthly pain and earthly woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See Pleasure, like a whelming tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From an unbounded ocean flow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_211" id="vol4Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALLAN_STEWART" id="vol4ALLAN_STEWART"></a>ALLAN STEWART.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_212" id="vol4Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_SEA-BOY" id="vol4THE_SEA-BOY"></a>THE SEA-BOY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Soldier's Tear."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The storm grew faint as daylight tinged<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lofty billows' crest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love-lit hopes, with fears yet fringed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Danced in the sea-boy's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perch'd aloft, he cheer'ly sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the billows' less'ning roar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll see thee yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And O what joy beam'd in his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, o'er the dusky foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw, beneath the northern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills that mark'd his home!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart with double ardour strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sung this ditty o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll see thee yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now towers and trees rise on his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a dear-loved spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, smiling o'er the blue waves bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He saw young Ellen's cot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scenes on which his memory hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A cheerful aspect wore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then, with joyous feeling, sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I 'll see her yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land they near'd, and on the beach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stood many a female form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! his eye it could not reach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hope in many a storm.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_213" id="vol4Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He through the spray impatient sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gain'd the wish'd-for shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Ellen, so fair, so sweet, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was gone for evermore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MENIE_LORN" id="vol4MENIE_LORN"></a>MENIE LORN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While beaus and belles parade the streets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On summer gloamings gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barter'd smiles and borrow'd sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all such vain display;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My walks are where the bean-field's breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On evening's breeze is borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her, the angel of my heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lovely Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love's ambuscades her auburn hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's throne her azure eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where peerless charms and virtues rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In blended beauty lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose is fair at break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet the blushing thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter, fairer far than they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The smile of Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O tell me not of olive groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where gold and gems abound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deep blue eyes and maiden loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With every virtue crown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no other ray of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's desert to adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that sweet bliss, which ne'er can cloy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love of Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_214" id="vol4Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER" id="vol4THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER"></a>THE YOUNG SOLDIER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Banks of the Devon."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O say not o' war the young soldier is weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye wha in battle ha'e witness'd his flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember his daring when danger was near ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgive ye the sigh that he heaves for his hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past perils he heeds not, nor dangers yet coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae dark-brooding terror his young heart is free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it pants for the place whar in youth he was roaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He turns to the north wi' the tear in his e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis remembrance that saftens what war never daunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the hame o' his birth that gives birth to the tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm fondled hopes his first love had implanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He langs now to reap in his Jeanie sae dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aften he thinks on the bonnie clear burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar oft in love's fondness they daff'd their young day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae tear then was shedded, for short was the journey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tween Jeanie's broom bower and the blaeberry brae.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' weel does he mind o' that morning, when dressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In green Highland garb, to cross the wide sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His auld mither grat when she gi'ed him her blessing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas a' that the puir body then had to gi'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black downy plume on his bonnie cheek babbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he stood at the door an' shook hands wi' them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sair was his heart, an' sair Jeanie sabbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan down the burn-side she convoy'd him awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now high-headed Alps an' dark seas divide them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilds ne'er imagined in love's early dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their Alps then the knowes, whare the lambs lay beside them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their seas then the hazel an' saugh-shaded stream.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_215" id="vol4Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' wha couldna sigh when memory 's revealing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scenes that surrounded our life's early hame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hero whose heart is cauld to that feeling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His nature is harsh, and not worthy the name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_LAND_I_LOVE" id="vol4THE_LAND_I_LOVE"></a>THE LAND I LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the land of the plaid and bonnet blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the gallant heart, the firm and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The land of the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Isle of the freeborn, honour'd and blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isle of beauty, in innocence dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest star on ocean's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is the land of the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair are those isles of Indian bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flowers perpetual breathe perfume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer far are the braes o' broom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where blooms the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No luscious fig-tree blossoms there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No slaves the scented shrubb'ry rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sons are free as the mountain air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That shakes the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovely 's the tint o' an eastern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovely the lands that 'neath it lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I wish to live, and I wish to die<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the land of the hardy thistle!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_216" id="vol4Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ROBERT_L_MALONE" id="vol4ROBERT_L_MALONE"></a>ROBERT L. MALONE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Marshall</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_217" id="vol4Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND" id="vol4THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND"></a>THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Humours o' Glen."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And green be thy emblem, thou gem of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greenest, the sweetest, the fairest of flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far lovelier flowers glow, the woodlands adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And breathing perfume over moorland and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there breathes not a bud on the freshness of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What scenes o' langsyne even thy name can awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou badge of the fearless, the fair, and the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tenderest chords of the spirit are shaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still'd be my harp, and forgotten its numbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cold as the grave my affections must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere thy name fail to waken my soul from her slumbers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the fields of their fame, while proud laurels she gathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Caledonia plants, wi' the tear in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soft downy seeds on the graves of our fathers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_218" id="vol4Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY" id="vol4HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY"></a>HAME IS AYE HAMELY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Love's Young Dream."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's gowd in gowpens got, they say, on India's sunny strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wha would bear to linger here in this bleak, barren land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hie me ower the heaving wave, and win myself a name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a palace or a grave forget my Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His good sword won him wealth and power and long and loud acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But could not banish from his thoughts his dear-loved mountain hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! The peasant's heart within the peer beat true to nature still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on his vision oft would rise the cottage on the hill;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_219" id="vol4Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! in the Brahmin, mild and gray, his father's face he saw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought upon his mother's tears the day he gaed awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her he loved—his Hieland girl—there 's magic in the name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where his father's cottage stood a stately palace stands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his grandchild on his knee—the old man's heart on flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts of hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! hame is aye hamely, dear, though poor at times it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_220" id="vol4Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4PETER_STILL" id="vol4PETER_STILL"></a>PETER STILL.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_221" id="vol4Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4JEANIES_LAMENT" id="vol4JEANIES_LAMENT"></a>JEANIE'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lord Gregory."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never thocht to thole the waes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's been my lot to dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never thocht to sigh sae sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan first I sigh'd for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thocht your heart was like mine ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As true as true could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I couldna think there was a stain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ane sae dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan first amang the dewy flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aside yon siller stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lowin' heart was press'd to yours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae purer did they seem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae purer seem'd the draps o' dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers on whilk they hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than seem'd the heart I felt in you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to that heart I clung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I was young an' thochtless then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' easy to beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mither's warnin's had nae weight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Bout man's deceitfu' smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But noo, alas! whan she is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've shed the sad, saut tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung my heavy, heavy head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon my father's bier!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They saw their earthly hope betray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They saw their Jeanie fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They couldna thole the heavy stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' baith are lowly laid!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_222" id="vol4Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Jamie! but thy name again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ne'er be breathed by me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, speechless through yon gow'ny glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll wander till I die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME" id="vol4YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME"></a>YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"John Todd."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye needna' be courtin' at me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're threescore an' three, an' ye 're blin' o' an e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye needna' be courtin' at me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're auld an' ye 're cauld, an' ye 're blin' an' ye 're bald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ye 're nae for a lassie like me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye 're nae for a lassie like me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A heart that lo'es nane but thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll busk you as braw as a queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what 's mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Only twa score an' fifteen."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_223" id="vol4Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To me he shall ever be dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a something in love that your gowd canna move—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME" id="vol4THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME"></a>THE BUCKET FOR ME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awa' wi' your bickers o' barley bree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though good ye may think it, I 'll never mair drink it—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's health in the bucket, there 's wealth in the bucket,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's mair i' the bucket than mony can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye whan I leuk in 't, I find there 's a beuk in 't<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That teaches the essence o' wisdom to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan whisky I swiggit, my wifie aye beggit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' aft did she sit wi' the tear in her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But noo—wad you think it?—whan water I drink it<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right blithesome she smiles on the bucket an' me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_224" id="vol4Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The bucket 's a treasure nae mortal can measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's happit my wee bits o' bairnies an' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' noo roun' my ingle, whare sorrows did mingle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've pleasure, an' plenty, an' glances o' glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bucket 's the bicker that keeps a man sicker,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bucket 's a shield an' a buckler to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pool or in gutter nae langer I 'll splutter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But walk like a freeman wha feels he is free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye drunkards, be wise noo, an' alter your choice noo—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come cling to the bucket, an' prosper like me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll find it is better to swig "caller water,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than groan in a gutter without a bawbee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_225" id="vol4Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ROBERT_NICOLL" id="vol4ROBERT_NICOLL"></a>ROBERT NICOLL.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Johnstone's Magazine</i>, 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_226" id="vol4Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> to some men of letters, who subsequently evinced a warm +interest in his career.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Leeds Times</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_227" id="vol4Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_228" id="vol4Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4ORDE_BRAES" id="vol4ORDE_BRAES"></a>ORDÉ BRAES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae ither spot sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae ither faces look sae kind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the smilin' faces there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I ha'e sat by mony streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e travell'd mony ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fairest spot on the earth to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is on bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An ell-lang wee thing then I ran<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the ither neeber bairns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pu' the hazel's shining nuts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' to wander 'mang the ferns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' to feast on the bramble-berries brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' gather the glossy slaes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the burnie's side, an' aye sinsyne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ha'e loved sweet Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The memories o' my father's hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' its kindly dwellers a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the friends I loved wi' a young heart's love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere care that heart could thraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are twined wi' the stanes o' the silver burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' its fairy crooks an' bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That onward sang 'neath the gowden broom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aince in a day there were happy hames<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the bonnie Ordé's side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nane ken how meikle peace an' love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a straw-roof'd cot can bide.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_229" id="vol4Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But thae hames are gane, an' the hand o' time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roofless wa's doth raze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laneness an' sweetness hand in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gang ower the Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! an' the sun were shinin' now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An', oh! an' I were there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' twa three friends o' auld langsyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My wanderin' joy to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though on the hearth o' my bairnhood's hame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flock o' the hills doth graze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some kind hearts live to love me yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM" id="vol4THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM"></a>THE MUIR O' GORSE AND BROOM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna bide in your castle ha's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet in your lofty towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sick o' your darksome bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! I wish I were far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae their grandeur an' their gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blaws fu' kindly there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wave on the muirland bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the little lochs that toom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gushing burns to the distant sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_230" id="vol4Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if I had a dwallin' there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Biggit laigh by a burnie's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ae aik tree, in the summer time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its leaves that hame might hide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As blithe as a young bridegroom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dearer than palaces to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a lanely cot on a muirland wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mither nurtured me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the meek wild-flowers I playmates made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' my hame wi' the wandering bee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', oh! if I were far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae your grandeur an' your gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS" id="vol4THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS"></a>THE BONNIE HIELAND HILLS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But o' riches or beauty we mak na our care;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_231" id="vol4Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts to the burstin'—our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though born in the midst o' the elements' war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH" id="vol4THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH"></a>THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the burnie clear doth gush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My head is white and auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' my bluid is thin an' cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Jeanie first I met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the grass wi' dew was wet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_232" id="vol4Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The moon was shining sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' our hearts wi' love did beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! she promised to be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart she did resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did o'er us pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sax bonnie bairns had we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lads an' lassies young an' spree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a blither family<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ours there cou'dna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now my auld wife's gane awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though summer sweet doth fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On yon lane glen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me its beauty's gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, alake! I sit alane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_233" id="vol4Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE" id="vol4BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE"></a>BONNIE BESSIE LEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mirth round her ripe lip was aye dancing slee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light was the footfa', and winsome the wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' the flower o' the parochin, our ain Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the bairns she would rin, and the school laddies paik,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er the broomy braes like a fairy would flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till auld hearts grew young again wi' love for her sake—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was life in the blithe blink o' bonnie Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She grat wi' the waefu', and laughed wi' the glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And light as the wind 'mang the dancers was she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a tongue that could jeer, too, the little limmer had,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk keepit aye her ain side for bonnie Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She could sing like the lintwhite that sports 'mang the whins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sweet was her note as the bloom to the bee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It has aft thrilled my heart whaur our wee burnie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where a' thing grew fairer wi' bonnie Bessie Lee.<a name="vol4FNanchor_27_27" id="vol4FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she whiles had a sweetheart, and sometimes had twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A limmer o' a lassie; but atween you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her warm wee bit heartie she ne'er threw awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though mony a ane had sought it frae bonnie Bessie Lee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_234" id="vol4Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But ten years had gane since I gazed on her last—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ten years had parted my auld hame and me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I said to mysel', as her mither's door I passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will I ever get anither kiss frae bonnie Bessie Lee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Time changes a' thing—the ill-natured loon!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were it ever sae rightly, he 'll no let it be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I rubbit at my e'en, and I thought I would swoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How the carle had come roun' about our ain Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee laughing lassie was a gudewife grown auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twa weans at her apron, and ane on her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was douce too, and wise-like—and wisdom's sae cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would rather hae the ither ane than this Bessie Lee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_235" id="vol4Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING" id="vol4ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING"></a>ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_236" id="vol4Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS" id="vol4THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS"></a>THE WILD-ROSE BLOOMS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Caledonia."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild-rose blooms in Drummond woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trees are blossom'd fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake is smiling to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Mary wand'ring there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The powers that watch'd o'er Mary's birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did nature's charms despoil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stole for her the rose's blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet lake's dimpled smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily for her breast they took,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nut-brown her locks appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when they came to make her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They robb'd the starry sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cruel sure was their design,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mad-like their device—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For while they filled her eyes with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They made her heart of ice.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_237" id="vol4Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28" id="vol4ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28"></a>ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE.<a name="vol4FNanchor_28_28" id="vol4FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></h2> + +<p>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 <i>Illustrated London News</i> representations of +remarkable events as they occurred in the Scottish<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_238" id="vol4Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Father of blissfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grant me a resting-place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my sad spirit is longing for rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lord, I beseech Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deign Thou to teach me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which path to heaven is surest and best:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lonely and dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laden and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! for a home in the land of the blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Father of holiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look on my lowliness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this sad bondage, O Lord, set me free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grant that, 'mid love and peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorrow and sin may cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in the Saviour my trust it shall be.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Death's sleep comes o'er me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On waking—before me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portals of glory all open I 'll see.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_239" id="vol4Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE" id="vol4THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE"></a>THE WELLS O' WEARIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie House o' Airlie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak's her look young and cheerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nought in the world to fear ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the sun winna blink in thy bonnie blue e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I 'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At your form in the water sae clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the fairy will change you into a wee, wee flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you 'll grow by the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen as I wander'd there a' alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I felt unco douf and drearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wanting my Mary, a' around me was but pain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_240" id="vol4Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let fortune or fame their minions deceive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let fate look gruesome and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we meet by the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then gang wi' me, my bonnie Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae danger will daur to come near ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_241" id="vol4Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALEXANDER_LAING" id="vol4ALEXANDER_LAING"></a>ALEXANDER LAING.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_242" id="vol4Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_243" id="vol4Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4AE_HAPPY_HOUR" id="vol4AE_HAPPY_HOUR"></a>AE HAPPY HOUR.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Cock Laird."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dark gray o' gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lone leafy shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coo o' the cushat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scent o' the haw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brae o' the burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' bloomin' in flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' twa' faithfu' lovers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make ae happy hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A kind winsome wifie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A clean canty hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' smilin' sweet babies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lisp the dear name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' plenty o' labour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' health to endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make time to row round aye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ae happy hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye lost to affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom avarice can move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo an' to marry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' thing but love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa' wi' your sorrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awa' wi' your store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye ken na the pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' ae happy hour.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_244" id="vol4Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME" id="vol4LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME"></a>LASS, GIN YE WAD LO'E ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lass, gin I come near you."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye'se be ladye o' my ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A canty but, a cosie ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weel plenish'd ye may trow me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brisk, a blithe, a kind gudeman—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Walth, there 's little doubt ye ha'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bidin' bein an' easy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brisk an' blithe ye canna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' you sae auld an' crazy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad marriage mak' you young again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wad woman's love renew you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa', ye silly doitet man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I canna, winna lo'e you!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Witless hizzie, e'en 's you like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ne'er a doit I 'm carin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But men maun be the first to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wanters maun be speerin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lassie, I ha'e lo'ed you lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' now I'm come to woo you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm no sae auld as clashes gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think you 'd better lo'e me."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_245" id="vol4Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Doitet bodie! auld or young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye needna langer tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ane be loutin' o'er a rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's no for me to marry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae hame an' ance bethink yoursel'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How ye wad come to woo me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mind me i' your latter-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bodie, gin ye lo'e me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LASS_OF_LOGIE" id="vol4LASS_OF_LOGIE"></a>LASS OF LOGIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lass of Arranteenie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've seen the smiling summer flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the braes of Yarrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've heard the raving winter wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills of Barra;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd Scotland o'er and o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Teviot to Strathbogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the bonniest lass that I ha'e seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is bonnie Jean of Logie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lips were like the heather bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In meekest dewy morning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks were like the ruddy leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bloomy brier adorning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brow was like the milky flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blossoms in the bogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love was laughing in her een—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said, "My lassie, come wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hand, my hame are ready;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_246" id="vol4Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e a lairdship of my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye shall be my ladye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've ilka thing baith out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make you blithe and vogie;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hung her head and sweetly smiled—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But she has smiled, and fate has frown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wrung my heart with sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie lass sae dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never be my marrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, ah! she loves another lad—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ploughman wi' his cogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet happy, happy may she be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MY_AIN_WIFE" id="vol4MY_AIN_WIFE"></a>MY AIN WIFE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"John Anderson, my Jo."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, Oh! my dainty ain wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's aye sae dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnier yet I 've never seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A better canna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though beauty is a fadin' flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fadin' as it 's fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It looks fu' well in ony wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mine has a' her share.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_247" id="vol4Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's bonnie aye to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, couthy is my ingle-cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' cheery is my Jean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never see her angry look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor hear her word on ane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's gude wi' a' the neebours roun',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' aye gude wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Oh, her looks sae kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They melt my heart outright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ower the baby at her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She hangs wi' fond delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looks intill its bonnie face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' syne looks to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE" id="vol4THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE"></a>THE MAID O' MONTROSE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O tell me the Way for to Woo."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O sweet is the calm dewy gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When saftly by Rossie-wood brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The merle an' mavis are hymning<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The e'en o' the lang summer's day!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_248" id="vol4Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweet are the moments when o'er the blue ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The full moon arising in majesty glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I, breathing o'er ilka tender emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The fopling sae fine an' sae airy,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sae fondly in love wi' himsel',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is proud wi' his ilka new dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To shine at the fair an' the ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gie me the grove where the broom's yellow blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waves o'er the white lily an' red smiling rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ae bonnie lassie to lean on my bosom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O what is the haill warld's treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gane nane o' its pleasures we prove?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' where can we taste o' true pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gin no wi' the lassie we love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet are the smiles an' the dimples o' beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lurking the loves an' the graces repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweet is the form an' the air o' the pretty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter is Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though few are sae bonnie as thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though handsome as woman can be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose bloom is gane when the chill autumn's low'ring;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The aik's stately form when the wild winter blows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the charms o' the mind are the ties mair enduring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These bind me to Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_249" id="vol4Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN" id="vol4JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN"></a>JEAN OF ABERDEEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On stately Dee's wild woody knowes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the op'ning lily fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In streamy Don's gay broomy howes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ilka bonnie flower that grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang their banks and braes sae green—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These borrow a' their finest hues<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the dew-ey'd bloomy haw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When morning gilds the welkin high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 've heard the breeze o' summer blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When e'ening steals alang the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brighter far is Jeanie's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we 're amang the braes alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' softer is the bosom-sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I had a' the valleys gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the airy Bennochie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the lofty hills o' Dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Mem'ry lifts her melting ee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Hope unfolds her fairy scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart wi' them I'd freely gie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_250" id="vol4Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_HOPELESS_EXILE" id="vol4THE_HOPELESS_EXILE"></a>THE HOPELESS EXILE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Alas! for Poor Teddy Macshane."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! where has the exile his home?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! where has the exile his home?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the mountain is steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the valley is deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the waves of the Ohio foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where no cheering smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His woes may beguile—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! there has the exile his home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! when will the exile return?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! when will the exile return?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our hearts heave no sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our tears shall be dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Erin no longer shall mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his name we disown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his mem'ry is gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then will the exile return!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4GLEN-NA-HALBYN29" id="vol4GLEN-NA-HALBYN29"></a>GLEN-NA-H'ALBYN.<a name="vol4FNanchor_29_29" id="vol4FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O rest thee, my Darling."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boat 's on the shallow, the ship on the lake;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_251" id="vol4Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! now in a moment my country I leave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next I am far away—far on the wave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to build up his House was the aim of my life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now in his greatness he turns me away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my strength is decay'd and my locks worn gray.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Oh! fare thee well!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the gray stones of my ancestors' graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go to my place 'neath the foam of the waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where none of my fathers were gathered before!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_252" id="vol4Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ALEXANDER_CARLILE" id="vol4ALEXANDER_CARLILE"></a>ALEXANDER CARLILE.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_253" id="vol4Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30" id="vol4WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30"></a>WHA'S AT THE WINDOW?<a name="vol4FNanchor_30_30" id="vol4FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wha but blithe Jamie Glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He 's come sax miles and ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa, awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has plighted his troth, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leal love to gi'e, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sae has she dune,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By a' that 's abune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a', 'bune a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bridal-maidens are braw, braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bridal-maidens are braw, braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But the bride's modest e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And warm cheek are to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's quaffing and laughing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's dancing and daffing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bride's father 's blithest of a', of a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride's father 's blithest of a'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_254" id="vol4Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That my heart is sae eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When a' the lave 's cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it 's just that she 'll aye be awa, awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's just that she 'll aye be awa.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES" id="vol4MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES"></a>MY BROTHERS ARE THE STATELY TREES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My brothers are the stately trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in the forests grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simple flowers my sisters are,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That on the green bank blow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them, with them, I am a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The daisy, with its tear of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gay greets me as I stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet a voice of welcome comes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From every trembling spray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How light, how bright, the golden-wing'd hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spend among those songs and flowers!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the Spirit of the Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His varied tones I know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His voice of soothing majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love and sobbing woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er his varied theme may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his my spirit mingles free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love to tread the grass-green path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far up the winding stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there in nature's loneliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day is one bright dream.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_255" id="vol4Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And still the pilgrim waters tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wanderings wild by wood and dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or up the mountain's brow I toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath a wid'ning sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crowding the wondering eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, then, my soul on eagle's wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cloudless regions upwards springs!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars—the stars! I know each one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all its soul of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They beckon me to come and live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their tearless homes above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN" id="vol4THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN"></a>THE VALE OF KILLEAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid Scotia's dark mountains—the Vale of Killean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_256" id="vol4Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How solemn the broad hills that curtain around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sanctuary of nature, 'mid a wilderness found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose echoes low whisper, "Bid the world farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then build me a cot by that lake's verdant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the world's wild turmoil I 'll mingle no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man's crimes and his follies, no more shall I hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Morn, as on tiptoe he ushers the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soul her own meekness—a rich glow to the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the mist from the mountain to blend with the skies.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_257" id="vol4Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_NEVAY" id="vol4JOHN_NEVAY"></a>JOHN NEVAY.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_258" id="vol4Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> pamphlet form, in 1855. He has repeatedly +written prose tales for the periodicals, and has contributed verses to +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> and the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_259" id="vol4Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER" id="vol4THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER"></a>THE EMIGRANT'S LOVE-LETTER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A century to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy voice's melodie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mony hardships I ha'e tholed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' I left Larocklea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I maun na tell, for it would bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The saut tear in thine e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I ha'e news, an' happy news,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell unto my love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I ha'e won, to me mair dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That it my heart can prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its thochts unchanged, still it is true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' surely sae is thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou never, never canst forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That twa waur ane langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The simmer sun blinks on the tarn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' on the primrose brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we, in days o' innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waur wont to daff an' play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I amang the mossy springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wade for the hinny blooms—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee the rush tiara wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bedeck'd wi' lily plumes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When on the ferny knowe we sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A happy, happy pair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy comely cheek laid on my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I plaited thy gowden hair.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_260" id="vol4Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then I felt the holiest thocht<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That e'er enter'd my mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It, Mary, was to be to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever true an' kind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair the flowers that bloom around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dwallin' owre the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bricht the streams, an' green the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They are na <i>sae</i> to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the bulbul's mellow leed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upo' the gorgeous paum—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet cheep o' the feather'd bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the fields o' baum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there are nae auld Scotland's burds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae dear to childhood's days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laverock, lintie, shulf, an' yyoite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That taught us luve's sweet lays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin' thou e'er wauk'st alane to think<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On him that's owre the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their cheerfu' saft luve-lilts will tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart's luve-thochts to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lat joy be in thy leal, true heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bricht smile in thine e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie bark is in the bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm coming hame to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm coming hame to thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' mony a pearl fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I will lay them in thy lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the kiss o' sweet langsyne.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_261" id="vol4Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4THOMAS_LYLE" id="vol4THOMAS_LYLE"></a>THOMAS LYLE.</h2> + +<p>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.<a name="vol4FNanchor_31_31" id="vol4FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> 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;<a name="vol4FNanchor_32_32" id="vol4FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> and in consequence, he was +led to compose for his favourite tune<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_262" id="vol4Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> 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;<a name="vol4FNanchor_33_33" id="vol4FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_263" id="vol4Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> "Miscellaneous Poems, by Sir +William Mure, Knight of Rowallan," together with several songs of +various merit by the editor.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_264" id="vol4Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4KELVIN_GROVE" id="vol4KELVIN_GROVE"></a>KELVIN GROVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the rose in all her pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Paints the hollow dingle side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the glens rebound the call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the roaring water's fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the mountains rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There the May pink's crimson plume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throws a soft but sweet perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the smile of fortune 's thine, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet with fortune on my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could stay thy father's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere yon golden orb of day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wake the warblers on the spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_265" id="vol4Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the river winding clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the fragrant-scented breer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy lover on his bier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_TRYSTING_HOUR" id="vol4THE_TRYSTING_HOUR"></a>THE TRYSTING HOUR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night-wind's Eolian breezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chase melody over the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Float rosy the woodlands above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tarry no longer, my true love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars hang their lamps in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When each bloom has a tear in its eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So stilly the evening is closing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eolian whispers reposing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe softly, I hear my love call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, the light fairy step of my true love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The night breeze is wafting to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over heathbell and violet blue, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perfuming the shadowy lea.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_266" id="vol4Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4HARVEST_SONG34" id="vol4HARVEST_SONG34"></a>HARVEST SONG.<a name="vol4FNanchor_34_34" id="vol4FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harvest morning breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathing balm, and the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the mist in rosy streaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gilds the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fairy troops descend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the rolling clouds that bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the forest as they wend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast away, when the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chases cloudy wreaths away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harvest breezes swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the song pours along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the reapers in the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joyous throng!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tiny gleaners come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picking up their harvest home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they o'er the stubble roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dancing here, sporting there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the balmy sunny air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is full of song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harvest evening falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While each flower round the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing odour, now recalls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lover's hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon enthroned in blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights the rippling lake anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wailing owls' whoo! whoo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the glen again, again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakes the stillness of the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On my adieu.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_267" id="vol4Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JAMES_HOME" id="vol4JAMES_HOME"></a>JAMES HOME.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_268" id="vol4Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4MARY_STEEL" id="vol4MARY_STEEL"></a>MARY STEEL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the lark begins to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are welcoming the spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the merle and the blackbird build their nest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bushy forest tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' things under the sky seem blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the simmer spreads her flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lily blooms and the ivy twines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In beauty round the bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the cushat coos in the leafy wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lambs sport o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every heart 's in its happiest mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When har'st blithe days begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foremost rig to win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where light-hair'd lasses be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a tale o' love is tauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the winter winds rave high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tempest wild is pourin' doun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae the dark and troubled sky:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_269" id="vol4Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When a hopeless wail is heard on land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shrieks frae the roaring sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wreck o' nature seems at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN" id="vol4OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN"></a>OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hours we have spent together?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine on as brightly as ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So fraught with the heart's full feeling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we clung to each other in the last embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul of love revealing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the farewell word was spoken?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vow and the promise broken?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though other arms caress thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a smoother tongue should bless thee:—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_270" id="vol4Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet never again on thy warm young cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will breathe a soul more warm than mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never again will a lover speak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love more pure to thine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART" id="vol4THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART"></a>THE MAID OF MY HEART.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Last Rose of Summer."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only beloved of my bosom is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When around and above us there 's nought to be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all is at rest in the glen and the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT" id="vol4SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT"></a>SONG OF THE EMIGRANT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the land of hills is the land for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the maiden's step is light and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shepherd's pipe, and the hunter's horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake the joys of the rosy morn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_271" id="vol4Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells how the foamy billows break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells of dreary solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, oh! when it comes from the mountain fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Spirit of Song and Freedom dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in youth's warm day I woke that strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er in this world can wake again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The warm blood leaps in its wonted course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh tears gush from their briny source,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if I had hail'd in the passing wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The all I have loved and left behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35" id="vol4THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35"></a>THIS LASSIE O' MINE.<a name="vol4FNanchor_35_35" id="vol4FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Wattie's Ramble."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure naebody e'er was sae happy as me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_272" id="vol4Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she dances sae light on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no the simplicity marked in her mien—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, O! it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That keeps me aye happy as happy can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe out the soul in a saft melting kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When friends circle round, and nought to annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have felt every joy which illumines the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, O! there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's early day, when the bosom is warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When soul meets with soul in a saft melting kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_273" id="vol4Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JAMES_TELFER" id="vol4JAMES_TELFER"></a>JAMES TELFER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36" id="vol4OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36"></a>OH, WILL YE WALK THE WOOD WI' ME?<a name="vol4FNanchor_36_36" id="vol4FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, will ye walk the green?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_274" id="vol4Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or will ye sit within mine arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain kind Jean?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It 's I 'll not walk the wood wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet will I the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as for sitting in your arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's what I dinna mean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! slighted love is ill to thole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weel may I compleen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since that better mayna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I e'en maun thol 't for Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gang up to May o' Mistycleugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye saw her late yestreen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye'll find in her a lightsome love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye winna find in Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wi' bonny May o' Mistycleugh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I carena to be seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lightsome love I'd freely gie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For half a blink frae Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gang down to Madge o' Miryfaulds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ken for her ye green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' her ye 'll get a purse o' gowd—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll naething get wi' Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For doity Madge o' Miryfaulds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dinna care a preen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purse o' gowd I weel could want,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I could hae my Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, yes! I 'll walk the wood wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, yes! I 'll walk the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first ye 'll meet me at the kirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak' me aye your Jean."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_275" id="vol4Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA" id="vol4I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA"></a>I MAUN GAE OVER THE SEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet summer now is by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cauld winter is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wan leaves they fa' frae the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills are white wi' snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the frosty winds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I maun gie over the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I maun gie over the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But winter will gang by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer come wi' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Nature again will be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wooers you will find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mair ye 'll never mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laddie that 's over the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laddie that 's over the sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, Willie, since it 's sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is very wae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave a' my friends and countrie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wi' thee I will gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the way it be lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The way is vera far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And terrible is war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And great are the hardships to dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I should be slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a prisoner ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My jewel, what would come o' thee, Mary?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My jewel, what would come o' thee?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_276" id="vol4Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sae at hame ye maun bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should it sae betide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a bride to another ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ane that lo'ed ye dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll whiles drap a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll aften do the same for thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll aften do the same for thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rowan tear down fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom wasna well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she sabbit most wofullie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oure the yirth I wad gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never count it lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I fear ye carena for me, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I fear ye carena for me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae langer could he thole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tore his vera soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He dighted her bonnie blue e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, what was it you said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh my ain loving maid?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never love a woman but thee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fae is forced to yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freedom has the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Away I will ne'er gang frae thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only death shall us part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep sic thoughts frae my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never shall part us the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never shall part us the sea."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_277" id="vol4Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_278" id="vol4Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_279" id="vol4Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4EVAN_MACLACHLAN" id="vol4EVAN_MACLACHLAN"></a>EVAN MACLACHLAN.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_280" id="vol4Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_281" id="vol4Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4A_MELODY_OF_LOVE" id="vol4A_MELODY_OF_LOVE"></a>A MELODY OF LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The locks of my fair one redundantly flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they glitter with dew on the morning of May.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_282" id="vol4Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN" id="vol4THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN"></a>THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's<a name="vol4FNanchor_37_37" id="vol4FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> silver stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_283" id="vol4Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the glades of Cluaran<a name="vol4FNanchor_38_38" id="vol4FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> must imp my wings and fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_284" id="vol4Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_285" id="vol4Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_286" id="vol4Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4THE_THREE_BARDS_OF_COWAL39" id="vol4THE_THREE_BARDS_OF_COWAL39"></a>THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.<a name="vol4FNanchor_39_39" id="vol4FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4JOHN_BROWN" id="vol4JOHN_BROWN"></a>JOHN BROWN.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_287" id="vol4Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY" id="vol4THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY"></a>THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars were attired in the glory of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hope of the lover was shining as day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away she has gone at the touch of the helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, would that his strength as his purpose was true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the <i>Brunach</i><a name="vol4FNanchor_40_40" id="vol4FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> would joy, in the succour they gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win him a bride, or to win him a grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the flush of my health and my penniless youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister is salving a sister's annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_288" id="vol4Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bride worth the princesses England is rearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in friendship or charity never beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is mine—to Dunduala<a name="vol4FNanchor_41_41" id="vol4FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> that traces her stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Donald<a name="vol4FNanchor_42_42" id="vol4FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> the gracious be head of her line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And "our exiled and dear"<a name="vol4FNanchor_43_43" id="vol4FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> in her pedigree shine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then hearken, ye men of the country I love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_289" id="vol4Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4CHARLES_STEWART_DD" id="vol4CHARLES_STEWART_DD"></a>CHARLES STEWART, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_290" id="vol4Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL" id="vol4LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL"></a>LUINEAG—A LOVE CAROL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No homeward scene near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No comrade to cheer me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cling to my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sigh till I marry.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing ever O, and ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing ever O, and ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Was ever a May like my fairy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My youth with the stranger,<a name="vol4FNanchor_44_44" id="vol4FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next on mountains a ranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pass'd—but no change, here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will sever from Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ringlets discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gloss thy brows over—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget thee! thy lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, first shall they bury.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy aspect of kindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy graces they bind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like Feili,<a name="vol4FNanchor_45_45" id="vol4FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> remind us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a heaven undreary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than the treasures of Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would toil more to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love—but my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_291" id="vol4Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the shell is o'erflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its dew-drops are glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, never, thy snow on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A slander shall tarry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When viols are playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dancers are Maying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes may be straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my soul is with Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That white hand of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might I take into mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I ever repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or from tenderness vary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, never! no, never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My troth on 't for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lip to lip, I 'd deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My being to Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_292" id="vol4Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4ANGUS_FLETCHER" id="vol4ANGUS_FLETCHER"></a>ANGUS FLETCHER.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Weekly Journal</i> 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.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL" id="vol4THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL"></a>THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thy wily eyes, my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy graces bright, my jewel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have grieved me since our parting<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the kirk of Glendaruel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas to the Kirkton wending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright eyes encounter'd duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mavis' notes were blending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the rosy cheeks of beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her arms, her instep queenly;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_293" id="vol4Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And her sweet parting lips are graced<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rows of ivory inly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When busy tongues are railing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lown is her word unsaucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with modest grace unfailing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She trips it o'er the causey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should royalty prefer me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Preferment none I crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to live a shepherd near thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the howes of Corrichnaive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would fortune crown my wishes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shealing of the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my darling, and the rushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To couch on, were my will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear, but not instruction,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though faithful lips are pleading—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read thy eyes' perfection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On their dew of mildness feeding.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hand is swiftly scrolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the courts of reverend men;<a name="vol4FNanchor_46_46" id="vol4FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! my restless soul in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is triumphing my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear, I fear their frowning—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But though they chased me over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Holland's flats<a name="vol4FNanchor_47_47" id="vol4FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#vol4Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> are drowning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll live and die thy lover.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_294" id="vol4Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="vol4THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN" id="vol4THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN"></a>THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'>Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By a burnie's dimplit linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I told my love with artless blushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the lassie o' the glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh! the birken bank sae grassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Living in yon rashy glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be aye my fav'rite theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on thy banks my Highland lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First confess'd a mutual flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some sweet wee bow'ry den!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fondly stray amang the rashes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the lassie o' the glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though I wander now unhappy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far frae scenes we haunted then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the lassie o' the glen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_295" id="vol4Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol4GLOSSARY" id="vol4GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + +<p><i>Aboon</i>, above.</p> + +<p><i>Aumry</i>, a store-place.</p> + +<p><i>Baum</i>, balm.</p> + +<p><i>Beuk</i>, book.</p> + +<p><i>Bicker</i>, a drinking vessel.</p> + +<p><i>Burnie</i>, a small stream.</p> + +<p><i>Caller</i>, cool.</p> + +<p><i>Cled</i>, clad.</p> + +<p><i>Clud</i>, cloud.</p> + +<p><i>Couthy</i>, frank.</p> + +<p><i>Daffin'</i>, merry-making.</p> + +<p><i>Dighted</i>, wiped.</p> + +<p><i>Doit</i>, a small coin.</p> + +<p><i>Doitet</i>, dotard.</p> + +<p><i>Douf</i>, sad.</p> + +<p><i>Dree</i>, endure.</p> + +<p><i>Dwine</i>, dwindle.</p> + +<p><i>Fauld</i>, fold.</p> + +<p><i>Fleechit</i>, cajoled.</p> + +<p><i>Fykes</i>, troubles, anxieties.</p> + +<p><i>Gaed</i>, went.</p> + +<p><i>Gar</i>, compel.</p> + +<p><i>Gate</i>, way.</p> + +<p><i>Glour</i>, look earnestly.</p> + +<p><i>Grannie</i>, grandmother.</p> + +<p><i>Grat</i>, wept.</p> + +<p><i>Grit</i>, great.</p> + +<p><i>Haill</i>, whole.</p> + +<p><i>Haud</i>, hold, keep.</p> + +<p><i>Heuk</i>, reaping-hook.</p> + +<p><i>Hie</i>, high.</p> + +<p><i>Hinny</i>, honey.</p> + +<p><i>Hizzie</i>, <i>Hussy</i>, a thoughtless girl.</p> + +<p><i>Ken</i>, know.</p> + +<p><i>Knows</i>, knolls, hillocks.</p> + +<p><i>Laith</i>, loth.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, firmament.</p> + +<p><i>Lowin'</i>, burning.</p> + +<p><i>Minnie</i>, mother.</p> + +<p><i>Parochin'</i>, parish.</p> + +<p><i>Pu'</i>, pull.</p> + +<p><i>Roos'd</i>, praised.</p> + +<p><i>Sabbit</i>, sobbed.</p> + +<p><i>Scour</i>, search.</p> + +<p><i>Slee</i>, sly.</p> + +<p><i>Speerin'</i>, inquiring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol4Page_296" id="vol4Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Swiggit</i>, swallowed.</p> + +<p><i>Syne</i>, then.</p> + +<p><i>Thole</i>, endure.</p> + +<p><i>Toom</i>, empty.</p> + +<p><i>Troth</i>, truth, vow.</p> + +<p><i>Trow</i>, believe.</p> + +<p><i>Tyne</i>, lose.</p> + +<p><i>Unco</i>, uncommon.</p> + +<p><i>Wag</i>, shake.</p> + +<p><i>Waur</i>, worse.</p> + +<p><i>Ween</i>, guess.</p> + +<p><i>Yirth</i>, earth.</p> + +<p><i>Yowes</i>, ewes.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'>END OF VOL. IV.</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_1_1" id="vol4Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A flock of sheep.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_2_2" id="vol4Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See Minstrel, vol. iii. p. <a href="#vol3Page_186">186</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_3_3" id="vol4Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> "Songs of the Ark, with other Poems." Edin. 1831. 8vo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_4_4" id="vol4Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> "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.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_5_5" id="vol4Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "Poems, Songs, and Miscellaneous Pieces." Edinburgh, 1847, +12mo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_6_6" id="vol4Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_7_7" id="vol4Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This exquisite lay forms a portion of "The Cottagers of +Glendale," Mr Riddell's longest ballad poem.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_8_8" id="vol4Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> This song was composed by Mrs Inglis, in honour of the +Ettrick Shepherd, shortly after the period of his death.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_9_9" id="vol4Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_10_10" id="vol4Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Of this song a new version was composed by Burns, the +original chorus being retained. Burns' version commences—"Hark the +mavis' evening sang."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_11_11" id="vol4Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> 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. <a href="#vol3Page_233">233</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_12_12" id="vol4Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_13_13" id="vol4Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> 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 <i>crooning</i> 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.:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander birks and braes amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How mony a day, in blithe spring-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How mony a day, in summer's prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wil'd awa' my careless time<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the heights o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walth is won wi' grief and strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When baith our hearts were young and licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' speeches fond and free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +"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 <i>in the first part</i>. The second part of the air +is, I think, modern." The Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, +in Aberdeenshire.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_14_14" id="vol4Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_15_15" id="vol4Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> 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:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In southern climes the radiant sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A brighter light displays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I love best his milder beams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shine on Scotland's braes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then dear, romantic native land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er I roam from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_16_16" id="vol4Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_17_17" id="vol4Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert +Chambers for many of the particulars contained in this memoir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_18_18" id="vol4Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Printed from the author's MS., in the possession of Mr H. +S. Riddell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_19_19" id="vol4Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Printed for the first time from the original MS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_20_20" id="vol4Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_21_21" id="vol4Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_22_22" id="vol4Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Printed, for the first time, from the author's MS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_23_23" id="vol4Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_24_24" id="vol4Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_25_25" id="vol4Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Admiral Sir Charles Napier.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_26_26" id="vol4Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> 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 <i>Chambers' +Edinburgh Journal</i>. "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 <i>Dumfries Standard</i> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_27_27" id="vol4Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_28_28" id="vol4Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> We are indebted to Mr James Ballantine, of Edinburgh, for +the particulars contained in this memoir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_29_29" id="vol4Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> "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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_30_30" id="vol4Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> 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."—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_31_31" id="vol4Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The former words to this air commenced, "Oh, the +shearing's no for you, bonnie lassie, O!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_32_32" id="vol4Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_33_33" id="vol4Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> See vol. iii., p. <a href="#vol3Page_226">226</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_34_34" id="vol4Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Contributed by Mr Lyle to the present work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_35_35" id="vol4Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> This song was formerly introduced in this work (vol. ii. +p. <a href="#vol2Page_70">70</a>) 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 <i>Noctes Bengerianæ</i>, 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!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_36_36" id="vol4Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Portions of the first and second verses of this song are +fragments of an older ditty.—<i>Note by the Author.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_37_37" id="vol4Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> The stream that flows through Glen Pean.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_38_38" id="vol4Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained +for many years of his tutor life.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_39_39" id="vol4Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith +of Clyde, and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_40_40" id="vol4Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Brunach—The Brown, viz., the poet himself.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_41_41" id="vol4Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> The Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the +Scoto-Irish kings who reigned in Dunstaffnage.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_42_42" id="vol4Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_43_43" id="vol4Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Prince Charles Edward.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_44_44" id="vol4Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_45_45" id="vol4Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Festivals, saint-days.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_46_46" id="vol4Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and +clerk-depute of presbytery.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol4Footnote_47_47" id="vol4Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#vol4FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the +Duke of York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword.</p></div> + +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_v_title.jpg" width="600" height="995" alt="THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. V. + +Alexdr. Maclagan. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_v_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="920" alt="Ever faithfully yours, + +F. Bennoch." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. V.</p> + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH:<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI.</p> + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 50%;">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +ALEXANDER BAILLIE COCHRANE,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">ESQ. OF LAMINGTON.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I inscribe to you the present volume of "<span class="smcap">The Modern Scottish Minstrel</span>," +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.</p> + +<p> +I have the honour to be,<br /> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;">Sir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Your very obedient, humble servant,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">CHARLES ROGERS.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i><span class="smcap">Stirling</span>, June 1857.</i><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_v" id="vol5Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5SCOTTISH_LYRICS_AND_SCOTTISH_LIFE" id="vol5SCOTTISH_LYRICS_AND_SCOTTISH_LIFE"></a>SCOTTISH LYRICS AND SCOTTISH LIFE.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap" style="font-size: 75%;">By JAMES DODDS.</span></h2> + +<p>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 <i>lyrics</i>, 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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now 'twas like all instruments,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now like a lonely flute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now it is an angel's song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That makes the heavens be mute."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_vi" id="vol5Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>—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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! that I came o'er the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left my love behind me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Only one verse has floated down of an old song, which breathes the very +soul of a lover's restless longings:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Aye wakin', O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakin' aye an' eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep I canna get<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thinkin' on my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye wakin', O!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Within my garden gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose and lily grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the pride of my garden is wither'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And it 's a' grown o'er wi' rue.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_vii" id="vol5Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Farewell, ye fading flowers!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And farewell, bonnie Jean!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the flower that is now trodden under foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In time it may bloom again."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I wish my love were in a mire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I might pull her out again;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>or to know something more of the details of that extraordinary parish, +of which one surviving verse draws the following sombre picture:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! what a parish!—eh! what a parish!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! what a parish is that o' Dunkel':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 've hang'd the minister, droon'd the precentor;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They 've pu'd doon the steeple, and drunk the kirk-bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Scottish lyrics, lying all about, thus countless and scattered—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Vallambrosa"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_viii" id="vol5Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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-<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_ix" id="vol5Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>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 <i>Minstrel</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But Minstrel Burn cannot assuage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His grief while life endureth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the changes of this age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fleeting time procureth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many a place stands in hard case,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where blythe folk kenn'd nae sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Homes that dwelt on Leader-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotts that dwelt on Yarrow."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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, <i>leading a cow by a straw-rope</i>." +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.</p> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_x" id="vol5Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> 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, <i>sober +happiness</i>. 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They kept the noiseless tenor of their way."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Our Scottish race have been—yes, and notwithstanding modern changes, +still are—a joyous people—a people full of what I shall term <i>a lyric +joyousness</i>. 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The <i>pleasant men of Tiviotdale</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast by the river Tweed."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xi" id="vol5Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At Beltane, when ilk body bouns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Peebles to the play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the singin' and the soun's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The solace, sooth to say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By firth and forest forth they wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They graithit them full gay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God wot what they would do that stound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For it was their feast-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">They said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Peebles to the play!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hop, Calye, and Cardronow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gatherit out thick-fald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With, <i>Hey and How and Rumbelow!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young folk were full bald.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bagpipe blew, and they out threw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of the towns untald:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord! sic ane shout was them amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they were owre the wald,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">There west<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Peebles to the play!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xii" id="vol5Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>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 +<i>localise</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xiii" id="vol5Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He was not by birth a <i>Ker</i>—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xiv" id="vol5Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> is still whispered by the peasant with a kind of <i>eeriness</i>, 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,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ken ye the news I hae to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie Laddie, Highland Laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cumberland's awa' to hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie Laddie, Highland Laddie!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>the Duke burst into one of his ringing laughs—the fine, deep <i>Ho, ho!</i> +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-be<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xv" id="vol5Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span>lauded "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 <i>Causés Celebrés</i> 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—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xvi" id="vol5Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> 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 <i>Dux</i>—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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>wisdom</i>—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 ill<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xvii" id="vol5Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span>ness. 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 <i>will</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xviii" id="vol5Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>lyric joyousness</i>, 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In Ida vale, (who knows not Ida vale?)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When harmless Troy yet felt not Grecian spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hundred shepherds wonn'd; and in the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While their fair flocks the three-leaved pastures bite,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xix" id="vol5Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The shepherd boys, with hundred sportings light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gave wings unto the time's too speedy haste."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In our old, picturesque Saxon form of speech, the husband was the +"<i>bread-winner</i>." Duke James was emphatically the "<i>bread-giver</i>." 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 <i>personnel</i>, 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 <i>three hundred people</i>, 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 <i>debouche</i>!—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 <i>Duke</i>!—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xx" id="vol5Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> 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 steam<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxi" id="vol5Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span>ing with perspiration. Eyeing her +curiously for a moment, "Ho, ho!" he cried (his usual introductory +exclamation), "do <i>you</i> 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxii" id="vol5Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It was a merry place in days of yore."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxiii" id="vol5Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span> 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 +<i>Givan's Band</i> 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?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">" ... <i>Deus</i> nobis hæc otia fecit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Namque erit ille mihi semper deus."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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 +<i>hooch</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxiv" id="vol5Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span> 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 <i>hooching</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxv" id="vol5Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxvi" id="vol5Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span> 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 +<i>people</i> 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!"</p> + +<p>One instance is worth a thousand dissertations. And the above thin +water-colour sketch of a <i>real popular life</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxvii" id="vol5Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span></p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"God bless the master of the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mistress also,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the pretty babies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That round the table go;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get up, gudewife! and shake your feathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna think that we are beggars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are bairns come out to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise up and gie 's our Hogmanay!"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxviii" id="vol5Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though none should guide my feeble way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although it chill my wither'd cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still lay my head by Teviot stone!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxix" id="vol5Page_xxix">[Pg xxix]</a></span> 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?</p> + +<p>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 "<i>our own</i>." 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_xxx" id="vol5Page_xxx">[Pg xxx]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5CONTENTS" id="vol5CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5FRANCIS_BENNOCH1">FRANCIS BENNOCH,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_1">1</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5TRUTH_AND_HONOUR">Truth and honour,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_7">7</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5OUR_SHIP">Our ship,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_8">8</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5AULD_PETER_MACGOWAN">Auld Peter Macgowan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_10">10</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5THE_FLOWER_OF_KEIR">The flower of Keir,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_11">11</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5CONSTANCY">Constancy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_12">12</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_WIFIE">My bonnie wee wifie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5THE_BONNIE_BIRD">The bonnie bird,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_14">14</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5COME_WHEN_THE_DAWN">Come when the dawn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_15">15</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5GOOD_MORROW3">Good-morrow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_16">16</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5OH_WAES_MY_LIFE">Oh, wae's my life</a>, <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5HEY_MY_BONNIE_WEE_LASSIE">Hey, my bonnie wee lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_18">18</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5BESSIE">Bessie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5COURTSHIP">Courtship,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_21">21</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5TOGETHER">Together,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5FLORENCE_NIGHTINGALE">Florence Nightingale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_23">23</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5JOSEPH_MACGREGOR">JOSEPH MACGREGOR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5LADDIE_OH_LEAVE_ME">Laddie, oh! leave me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#vol5HOW_BLYTHELY_THE_PIPE">How blythely the pipe,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_26">26</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_DUNBAR_DD">WILLIAM DUNBAR, D.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_28">28</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol5THE_MAID_OF_ISLAY">The maid of Islay,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_29">29</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_JERDAN">WILLIAM JERDAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_30">30</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WEE_BIRDS_SONG6">The wee bird's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_32">32</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WHAT_MAKES_THIS_HOUR">What makes this hour?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_33">33</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_BALD">ALEXANDER BALD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_34">34</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LILY_OF_THE_VALE7">The lily of the vale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HOW_SWEET_ARE_THE_BLUSHES_OF_MORN">How sweet are the blushes of morn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5GEORGE_WILSON">GEORGE WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MILD_AS_THE_MORNING">Mild as the morning,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BEACONS_BLAZED">The beacons blazed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_38">38</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_RENDEZVOUS">The rendezvous,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_40">40</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_YOUNGER">JOHN YOUNGER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_42">42</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_GETS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW">Ilka blade o' grass gets its ain drap o' dew,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_43">43</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MONTH_OF_JUNE">The month of June,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_44">44</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_BURTT">JOHN BURTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_46">46</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OER_THE_MIST-SHROUDED_CLIFFS8">O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5O_LASSIE_I_LOE_DEAREST">O! lassie I lo'e dearest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_JAMES_FINLAYSON">CHARLES JAMES FINLAYSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_49">49</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BARD_STRIKES_HIS_HARP">The bard strikes his harp,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_50">50</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5PHOEBUS_WI_GOWDEN_CREST">Phœbus, wi' gowden crest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_51">51</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_MY_LOVES_BONNIE">Oh, my love 's bonnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_52">52</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_DOBIE">WILLIAM DOBIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_54">54</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_DREARY_REIGN_OF_WINTER_S_PAST">The dreary reign of winter's past,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_55">55</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_HENDRY_MD">ROBERT HENDRY, M.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_57">57</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LET_NA_GANG_YON_BONNIE_LASSIE">Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_58">58</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5HEW_AINSLIE">HEW AINSLIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_60">60</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HAMEWARD_SANG">The hameward sang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_61">61</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5DOWIE_IN_THE_HINT_O_HAIRST">Dowie in the hint o' hairst,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_62">62</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ON_WI_THE_TARTAN">On wi' the tartan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROVER_O_LOCHRYAN">The rover o' Lochryan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_64">64</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LAST_LOOK_O_HAME">The last look o' hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_65">65</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LADS_AN_THE_LAND_FAR_AWA">The lads an' the land far awa',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_66">66</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_BELL">My bonnie wee Bell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_67">67</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_THOMSON">WILLIAM THOMSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAIDEN_TO_HER_REAPING_HOOK">The maiden to her reaping-hook,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_SMART">ALEXANDER SMART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_71">71</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WHEN_THE_BEE_HAS_LEFT_THE_BLOSSOM">When the bee has left the blossom,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_73">73</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LEAVE_ME_NOT">Oh, leave me not,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_74">74</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5NEVER_DESPAIR">Never despair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_75">75</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_DUNLOP">JOHN DUNLOP,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_77">77</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_YEAR_THATS_AWA">The year that 's awa',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_DINNA_ASK_ME">Oh, dinna ask me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LOVE_FLIES_THE_HAUNTS_OF_POMP_AND_POWER9">Love flies the haunts of pomp and power,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_79">79</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WAR">War,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_80">80</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_BLAIR">WILLIAM BLAIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HIGHLAND_MAID">The Highland maid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NEAPOLITAN_WAR_SONG10">The Neapolitan war-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_84">84</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ARCHIBALD_MACKAY">ARCHIBALD MACKAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5OUR_AULD_SCOTS_SANGS">Our auld Scots sangs,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_LADDIE_LIES_LOW">My laddie lies low,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_87">87</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JOUK_AND_LET_THE_JAW_GAE_BY">Jouk and let the jaw gae by,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_88">88</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5VICTORIOUS_BE_AGAIN_BOYS">Victorious be again, boys,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_89">89</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_AIR_FOSTER">WILLIAM AIR FOSTER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTIA">Fareweel to Scotia,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FALCONS_FLIGHT">The falcon's flight,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_92">92</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SALMON_RUN">The salmon run,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_94">94</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_MARSHALL">CHARLES MARSHALL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_97">97</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BLESSING_ON_THE_WARK">The blessing on the wark,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_98">98</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JEWEL_OF_A_LAD">Jewel of a lad,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_99">99</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5TWILIGHT_JOYS">Twilight joys,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_100">100</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_WILSON">WILLIAM WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5O_BLESSING_ON_HER_STARLIKE_EEN">Oh, blessing on her starlike een,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_BLESSING_ON_THEE_LAND">Oh! blessing on thee, land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_104">104</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FAITHLESS">The faithless,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_105">105</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_SOUL_IS_EVER_WITH_THEE">My soul is ever with thee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_106">106</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AULD_JOHNNY_GRAHAM">Auld Johnny Graham,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_107">107</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5JEAN_LINN">Jean Linn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_108">108</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_MARY">Bonnie Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_109">109</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_MARY_MACARTHUR">MRS MARY MACARTHUR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MISSIONARY">The missionary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_RAMSAY">JOHN RAMSAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5FAREWELL_TO_CRAUFURDLAND">Farewell to Craufurdland,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_PARKER">JAMES PARKER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MARINERS_SONG">The mariner's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HER_LIP_IS_O_THE_ROSES_HUE">Her lip is o' the rose's hue,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_117">117</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_HUNTER">JOHN HUNTER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BOWER_O_CLYDE">The bower o' Clyde,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_122">122</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5IN_DISTANT_YEARS">In distant years,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_123">123</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_CHAMBERS">ROBERT CHAMBERS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_124">124</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5YOUNG_RANDAL">Young Randal,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_126">126</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_LADYE_THAT_I_LOVE">The ladye that I love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_127">127</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THOU_GENTLE_AND_KIND_ONE">Thou gentle and kind one,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_128">128</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LAMENT_FOR_THE_OLD_HIGHLAND_WARRIORS">Lament for the old Highland warriors,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_129">129</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_AIRD">THOMAS AIRD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_131">131</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SWALLOW">The swallow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_132">132</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5GENIUS">Genius,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_133">133</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ROBERT_WHITE">ROBERT WHITE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_136">136</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_NATIVE_LAND">My native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_137">137</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5A_SHEPHERDS_LIFE">A shepherd's life,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_138">138</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HER_I_LOVE_BEST">Her I love best,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_140">140</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_KNIGHTS_RETURN">The knight's return,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_141">141</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BONNIE_REDESDALE_LASSIE">The bonnie Redesdale lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_143">143</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MOUNTAINEERS_DEATH">The mountaineer's death,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_144">144</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_CAMERON">WILLIAM CAMERON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5SWEET_JESSIE_O_THE_DELL">Sweet Jessie o' the dell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MEET_ME_ON_THE_GOWAN_LEA">Meet me on the gowan lea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_147">147</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MORAGS_FAIRY_GLEN">Morag's fairy glen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_148">148</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_DINNA_CROSS_THE_BURN_WILLIE">Oh! dinna cross the burn, Willie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_150">150</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_TAIT">ALEXANDER TAIT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5EENINGS_DEWY_HOUR">E'ening's dewy hour,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5CHARLES_FLEMING">CHARLES FLEMING,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WATTY_MNEIL">Watty M'Neil,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_FERGUSON">WILLIAM FERGUSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5I_LL_TEND_THY_BOWER_MY_BONNIE_MAY">I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WOOING_SONG">Wooing song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_156">156</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_WANDERING_WIDE">I'm wandering wide,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_158">158</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_DICK">THOMAS DICK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5HOW_EARLY_I_WOOD_THEE">How early I woo'd thee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5HUGH_MILLER">HUGH MILLER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_161">161</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5SISTER_JEANIE_HASTE_WE_LL_GO11">Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_166">166</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_SOFTLY_SIGHS_THE_WESTLIN_BREEZE">Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_167">167</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_MACANSH">ALEXANDER MACANSH,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_171">171</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MOTHER_AND_CHILD">The mother and child,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_172">172</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CHANGE">Change,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_173">173</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_TOMB_OF_THE_BRUCE">The tomb of the Bruce,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_174">174</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_PRINGLE">JAMES PRINGLE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PLOUGHMAN">The ploughman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_ANDERSON">WILLIAM ANDERSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_178">178</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5WOODLAND_SONG">Woodland song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_180">180</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WELLS_O_WEARY">The wells o' Weary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_181">181</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_NAEBODY_NOO">I'm naebody noo,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_182">182</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_CANNA_SLEEP">I canna sleep,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_183">183</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_M_HETHERINGTON_DD_LLD">WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_185">185</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"><li><a href="#vol5TIS_SWEET_WI_BLITHESOME_HEART_TO_STRAY">'Tis sweet wi' blythesome heart to stray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_186">186</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5O_SWEET_IS_THE_BLOSSOM">Oh, sweet is the blossom,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_187">187</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_WATSON">THOMAS WATSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SQUIRE_O_LOW_DEGREE">The squire o' low degree,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_MACDONALD">JAMES MACDONALD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_192">192</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_AGGIE_LANG">Bonnie Aggie Lang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_193">193</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PRIDE_O_THE_GLEN">The pride o' the glen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_194">194</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY_2">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_196">196</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_BALLANTINE">JAMES BALLANTINE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_198">198</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5NAEBODYS_BAIRN">Naebody's bairn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR">Castles in the air,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_201">201</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_KEPS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW">Ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_202">202</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WIFIE_COME_HAME">Wifie, come hame,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_203">203</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BIRDIE_SURE_TO_SING_IS_AYE_THE_GORBEL_O_THE_NEST">The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_204">204</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5CREEP_AFORE_YE_GANG">Creep afore ye gang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AE_GUDE_TURN_DESERVES_ANITHER">Ae guid turn deserves anither,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NAMELESS_LASSIE">The nameless lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_206">206</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5BONNIE_BONALY">Bonnie Bonaly,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5SAFT_IS_THE_BLINK_O_THINE_EE_LASSIE">Saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_208">208</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAIR_THAT_YE_WORK_AYE_THE_MAIR_WILL_YE_WIN">The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_209">209</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WIDOW">The widow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_209">209</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_ELIZA_A_H_OGILVY">MISS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_211">211</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5CRAIG_ELACHIE">Craig Elachie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_212">212</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_FINLAY">JOHN FINLAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_215">215</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_NOBLE_SCOTTISH_GAME">The noble Scottish game,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_216">216</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MERRY_BOWLING-GREEN">The merry bowling-green,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_218">218</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5THOMAS_TOD_STODDART">THOMAS TOD STODDART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_220">220</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5ANGLING_SONG">Angling song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_221">221</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LET_ITHER_ANGLERS">Let ither anglers,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_222">222</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BRITISH_OAK">The British oak,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_223">223</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5PEACE_IN_WAR">Peace in war,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_224">224</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_MACLAGAN12">ALEXANDER MACLAGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_226">226</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5CURLING_SONG">Curling song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_229">229</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_AULD_MEAL_MILL">The auld meal mill,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_230">230</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_THISTLE">The thistle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_232">232</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SCOTCH_BLUE_BELL">The Scotch blue bell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_233">233</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROCKIN">The rockin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_235">235</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_WIDOW_2">The widow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_237">237</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_HIGHLAND_PLAID">The Highland plaid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_238">238</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FLOWER_O_GLENCOE">The flower o' Glencoe,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_239">239</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MRS_JANE_C_SIMPSON">MRS JANE C. SIMPSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_241">241</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5GENTLENESS">Gentleness,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_242">242</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HE_LOVED_HER_FOR_HER_MERRY_EYE">He loved her for her merry eye,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_244">244</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5LIFE_AND_DEATH">Life and death,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_245">245</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5GOOD_NIGHT">Good-night,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_246">246</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ANDREW_PARK">ANDREW PARK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_248">248</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5HURRAH_FOR_THE_HIGHLANDS">Hurrah for the Highlands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_249">249</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OLD_SCOTLAND_I_LOVE_THEE">Old Scotland, I love thee!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_250">250</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5FLOWERS_OF_SUMMER">Flowers of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_251">251</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5HOME_OF_MY_FATHERS">Home of my fathers,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_252">252</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5WHAT_AILS_MY_HEART">What ails my heart?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_253">253</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5AWAY_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS">Away to the Highlands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_254">254</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5I_M_AWAY">I'm away,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_255">255</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THERE_IS_A_BONNIE_BLUSHING_FLOWER">There is a bonnie, blushing flower,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_256">256</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MAID_OF_GLENCOE">The maid of Glencoe,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_257">257</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5MARION_PAUL_AIRD">MARION PAUL AIRD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_FA_O_THE_LEAF">The fa' o' the leaf,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_AULD_KIRK-YARD">The auld kirkyard,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_260">260</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5FAR_FAR_AWAY">Far, far away,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_261">261</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_SINCLAIR">WILLIAM SINCLAIR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_263">263</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_ROYAL_BREADALBANE_OAK">The royal Breadalbane oak,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_264">264</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5EVENING">Evening,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_265">265</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5MARY_3">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_266">266</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5ABSENCE">Absence,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_267">267</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5IS_NOT_THE_EARTH">Is not the earth,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_269">269</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5OH_LOVE_THE_SOLDIERS_DAUGHTER_DEAR14">Oh! love the soldier's daughter dear!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_270">270</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_BATTLE_OF_STIRLING">The battle of Stirling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_272">272</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5WILLIAM_MILLER">WILLIAM MILLER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5YE_COWE_A">Ye cowe a',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALEXANDER_HUME">ALEXANDER HUME,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5MY_AIN_DEAR_NELL">My ain dear Nell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_PAIRTIN">The pairtin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_278">278</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_MACDONALD_DD">JOHN MACDONALD, D.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_281">281</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_MISSIONARY_OF_ST_KILDA">The missionary of St Kilda,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_282">282</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5DUNCAN_KENNEDY">DUNCAN KENNEDY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_284">284</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_RETURN_OF_PEACE">The return of peace,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_285">285</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5ALLAN_MDOUGALL">ALLAN M'DOUGALL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_287">287</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_CARLINE">The song of the carline,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_288">288</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5KENNETH_MACKENZIE">KENNETH MACKENZIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_KILT">The song of the kilt,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JOHN_CAMPBELL">JOHN CAMPBELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_292">292</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5THE_STORM_BLAST">The storm blast,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_293">293</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol5JAMES_MGREGOR_DD">JAMES M'GREGOR, D.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_294">294</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol5LIGHT_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS18">Light in the Highlands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol5Page_295">295</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_1" id="vol5Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span><a name="vol5FRANCIS_BENNOCH1" id="vol5FRANCIS_BENNOCH1"></a>FRANCIS BENNOCH.<a name="vol5FNanchor_1_1" id="vol5FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_2" id="vol5Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of the mountain and the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of their sires"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>with the same cherished and enduring affection which excites in the +<i>Rans des Vaches</i> 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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Had paidlet i' the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pu'd the gowans fine."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_3" id="vol5Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>It was in the <i>Dumfries Courier</i> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The flowers may fade upon your banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The breckan on the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! the love I ha'e for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall never pass away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though age may wrinkle this smooth brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And youth be like a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still my voice to heaven shall rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For blessings on your stream!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"The dearest theme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever waked the poet's dream,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In halls, in gay attire is seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hamlets, dances on the green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man below, and saints above:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love is heaven, and heaven is love!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Nor was this essential inspiration wanting in the breast of the young +bard. The climate of Caledonia is<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_4" id="vol5Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> 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:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The moon is shining, Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Serenely bright above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like my dearest Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her every look is love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees are waving, Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And balmy is the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flowers are breathing, Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, let us wander there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! there 's a hand, dear Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heart it gives to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When heaven is false, my Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then I may faithless be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The sea, by day so smooth and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is far more lovely seen by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When o'er old Ocean's wrinkled brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night has hung her silver bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stars in myriads ope their eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide the footsteps of the wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the deep reflected lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Ocean seems a second sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ships, like wing'd aerial cars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are voyaging among the stars."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_5" id="vol5Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>This is—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ere winter comes with icy chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clanks his fetters o'er the ground."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The impersonation of Winter himself is very striking—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Loud, loud were the shouts of his boisterous mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he scatter'd dismay o'er the smiling earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds were rent as the storm was driven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He howl'd and laugh'd in the face of heaven."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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)<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_6" id="vol5Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_7" id="vol5Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5TRUTH_AND_HONOUR" id="vol5TRUTH_AND_HONOUR"></a>TRUTH AND HONOUR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If wealth thou art wooing, or title, or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is that in the doing brings honour or shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is something in running life's perilous race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will stamp thee as worthy, or brand thee as base.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, then, be a man—and, whatever betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If a king—be thy kingship right royally shewn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trust to thy subjects to shelter thy throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rely not on weapons or armies of might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on that which endureth,—laws loving and right.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a king, be a man—and, whatever betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If a noble—remember, though ancient thy blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart truly noble is that which is good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should a stain of dishonour encrimson thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art slave to the peasant that sweats at the plough.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be noble as man—and, whatever betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If lover or husband—be faithful and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For doubting is death to the sensitive mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's exquisite passion a breath may destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sower in faith, reapeth harvests of joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love dignifies man—and, whatever betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_8" id="vol5Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If a father—be firm, yet forgiving, and prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the child honours him who rebuketh with love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If rich, or if poor, or whate'er thou may'st be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember the truthful alone are the free.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Erect in thy manhood, whatever betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep truth thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, though sickness may come, or misfortunes may fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is that in thy bosom surviveth them all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth, honour, love, friendship, no tempests can pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are beacons of light in adversity's gale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the manlike is godlike—no ill shall betide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While truth 's thy companion, and honour thy guide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OUR_SHIP" id="vol5OUR_SHIP"></a>OUR SHIP.<a name="vol5FNanchor_2_2" id="vol5FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A song, a song, brave hearts, a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the ship in which we ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bears us along right gallantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Defying the mutinous tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away, away, by night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Propelled by steam and wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The watery waste before her lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a flaming wake behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then a ho and a hip to the gallant ship<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That carries us o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through storm and foam, to a western home<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The home of the brave and free.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_9" id="vol5Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a fearless bound to the depths profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She rushes with proud disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While pale lips tell the fears that swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest she never should rise again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a courser's pride she paws the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unbridled by bit I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the churlish sea she dashes with glee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a cataract from her prow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then a ho and a hip, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She bears not on board a lawless horde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Piratic in thought or deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the sword they would draw in defence of law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the nation's hour of need.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Professors and poets, and merchant men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose voyagings never cease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shore to shore, the wide world o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their bonds are the bonds of peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then a ho and a hip, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She boasts the brave, the dutiful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The aged and the young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woman bright and beautiful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And childhood's prattling tongue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a dip and a rise, like a bird she flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we fear not the storm or squall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For faithful officers rule the helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heaven protects us all.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then a ho and a hip to the gallant ship<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That carries us o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through storm and foam, to a western home,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The home of the brave and free.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_10" id="vol5Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5AULD_PETER_MACGOWAN" id="vol5AULD_PETER_MACGOWAN"></a>AULD PETER MACGOWAN.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'The Brisk Young Lad.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Auld Peter MacGowan cam down the craft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' rubbit his han's an' fidged an' laugh't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O little thought he o' his wrinkled chaft,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When he wanted me to lo'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He patted my brow an' smooth'd my chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He praised my e'en an' sleek white skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne fain wad kiss; but the laugh within<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Came rattlin' out, I trew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sirs, but he was a canty carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' rings o' gowd, an' a brooch o' pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye he spoke o' his frien' the Earl,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And thought he would conquer lo'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He boasted o' gear an' acres wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' his bawsand youd that I should ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I was made his bonny wee bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Returning lo'e for lo'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I a lady to kirk should gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ha'e writ my virtues in a sang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I snapp'd my thumb, and said, "gae hang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gin that's the best ye can do."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sirs, but he was a silly auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair he spak' o' his gear an' lan';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' through the town like lightning ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The tale o' auld Peter's lo'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_11" id="vol5Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' sae the auld carle spiel'd up the craft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raved and stamp'd like ane gane daft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till tears trickled owre his burning chaft,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sin' he couldna win my lo'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Far better be single," the folk a' said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Than a warming pan in an auld man's bed;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will be cunning wha gars me wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' ane that I never can lo'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Na, na! he maun be a fine young lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A canty lad, an' a dainty lad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, he maun be a spirited lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wha thinks to win my lo'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_FLOWER_OF_KEIR" id="vol5THE_FLOWER_OF_KEIR"></a>THE FLOWER OF KEIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O what care I where love was born;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know where oft he lingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till night's black curtain 's drawn aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By morning's rosy fingers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you would know, come, follow me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mountain, moss, and river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where the Nith and Scar agree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To flow as one for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pass Kirk-o'-Keir and Clover lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through loanings red with roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pause beside the spreading tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Fanny's bower encloses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, knitting in her shady grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sits Fanny singing gaily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwitting of the chains of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's forging for us daily.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_12" id="vol5Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like light that brings the blossom forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sets the corn a-growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melts icy mountains in the north,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sets the streams a-flowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Fanny's eyes, so bright and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed loving rays to cheer us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her absence gives us wintry skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Tis summer when she 's near us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, saw ye ever such a face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waken love and wonder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brow with such an arch of grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blue eyes shining under!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her snaring smiles, sweet nature's wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are equall'd not by many;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her look it charms, her love it warms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flower of Keir is Fanny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CONSTANCY" id="vol5CONSTANCY"></a>CONSTANCY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! I have traversed lands afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mountains high, and prairies green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still above me like a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Serene and bright thy love has been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still above me like a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gladden, guide, and keep me free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every ill. Oh, life were chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Apart, my love, apart from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Other eyes might beam as bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And other cheeks as rosy be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other arms as pure and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And other lips as sweet to pree;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_13" id="vol5Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But ruddy lips, or beaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">However fond and fair to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could not, would not love or prize<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Apart, my love, apart from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Other friendships I have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Friendships dear, and pure, and kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liking soon to friendship grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love is friendship's ore refined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what is life, with love denied?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A scentless flower, a leafless tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My song with love,—my love with pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are full,—my love, are full of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_WIFIE" id="vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_WIFIE"></a>MY BONNIE WEE WIFIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave thee sae lanely, and far frae me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come night and come morning, I 'll soon be returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, oh, my dear wifie, how happy we 'll be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, cauld is the night, and the way dreigh and dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The snaw 's drifting blindly o'er moorland an' lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature looks eerie. How can she be cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since weel she maun ken I am parted frae thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, wae is the lammie, that 's lost its dear mammy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' waefu' the bird that sits chirping alane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plaints they are making, their wee bit hearts breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are throbbings o' pleasure compared wi' my pain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_14" id="vol5Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The sun to the simmer, the bark to the timmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sense to the soul, an' the light to the e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bud to the blossom, sae thou 'rt to my bosom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, wae 's my heart, wifie, when parted frae thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nae guid availing in weeping or wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should friendship be failing wi' fortune's decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love in our hearts glowing, its riches bestowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bequeaths us a treasure life takes not away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let nae anxious feeling creep o'er thy heart, stealing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bloom frae thy cheek when thou 'rt thinking of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come night and come morning, I 'll then be returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae mair, cozie wifie, we parted shall be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BONNIE_BIRD" id="vol5THE_BONNIE_BIRD"></a>THE BONNIE BIRD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, where wiled ye that winsome fairy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear me it was where nae truth was heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far frae the shrine o' guid St Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I didna snare the bonnie, bonnie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor try ony wiles wi' the winsome fairy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But won her young heart where the angels heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bowery glen of Inverary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And what want ye wi' sic a bonnie bird?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fear me its plumes ye will ruffle sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bring it low down to the lane kirkyard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where blossoms o' grace are planted early.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_15" id="vol5Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As life I love my bonnie, bonnie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its plumage shall never be ruffled sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the day o' doom I will keep my word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' cherish my bonnie bird late an' early.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, whence rings out that merry, merry peal?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laugh and the sang are cherish'd rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is—it is the bonny, bonny bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' twa sma' voices a' piping early.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For he didna snare that bonny, bonny bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor did he beguile the winsome fairy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had made her his ain, where the angels heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the holy shrine o' the blest St Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5COME_WHEN_THE_DAWN" id="vol5COME_WHEN_THE_DAWN"></a>COME WHEN THE DAWN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gold on the mountain-tops, mist on the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come when the clamorous birds are awaking<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man unto duty and pleasure again;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bright let your spirits be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Breathing sweet liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drinking the rapture that gladdens the brain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High o'er the swelling hills shepherds are climbing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down in the meadows the mowers are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haymakers singing, and village bells chiming;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lasses and lads lightly trip o'er the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Flying, pursuing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Toying, and wooing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nature is now as she ever has been.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_16" id="vol5Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then when the toils of the day are all over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gathered, delighted, set round in a ring—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth, with its mirthfulness—age, with its cheerfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brimful of happiness, cheerily sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Bright may our spirits be—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Happy and ever free.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blest are the joys that from innocence spring."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5GOOD_MORROW3" id="vol5GOOD_MORROW3"></a>GOOD MORROW.<a name="vol5FNanchor_3_3" id="vol5FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good morrow, good morrow! warm, rosy, and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glow the clouds in the east, laughing heralds of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst still as the glorious colours decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full gushes of music seem tracking their way.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark! hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it the sheep-bell among the ling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the early milkmaid carolling?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark! hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or is it the lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he bids the sun good-morrow?—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Good-morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though every day brings sorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The daylight is dying, the night drawing near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The workers are silent; yet ringing and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the leafiest tree in the shady bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes melody falling in silvery showers.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark! hark!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_17" id="vol5Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Is it the musical chime on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweetly ringeth when all is still?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark! hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, sweeter than lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the nightingale's song of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pleasure will come to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_WAES_MY_LIFE" id="vol5OH_WAES_MY_LIFE"></a>OH, WAE'S MY LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, wae's my life, and sad my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The saut tears fill my e'e, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae hope can bloom this side the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since ye hae gane frae me, Willie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' warl's gear I couldna' boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now I'm poor indeed, Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last fond hope I leant upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fail'd me in my need, Willie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For wealth or fame ye've left your Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgat your plighted vow, Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can honours proud dispel the cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That darkens on your brow, Willie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, was I then a thing sae mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For nought but beauty prized, Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caress'd a'e day, then flung away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fading flower despised, Willie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sin' love has fled, and hope is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon my poor heart maun break, Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As your ain life, oh, guard your wife—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll love her for your sake, Willie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_18" id="vol5Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through my despair, oh, mony a prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will rise for her and ye, Willie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ye may prove to her, in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mair faithfu' than to me, Willie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HEY_MY_BONNIE_WEE_LASSIE" id="vol5HEY_MY_BONNIE_WEE_LASSIE"></a>HEY, MY BONNIE WEE LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hey, my bonnie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blythe and cheerie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will ye wed a canty carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bonnie, bonnie wee lassie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ha'e sheep, an' I ha'e kye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e wheat, an' I ha'e rye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' heaps o' siller, lass, forbye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ye shall spen' wi' me, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey, my bonnie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blythe and cheerie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will ye wed a canty carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bonnie, bonnie wee lassie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye shall dress in damask fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My goud and gear shall a' be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I to ye be ever kin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say,—will ye marry me, lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey, my bonnie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blythe and cheerie wee lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will ye wed a canty carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bonnie, smiling wee lassie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gae hame, auld man, an' darn your hose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill up your lanky sides wi' brose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' at the ingle warm your nose;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But come na courtin' me, carle.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_19" id="vol5Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye tottering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Silly, clavering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hawk an' doo shall pair, I trew,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Before I pair wi' ye, carle!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your heart is cauld an' hard as stanes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye ha'e nae marrow in your banes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' siller canna buy the brains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That pleasure gie to me, carle!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye tottering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Silly, clavering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hound an' hare may seek ae lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But I'll no sleep wi' ye, carle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna share your gowd wi' ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your withering heart, an' watery e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In death I'd sooner shrouded be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than wedded to ye, auld carle!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye tottering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Silly, clavering auld carle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When roses blaw on leafs o' snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I'll bloom upon your breast, carle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there's a lad, an' I'm his ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May heaven blessings on him rain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though plackless, he is unco fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he's the man for me, carle!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, youth an' age can ne'er agree;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though rich, you're no the man for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gae hame, auld carle, prepare to dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pray heaven to be your bride, carle.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_20" id="vol5Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5BESSIE" id="vol5BESSIE"></a>BESSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, mony a year has come and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mony a weary day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' frae my hame, my mountain hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I first was lured away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander over unco lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far ayont the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no to find a land like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hame o' Bess an' me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've traversed mony a dreary land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the braid, braid sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh, my native mountain hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thochts were aye wi' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As certain as the sun wad rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And set ahint the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae constant, Bessie, were my prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At morn an' nicht for thee;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I return'd unto my hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills were clad wi' snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though they look'd cold and cheerless, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart was in a glow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though keen the wintry north wind blew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like summer 'twas to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, Bess, my frame was warm wi' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of country, kindred, thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae flower e'er hail'd wi' sweeter smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Returning sunny beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I then hailed my native hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its mountains, woods, and streams.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_21" id="vol5Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Now we are met, my bonnie Bess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We never mair will part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although to a' we seem as twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We only hae ae heart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll be sae loving a' the nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae happy a' the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That though our bodies time may change,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our love shall ne'er decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gently as yon lovely stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Declining years shall run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' life shall pass frae our auld clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As snow melts 'neath the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5COURTSHIP" id="vol5COURTSHIP"></a>COURTSHIP.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen on Cample's bonnie flood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The summer moon was shining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on a bank in Chrichope wood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Two lovers were reclining:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They spak' o' youth, an' hoary age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' time how swiftly fleeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ilka thing, in sooth, but ane,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The reason of their meeting!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Willie thoucht his heart was firm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' might declare its feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A glance frae Bessy's starry een<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sent a' his senses reeling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye when he essay'd to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' she prepared to hear him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought in crimson dyed his cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But words would no come near him!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_22" id="vol5Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis ever thus that love is taught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By his divinest teacher;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He silent adoration seeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But shuns the prosy preacher.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now read me right, ye gentle anes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor deem my lesson hollow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deepest river silent rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The babbling brook is shallow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5TOGETHER" id="vol5TOGETHER"></a>TOGETHER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Together, dearest, we have play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As girl and boy together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through storm and calm, in sun and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In spring and wintry weather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! every pang that stinging came<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But made our love the dearer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If danger lower'd—'twas all the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We only clung the nearer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In riper years, when all the world<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay bathed in light before us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life in rainbow hues unfurl'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its glowing banner o'er us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the beauty storms would rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flowers collapsing wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While open friends turned hidden foes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet were we blest together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now the battle's fought and won,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And care with life is flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, setting slowly like the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition's fires are dying.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_23" id="vol5Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">We gather hope with fading strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And go, we know not whither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contented if in death at last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We sleep in peace together.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5FLORENCE_NIGHTINGALE" id="vol5FLORENCE_NIGHTINGALE"></a>FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With lofty song we love to cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hearts of daring men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Applauded thus, they gladly hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trumpet's call again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now we sing of lowly deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Devoted to the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where she, who stems the wound that bleeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hero's life may save:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heroes saved exulting tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How well her voice they knew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sorrow near it could not dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But spread its wings and flew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neglected, dying in despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They lay till woman came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe them with her gentle care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And feed life's flickering flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wounded sore, on fever's rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or cast away as slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She called their fluttering spirits back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gave them strength again.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_24" id="vol5Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas grief to miss the passing face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That suffering could dispel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But joy to turn and kiss the place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On which her shadow fell.<a name="vol5FNanchor_4_4" id="vol5FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When words of wrath profaning rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She moved with pitying grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her presence still'd the wildest tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And holy<a name="vol5FNanchor_5_5" id="vol5FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> made the place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew that they were cared for then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their eyes forgot their tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dreamy sleep they lost their pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thought of early years—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of early years, when all was fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of faces sweet and pale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They woke: the angel bending there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was—Florence Nightingale!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_25" id="vol5Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOSEPH_MACGREGOR" id="vol5JOSEPH_MACGREGOR"></a>JOSEPH MACGREGOR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LADDIE_OH_LEAVE_ME" id="vol5LADDIE_OH_LEAVE_ME"></a>LADDIE, OH! LEAVE ME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When love's star was smilin', I met wi' my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! vain was its smilin'—she wadna believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But said wi' a saucy air, "Laddie, oh! leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Leave me, leave me, laddie, oh! leave me."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_26" id="vol5Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 've lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've lo'ed thee o'er fondly, through life e'er to weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've lo'ed thee o'er lang, love, at last to deceive thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look cauldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee;"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Leave thee, leave thee, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There 's nae ither saft e'e that fills me wi' pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae ither rose-lip has half o' its treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae ither bower, love, shall ever receive me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death break this fond heart—oh! then I maun leave thee;"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Leave thee, leave thee, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tears o'er her cheeks ran like dew frae red roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hope to the lover one tear-drop discloses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kiss'd them, and blest her—at last to relieve me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She yielded her hand, and sigh'd, "Oh! never leave me;"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Leave me, leave me, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HOW_BLYTHELY_THE_PIPE" id="vol5HOW_BLYTHELY_THE_PIPE"></a>HOW BLYTHELY THE PIPE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Kinloch of Kinloch."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How blythely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At morn when the clans to the merry dance hied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gay were the love-knots, o'er hearts fondly bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Ronald woo'd Flora, and made her his bride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But war's banner streaming soon changed their fond dreaming—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The battle-cry echoed, around and above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broad claymores were glancing, and war-steeds were prancing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up, Ronald! to arms for home and your love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_27" id="vol5Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All was hush'd o'er the hill, where love linger'd despairing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her bride-maids still deck'd in their gay festal gear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she wept as she saw them fresh garlands preparing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which might laurel Love's brow, or be strew'd o'er his bier!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheer thee, fond maiden—each wild breeze is laden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With victory's slogan, through mountain and grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where death streams were gushing, and war-steeds were rushing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lord Ronald has conquer'd for home and for love!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_28" id="vol5Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_DUNBAR_DD" id="vol5WILLIAM_DUNBAR_DD"></a>WILLIAM DUNBAR, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_29" id="vol5Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MAID_OF_ISLAY" id="vol5THE_MAID_OF_ISLAY"></a>THE MAID OF ISLAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rising o'er the heaving billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Evening gilds the ocean's swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While with thee, on grassy pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Solitude! I love to dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely to the sea-breeze blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft I chant my love-lorn strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the streamlet sweetly flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Murmur oft a lover's pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas for her, the Maid of Islay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time flew o'er me wing'd with joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas for her, the cheering smile aye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beam'd with rapture in my eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the tempest raving round me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightning's flash or thunder's roll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the ocean's rage could wound me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While her image fill'd my soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, days of purest pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long your loss my heart shall mourn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, hours of bliss the measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bliss that never can return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheerless o'er the wild heath wand'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cheerless o'er the wave-worn shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the past with sadness pond'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope's fair visions charm no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_30" id="vol5Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_JERDAN" id="vol5WILLIAM_JERDAN"></a>WILLIAM JERDAN.</h2> + +<p>The well known editor of the <i>Literary Gazette</i>, 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 +<i>Gladiator</i> 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 +<i>Aurora</i>, a morning paper, of temporary duration. In January 1807, he +joined the <i>Pilot</i>, an evening paper. Subsequently, he was one of the +conductors of the <i>Morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_31" id="vol5Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Post</i> and a reporter for the <i>British +Press</i>. Purchasing the copyright of the <i>Satirist</i>, he for a short time +edited that journal. In May 1813, he became conductor of <i>The Sun</i>, 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 <i>Literary Gazette</i>, which he conducted +till 1850, and with which his name will continue to be associated.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Foreign Literary Gazette</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_32" id="vol5Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_WEE_BIRDS_SONG6" id="vol5THE_WEE_BIRDS_SONG6"></a>THE WEE BIRD'S SONG.<a name="vol5FNanchor_6_6" id="vol5FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard a wee bird singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my chamber as I lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The casement open swinging,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As morning woke the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the boughs around were twining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright sun through them shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I had long been pining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my Willie far away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I heard the wee bird singing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He heard the wee bird singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For its notes were wondrous clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if wedding bells were ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Melodious to the ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still it rang that wee bird's song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just like the bells—dong-ding, ding-dong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my heart beat so quick and strong—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It felt that he was near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he heard the wee bird singing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We heard the wee bird singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">After brief time had flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The true bells had been ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Willie was my own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft I tell him, jesting, playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew what the wee bird was saying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That morn, when he, no longer straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flew back to me alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we love the wee bird singing.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_33" id="vol5Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WHAT_MAKES_THIS_HOUR" id="vol5WHAT_MAKES_THIS_HOUR"></a>WHAT MAKES THIS HOUR?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What makes this hour a day to me?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What makes this day a year?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own love promised we should meet—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my own love is not here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! did she feel half what I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her tryst she ne'er would break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ne'er would lift this heart to hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then leave this heart to ache;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And make the hour a day to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And make the day a year;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hour she promised we should meet—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But my own love is not here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! can she inconstant prove?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Does sickness force her stay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it fate, or failing love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That keeps my love away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make the hour a day to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make the day a year?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hour and day we should have met—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my own love is not here.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_34" id="vol5Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_BALD" id="vol5ALEXANDER_BALD"></a>ALEXANDER BALD.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Scots' Magazine</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_35" id="vol5Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_LILY_OF_THE_VALE7" id="vol5THE_LILY_OF_THE_VALE7"></a>THE LILY OF THE VALE.<a name="vol5FNanchor_7_7" id="vol5FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>'Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily of the vale is sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweeter still the op'ning rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter far my Mary is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than any blooming flower that blows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst spring her fragrant blossoms spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll wander oft by Mary's side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whisper saft the tender tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Forth, sweet Forth's meandering tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There will we walk at early dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere yet the sun begins to shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At eve oft, too, the lawn we'll tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mark that splendid orb's decline.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest, choicest flowers I'll crop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To deck my lovely Mary's hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while I live, I vow and swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She'll be my chief—my only care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HOW_SWEET_ARE_THE_BLUSHES_OF_MORN" id="vol5HOW_SWEET_ARE_THE_BLUSHES_OF_MORN"></a>HOW SWEET ARE THE BLUSHES OF MORN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet are the blushes of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet is the gay blossom'd grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linnet chants sweet from the thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter's the smile of my love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_36" id="vol5Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awhile, my dear Mary, farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since fate has decreed we should part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine image shall still with me dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though absent, you'll reign in my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But by winding Devon's green bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At eve's dewy hour as I rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll grieve for the pride of her flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the pride of her maidens, my love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The music shall cease in the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine absence the linnet shall mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the lark, in strains bearing love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft warbling, shall greet thy return.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_37" id="vol5Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5GEORGE_WILSON" id="vol5GEORGE_WILSON"></a>GEORGE WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MILD_AS_THE_MORNING" id="vol5MILD_AS_THE_MORNING"></a>MILD AS THE MORNING.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Bonnie Dundee.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young Mary, all lovely, had come from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tear-streaming eyes, and a grief-burden'd bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To view with sad horror the carnage of war.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_38" id="vol5Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She sought her brave brother with sighing and sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her loud lamentations she pour'd out in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hero had fallen, with kinsmen surrounded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deep he lay buried 'mong heaps of the slain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! Donald, my brother, in death art thou sleeping?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or groan'st thou in chains of some barbarous foe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are none of thy kindred in life now remaining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell a sad tale of destruction and woe?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hero who struggled in death's cold embraces,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose bosom, deep gash'd, was all clotted with gore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas! Lady Mary, the mighty M'Donald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will lead his brave heroes to battle no more."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She turn'd, and she gazed all around, much confounded;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tidings of sorrow sunk deep in her heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw her brave kinsman laid low, deadly wounded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wanted that succour, she could not impart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh! Murdoch, my kinsman," with hands raised to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Thy strength, bloom, and beauty, alas! all are o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, my brave brother, my brave gallant brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies sleeping beside thee, to waken no more."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BEACONS_BLAZED" id="vol5THE_BEACONS_BLAZED"></a>THE BEACONS BLAZED.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Cope sent a letter frae Dunbar.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beacons blazed, the banners flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The war-pipes loud their pibrochs blew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trusty clans their claymores drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To shield their Royal Charlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_39" id="vol5Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Come a' ye chiefs, bring a' your clans,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Frae a' your mountains, muirs, and glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bring a' your spears, swords, dirks, and guns,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To shield and save Prince Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They, like their fathers, bold and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came at a call, wi' dirk and glaive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of danger fearless, sworn to save<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or fa' for Royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Famed Scotia's chiefs, intrepid still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led forth their tribes frae strath and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And boldly dared, wi' right guid will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To shield their Royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The forests and the rocks replied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shouts which rung both far and wide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our prince is come, his people's pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, welcome hame, Prince Charlie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thee, Scotia's rightful prince we own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll die, or seat thee on the throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where many a Scottish king has shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sires o' Royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No faithful Scot now makes a pause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plain truth and justice plead thy cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each fearlessly his weapon draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To shield and save Prince Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, lead us on against thy foes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rightful claim all Europe knows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll scatter death with all our blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To shield and save Prince Charlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_40" id="vol5Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, chiefs and clans, your faith display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By deathless deeds in battle day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stretch them pale on beds of clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The foes of Royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_RENDEZVOUS" id="vol5THE_RENDEZVOUS"></a>THE RENDEZVOUS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Warlike chieftains now assembled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fame your daring deeds shall tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fiercest foes have fear'd and trembled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When you raised your warlike yell.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bards shall sing when battle rages,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Scotia's sons shall victors be;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bards shall sing in after ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Caledonians aye were free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest be every bold avenger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cheer'd the heart that fears no wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreadful in the day of danger<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be each chieftain ever found.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the hills our swords have shielded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring to every hero's praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tribes who never yielded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their immortal trophies raise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heroes brave, be ever ready,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At your king and country's call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your dauntless chiefs shall lead you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the foe that dares you fall.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_41" id="vol5Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the harp to strains resounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring to cheer the dauntless brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the brave like roes come bounding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On to glory or a grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let your laurels never-fading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gleam like your unconquer'd glaive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where your thistle springs triumphant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There let freedom's banner wave.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_42" id="vol5Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_YOUNGER" id="vol5JOHN_YOUNGER"></a>JOHN YOUNGER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>brochure</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_43" id="vol5Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_GETS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW" id="vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_GETS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW"></a>ILKA BLADE O' GRASS GETS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna be sae sair cast down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain sweet bairnies dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever storms in life may blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Take nae sic heart o' fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though life's been aye a checker'd scene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since Eve's first apple grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae blade o' grass has been forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' its ain drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie flowers o' Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a' that 's bloom'd sinsyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By bank an' brae an' lover's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adown the course o' time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or 'neath the gardener's fostering hand,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their annual bloom renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk blade o' grass has had as weel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its ain sweet drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The oaks and cedars of the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May toss their arms in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bend beneath the sweeping blast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That strips the forest bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower enfolds while storms o'erpass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till sunshine spreads anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sips, as does ilk blade o' grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its lucent drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The great may loll in world's wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a' the pomp o' state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While labour, bent wi' eident cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maun toil baith ear and late.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_44" id="vol5Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The poor may gae to bed distrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With nae relief in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rising, like ilk blade o' grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine wi' the pearl o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a gentle hand is His<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That cleeds the lilies fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o' the meanest thing in life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Takes mair than mother's care!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can ye no put your trust in Him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heart resign'd and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha ne'er forgets to gie the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ilk blade its drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MONTH_OF_JUNE" id="vol5THE_MONTH_OF_JUNE"></a>THE MONTH OF JUNE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O June, ye spring the loveliest flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a' our seasons yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye deck sae flush the greenwood bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garden, and the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pathway verge by hedge and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So fresh, so green, and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every lovely blue flower's e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is opening to the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river banks and craggy peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wilding blossoms drest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ivy o'er their jutting nooks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye screen the ouzel's nest;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_45" id="vol5Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From precipice, abrupt and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your tendrils flaunt in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With craw-flowers dangling living gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye tuft the steep brown scaur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your foliage shades the wild bird's nest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From every prying e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fairy fingers ye invest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In woven flowers the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the lover's blissful hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye draw your leafy screen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shade those in your rosy bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who love to muse unseen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_46" id="vol5Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_BURTT" id="vol5JOHN_BURTT"></a>JOHN BURTT.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Presbyterian</i>. Admitted in 1833 to a Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati, +he there edited the <i>Standard</i>, a religious newspaper. In August 1835, +he was promoted to a chair in the Theological Seminary of that place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_47" id="vol5Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OER_THE_MIST-SHROUDED_CLIFFS8" id="vol5OER_THE_MIST-SHROUDED_CLIFFS8"></a>O'ER THE MIST-SHROUDED CLIFFS.<a name="vol5FNanchor_8_8" id="vol5FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Banks of the Devon.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What woes wring my heart while intently surveying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye foam-crested billows, allow me to wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere ye toss me afar from my loved native shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the flower which bloom'd sweetest in Coila's green vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pride of my bosom—my Mary 's no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more by the banks of the streamlet we 'll wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smile at the moon's rimpled face in the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more shall my arms cling with fondness around her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the dew-drops of morning fall cold on her grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more shall the soft thrill of love warm my breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I haste with the storm to a far distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, unknown, unlamented, my ashes shall rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy shall revisit my bosom no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5O_LASSIE_I_LOE_DEAREST" id="vol5O_LASSIE_I_LOE_DEAREST"></a>O! LASSIE, I LO'E DEAREST!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! lassie, I lo'e dearest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair fair to me than fairest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mair rare to me than rarest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How sweet to think o' thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_48" id="vol5Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When blythe the blue e'ed dawnin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals saftly o'er the lawnin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And furls night's sable awnin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love to think o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' while the honey'd dew-drap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still trembles at the flower-tap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest bud I pu't up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' kiss'd for sake o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when by stream or fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In glen, or on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lingering moments counting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I pause an' think o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sun's red rays are streamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm on the meadow beamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or o'er the loch wild gleamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart is fu' o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' tardy-footed gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out o'er the hills slow comin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still finds me lanely roamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thinkin' still o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When soughs the distant billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' night blasts shake the willow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretch'd on my lanely pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dreams are a' o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then think when frien's caress thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, think when cares distress thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, think when pleasures bless thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' him that thinks o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_49" id="vol5Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5CHARLES_JAMES_FINLAYSON" id="vol5CHARLES_JAMES_FINLAYSON"></a>CHARLES JAMES FINLAYSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>trysts</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_50" id="vol5Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BARD_STRIKES_HIS_HARP" id="vol5THE_BARD_STRIKES_HIS_HARP"></a>THE BARD STRIKES HIS HARP.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bard strikes his harp, the wild woods among,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And echo repeats to the breezes his strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enraptured, the small birds around his seat throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lambkins, delighted, stand mute on the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sings of the pleasures his young bosom knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When beauty inspired him, and love was the theme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his harp, ever faithful, awakes them anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a tear dims his eye as he breathes the loved name.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_51" id="vol5Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hearths that bade welcome, the tongues that gave praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are now cold to his sorrows, and mute to his wail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en the oak, his sole shelter, rude winter decays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wild flowers he sung are laid scentless and pale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too oft thus in misery, the minstrel must pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Neglected by those whom his song wont to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think not, alas! as they view his decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That his heart still can feel, and his eye shed a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet sweet are the pleasures that spring from his woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And which souls that are songless can never enjoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They know not his joy, for each sweet strain that flows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twines a wreath round his name time can never destroy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing on, then, sweet bard! though thus lonely ye stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ages unborn, thy name shall revere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the names that neglect thee have melted away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the snowflakes which fall in the stream disappear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5PHOEBUS_WI_GOWDEN_CREST" id="vol5PHOEBUS_WI_GOWDEN_CREST"></a>PHŒBUS, WI' GOWDEN CREST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Phœbus, wi' gowden crest, leaves ocean's heaving breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' frae the purple east smiles on the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laverocks wi' blythesome strain, mount frae the dewy plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Greenwood and rocky glen echo their lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild flowers, wi' op'ning blooms, woo ilka breeze that comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scattering their rich perfumes over the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But summer's varied dye, lark's song, and breezes' sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only bring sorrow and sadness to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_52" id="vol5Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blighted, like autumn's leaf, ilk joy is changed to grief—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Day smiles around, but no pleasure can gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night on his sable wings, sweet rest to nature brings—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleep to the weary, but waukin' to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aften has warldly care wrung my sad bosom sair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope's visions fled me, an' friendship's untrue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a' the ills o' fate never could thus create<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Anguish like parting, dear Annie, frae you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, those beaming eyes, stars in life's wintry skies—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aft has adversity fled frae your ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, that angel smile, stranger to woman's wile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever could beguile sorrow away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ilk happy scene, wild wood, an' valley green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where time, on rapture's wing, over us flew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, that peace of heart, thou only could'st impart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell, dear Annie—a long, long adieu!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_MY_LOVES_BONNIE" id="vol5OH_MY_LOVES_BONNIE"></a>OH, MY LOVE'S BONNIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oh! my love's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! my love's bonnie and dear to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The smile o' her face, and her e'e's witchin' grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Are mair than the wealth o' this warld can gie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her voice is as sweet as the blackbird at gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When echo repeats her soft notes to the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovely and fresh as the wild roses blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dip in the stream o' the Carron so clear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_53" id="vol5Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But poortith 's a foe to the peace o' this bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glows sae devoutly, dear lassie, for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that e'er poortith should blight love's young blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When riches nae lasting contentment can gie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet hope's cheerfu' sun shall aboon my head hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guide a lone wanderer, when far frae thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ne'er, till it sets, will I prove a false lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or think o' anither, dear lassie, but thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_54" id="vol5Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_DOBIE" id="vol5WILLIAM_DOBIE"></a>WILLIAM DOBIE.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_55" id="vol5Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_DREARY_REIGN_OF_WINTER_S_PAST" id="vol5THE_DREARY_REIGN_OF_WINTER_S_PAST"></a>THE DREARY REIGN OF WINTER 'S PAST.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Loch Errochside.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dreary reign of Winter 's past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frost, the snow, the surly blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To polar hills are scouring fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For balmy Spring 's returning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adown Glen-Garnock's lonely vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torrent's voice has ceased to wail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soft low notes, borne on the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dispel dull gloom and mourning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With toil and long fatigue depress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exhausted nature sunk oppress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till waken'd from her slumbering rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By balmy Spring returning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in flower'd vesture, green and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovelier each succeeding day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon from her face shall pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each trace of Winter's mourning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, at her mild benign command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life rouses up on every hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While bursts of joy o'er all the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hail balmy Spring returning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en murmuring stream and raving linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And solemn wood in softened din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All join great Nature's praise to hymn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fled is Winter's mourning.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_56" id="vol5Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While all on earth, and in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In transports fervently rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall man refuse to raise his voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And welcome Spring returning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If such ingrates exist below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ne'er can feel the sacred glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Nature and the Muse bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cheer the gloom of mourning.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_57" id="vol5Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ROBERT_HENDRY_MD" id="vol5ROBERT_HENDRY_MD"></a>ROBERT HENDRY, M.D.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 after<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_58" id="vol5Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>wards 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_LET_NA_GANG_YON_BONNIE_LASSIE" id="vol5OH_LET_NA_GANG_YON_BONNIE_LASSIE"></a>OH, LET NA GANG YON BONNIE LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cam' to see you a' yestreen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winning gate 's about that lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Something mair than meets the een.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she na baked the Christmas pasty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think ye it had been sae fine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or yet the biscuit sae delicious<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That we crumpit to the wine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her ringlets are the gift o' nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowing gracefu' o'er her brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The turn, the hue o' ilka feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Form, and colour, nature drew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's meikle sought, and meikle thought o',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lang unwedded canna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' kindness court the comely creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cast the glaumrie o'er her e'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_59" id="vol5Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have ye an ear can be delighted?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a seraph she can sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' charming grace and witching manner,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thrilling o'er the music string.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tell the tale that moves to pity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wi' heart and feeling speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then watch the turn o' ilka feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kiss the tear that weets her cheek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She sooms na aye in silk or satin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flaunting like a modern belle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her robe and plaid 's the simple tartan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet and modest like hersel'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shapely robe adorns her person<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That her eident hand wad sew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plaid sae graceful flung around her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas her tastefu' manner threw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 'll mak' a thrifty loving woman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To a kind weel-doing man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forby a tender-hearted mother—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Win the lassie if ye can.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel she 's worth your heart and treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May your bridal day be near—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then half a score o' bairns hereafter—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May ye live a hunder year.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_60" id="vol5Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5HEW_AINSLIE" id="vol5HEW_AINSLIE"></a>HEW AINSLIE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_61" id="vol5Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_HAMEWARD_SANG" id="vol5THE_HAMEWARD_SANG"></a>THE HAMEWARD SANG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each whirl of the wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each step brings me nearer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hame of my youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every object grows dearer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thae hills and thae huts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thae trees on that green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Losh! they glower in my face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like some kindly auld frien'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_62" id="vol5Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en the brutes they look social,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As gif they would crack;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sang o' the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems to welcome me back.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dear to our hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the hand that first fed us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear is the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cottage that bred us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dear are the comrades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With whom we once sported,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dearer the maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose love we first courted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy's image may perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en grief die away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the scenes of our youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are recorded for aye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5DOWIE_IN_THE_HINT_O_HAIRST" id="vol5DOWIE_IN_THE_HINT_O_HAIRST"></a>DOWIE IN THE HINT O' HAIRST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its dowie in the hint o' hairst,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the wa'-gang o' the swallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wind grows cauld, and the burns grow bauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wuds are hingin' yellow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh, its dowier far to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wa-gang o' her the heart gangs wi',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead-set o' a shinin' e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That darkens the weary warld on thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_63" id="vol5Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was mickle love atween us twa—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, twa could ne'er be fonder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thing on yird was never made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That could hae gart us sunder.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the way of heaven's aboon a' ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we maun bear what it likes to sen'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's comfort, though, to weary men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's mony things that come and gae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just kent, and just forgotten;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flowers that busk a bonnie brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin anither year lie rotten.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the last look o' that lovely e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dying grip she gae to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're settled like eternitie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Mary! that I were wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5ON_WI_THE_TARTAN" id="vol5ON_WI_THE_TARTAN"></a>ON WI' THE TARTAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you lo'e, my dear lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills wild and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar' the sang o' the shepherd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gars a' ring wi' glee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the steep rocky glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild falcons bide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on wi' the tartan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, fy, let us ride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can ye lo'e the knowes, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ne'er war in rigs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the bonnie loune lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the sweet robin bigs?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_64" id="vol5Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or the sang o' the lintie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan wooin' his bride?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on wi' the tartan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, fy, let us ride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can ye lo'e the burn, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That loups amang linns?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the bonnie green howmes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where it cannilie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a cantie bit housie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae snug by its side?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on wi' the tartan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, fy, let us ride!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_ROVER_O_LOCHRYAN" id="vol5THE_ROVER_O_LOCHRYAN"></a>THE ROVER O' LOCHRYAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Rover o' Lochryan, he's gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' his merry men sae brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hearts are o' the steel, an' a better keel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er bowl'd owre the back o' a wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its no when the loch lies dead in his trough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When naething disturbs it ava;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the rack and the ride o' the restless tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the splash o' the gray sea-maw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its no when the yawl an' the light skiffs crawl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Owre the breast o' the siller sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I look to the west for the bark I lo'e best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the rover that's dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when that the clud lays its cheek to the flud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the sea lays its shouther to the shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the win' sings high, and the sea-whaup's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they rise frae the whitening roar.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_65" id="vol5Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its then that I look to the thickening rook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' watch by the midnight tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken the wind brings my rover hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the sea that he glories to ride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, merry he sits 'mang his jovial crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the helm heft in his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' he sings aloud to his boys in blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his e'e's upon Galloway's land:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Unstent and slack each reef an' tack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gae her sail, boys, while it may sit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has roar'd through a heavier sea afore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' she'll roar through a heavier yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When landsmen sleep, or wake an' creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the tempest's angry moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We dash through the drift, and sing to the lift<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' the wave that heaves us on."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_LAST_LOOK_O_HAME" id="vol5THE_LAST_LOOK_O_HAME"></a>THE LAST LOOK O' HAME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bare was our burn brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">December's blast had blawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last flower was dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the brown leaf had fa'n:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was dark in the deep glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hoary was our hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the win' frae the cauld north,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cam' heavy and chill:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I said fare-ye-weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my kith and my kin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My barque it lay ahead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' my cot-house ahin';<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_66" id="vol5Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I had nought left to tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd a wide warl' to try;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my heart it wadna lift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' my e'e it wadna dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look'd lang at the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the mist o' my tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the kind lassie lived,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I had run wi' for years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en the glens where we sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' their broom-covered knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took a haud on this heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I ne'er can unloose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae wander'd sin' syne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By gay temples and towers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the ungather'd spice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scents the breeze in their bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! sic scenes I could leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without pain or regret;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the last look o' hame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ne'er can forget.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_LADS_AN_THE_LAND_FAR_AWA" id="vol5THE_LADS_AN_THE_LAND_FAR_AWA"></a>THE LADS AN' THE LAND FAR AWA'.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'My ain fireside.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think on the lads an' the land I hae left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' how love has been lifted, an' friendship been reft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the hinnie o' hope has been jumbled wi' ga',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I sigh for the lads an' the land far awa'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_67" id="vol5Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think on the days o' delight we hae seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the flame o' the spirit would spark in the e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I say, as in sorrow I think on ye a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where will I find hearts like the hearts far awa?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think on the nights we hae spent hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' mirth for our sowther, and friendship our band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This world gets dark; but ilk night has a daw',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I yet may rejoice in the land far awa'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_BELL" id="vol5MY_BONNIE_WEE_BELL"></a>MY BONNIE WEE BELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My bonnie wee Bell was a mitherless bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her aunty was sour, an' her uncle was stern;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While her cousin was aft in a cankersome mood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that hinder'd na Bell growing bonnie and gude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we ran to the schule, I was aye by her han',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wyse off the busses, or help owre a stran';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' as aulder we grew, a' the neighbours could tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoo my liking grew wi' thee, my bonnie wee Bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy cousin gangs dinkit, thy cousin gangs drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her silks and her satins, the brawest and best;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the gloss o' a cheek, the glint o' an e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are jewels frae heaven, nae tocher can gie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some goud, an' some siller, my auld gutcher left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' in houses an' mailins I'll soon be infeft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've a vow in the heaven, I've an aith wi' thysel',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll make room in this world for thee, bonnie Bell.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_68" id="vol5Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_THOMSON" id="vol5WILLIAM_THOMSON"></a>WILLIAM THOMSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Paisley Advertiser</i>, and the favour with which they +were received induced him to offer some poetical compositions to the +<i>Fife Herald</i>, a newspaper which had just been established in the +capital of his native county. Under the signature of <i>Theta</i>, 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MAIDEN_TO_HER_REAPING_HOOK" id="vol5THE_MAIDEN_TO_HER_REAPING_HOOK"></a>THE MAIDEN TO HER REAPING HOOK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The soldier waves the shining sword, the shepherd boy his crook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boatman plies the splashing oar, but well I love the hook.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_69" id="vol5Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When swift I haste at sunny morn, unto the spreading plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And view before me, like a sea, the fields of golden grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listen to the cheerful sound of harvest's echoing horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or join the merry reaper band, that gather in the corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet the friendly welcoming, how gladsome every look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere we begin, with busy hands, to wield the Reaping Hook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Reaping Hook! my Reaping Hook! I love thee better far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than glancing spear and temper'd sword, bright instruments of war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thee I grasp with willing hand, and feel a reaper's glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, waving in the rustling breeze, the ripen'd field I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or listen to the harmless jest, the bandsman's cheerful song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hearty laugh, the rustic mirth, while mingling 'mid the throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy I see the well-fill'd sheaf, and mark each rising stook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thee I ply with agile arm, my trusty Reaping Hook!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell of glorious battle-fields, strew'd thick with heaps of slain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the triumphs of the sword bring only grief and pain;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_70" id="vol5Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But thou, my shining Reaping Hook, the symbol art of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill'st a thousand families with smiles and happiness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While conquering warrior's burning brand, amid his gory path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emblem is of pain and woe, of man's destructive wrath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon therefore may the spear give place unto the shepherd's crook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the conqueror's flaming sword be turn'd into a Reaping Hook!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_71" id="vol5Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_SMART" id="vol5ALEXANDER_SMART"></a>ALEXANDER SMART.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_72" id="vol5Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Montrose Chronicle</i>, a newspaper which was originated in his native +town, but which proved unsuccessful. He thereafter held an appointment +in the office of the <i>Dundee Courier</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>In his twentieth year Smart adventured on the composition of verses, but +being dissatisfied with his efforts, he consigned them to oblivion. He +subsequently re<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_73" id="vol5Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>newed 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Hogg's Instructor</i>. 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WHEN_THE_BEE_HAS_LEFT_THE_BLOSSOM" id="vol5WHEN_THE_BEE_HAS_LEFT_THE_BLOSSOM"></a>WHEN THE BEE HAS LEFT THE BLOSSOM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the bee has left the blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lark has closed his lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the daisy folds its bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the dews of gloaming gray;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_74" id="vol5Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the virgin rose is bending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wet with evening's pensive tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the purple light is blending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the soft moon rising clear;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meet me then, my own true maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild flowers shed their bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the air with fragrance laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathes around a rich perfume.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my true love as I wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Captive led by beauty's power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts and feelings sweet and tender<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hallow that delightful hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give ambition dreams of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give the poet laurell'd fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let renown in song and story<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Consecrate the hero's name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give the great their pomp and pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give the courtier place and power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give to me my bosom's treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lonely gloaming hour.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_LEAVE_ME_NOT" id="vol5OH_LEAVE_ME_NOT"></a>OH, LEAVE ME NOT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, leave me not! the evening hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So soft, so still, is all our own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew descends on tree and flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They breathe their sweets for thee alone.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_75" id="vol5Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, go not yet! the evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rising moon, all bid thee stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dying echoes, faint and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invite our lingering steps to stray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far from the city's noisy din,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the pale moon's trembling light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lip to press, those smiles to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will lend a rapture to the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let fortune fling her favours free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom she will, I'll ne'er repine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what is all the world to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While thus I clasp and call thee mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5NEVER_DESPAIR" id="vol5NEVER_DESPAIR"></a>NEVER DESPAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never despair! when the dark cloud is lowering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun, though obscured, never ceases to shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the black tempest his radiance is pouring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While faithless and faint-hearted mortals repine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The journey of life has its lights and its shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Heaven in its wisdom to each sends a share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rough be the road, yet with reason to guide us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And courage to conquer, we'll never despair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never despair! when with troubles contending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make labour and patience a sword and a shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And win brighter laurels, with courage unbending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than ever were gained on the blood-tainted field.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gay as the lark in the beam of the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When young hearts spring upward to do and to dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright star of promise their future adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will light them along, and they'll never despair!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_76" id="vol5Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The oak in the tempest grows strong by resistance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The arm at the anvil gains muscular power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And firm self-reliance, that seeks no assistance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Goes onward, rejoicing, through sunshine and shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For life is a struggle, to try and to prove us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And true hearts grow stronger by labour and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Hope, like a seraph, still whispers above us,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look upward and onward, and never despair!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_77" id="vol5Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_DUNLOP" id="vol5JOHN_DUNLOP"></a>JOHN DUNLOP.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_78" id="vol5Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_YEAR_THATS_AWA" id="vol5THE_YEAR_THATS_AWA"></a>THE YEAR THAT'S AWA'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's to the year that's awa'!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We will drink it in strong and in sma';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here's to ilk bonnie young lassie we lo'ed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While swift flew the year that's awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And here's to ilk, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's to the sodger who bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the sailor who bravely did fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fame is alive, though their spirits are fled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the wings of the year that's awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Their fame is alive, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's to the friends we can trust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the storms of adversity blaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May they live in our song, and be nearest our hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor depart like the year that's awa'.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">May they live, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_DINNA_ASK_ME" id="vol5OH_DINNA_ASK_ME"></a>OH, DINNA ASK ME.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>'Comin' through the rye.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Troth, I daurna tell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ask it o' yoursel'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_79" id="vol5Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna look sae sair at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For weel ye ken me true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin ye look sae sair at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I daurna look at you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When ye gang to yon braw, braw town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bonnie lassies see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna, Jamie, look at them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest you should mind na me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For I could never bide the lass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ye'd lo'e mair than me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, I'm sure, my heart would break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye'd prove false to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LOVE_FLIES_THE_HAUNTS_OF_POMP_AND_POWER9" id="vol5LOVE_FLIES_THE_HAUNTS_OF_POMP_AND_POWER9"></a>LOVE FLIES THE HAUNTS OF POMP AND POWER<a name="vol5FNanchor_9_9" id="vol5FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love flies the haunts of pomp and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find the calm retreat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loathing he leaves the velvet couch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek the moss-grown seat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Splendid attire and gilded crowns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can ne'er with love accord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But russet robes, and rosy wreathes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His purest joys afford.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From pride, from business, and from care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His greatest sorrows flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When these usurp the heart of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heart he ne'er can know.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_80" id="vol5Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WAR" id="vol5WAR"></a>WAR.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>'Where they go, where they go.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For twenty years and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bloody war,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bloody war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For twenty years and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bloody war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For twenty years and more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We heard the cannons roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell the tide of gore,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bloody war!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tyrant on a throne<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We have seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tyrant on a throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thought the earth his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now is hardly known<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who rung the loud alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To be free,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To be free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rung the loud alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To be free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas Britain broke the charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her red right arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She rung the loud alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To be free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The battle van she led<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the brave;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_81" id="vol5Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The battle van she led<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The battle van she led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till tyranny lay dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glory crown'd the head<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the brave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give honour to the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where they lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give honour to the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where they lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give honour to the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sacred be the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On land or in the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where they lie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_82" id="vol5Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_BLAIR" id="vol5WILLIAM_BLAIR"></a>WILLIAM BLAIR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_HIGHLAND_MAID" id="vol5THE_HIGHLAND_MAID"></a>THE HIGHLAND MAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again the laverock seeks the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warbles, dimly seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer views, wi' sunny joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her gowany robe o' green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! the summer's blithe return,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In flowery pride array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair can cheer this heart forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or charm the Highland Maid.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_83" id="vol5Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My true love fell by Charlie's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' mony a clansman dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fatal day—oh, wae betide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cruel Southron's spear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bonnet blue is fallen now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bluidy is the plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aften on the mountain's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has wrapt his Highland Maid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father's shieling on the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is dowie now and sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breezes whisper round me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've lost my Highland lad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon Culloden's fatal heath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He spake o' me, they said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And falter'd, wi' his dying breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Adieu, my Highland Maid!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weary nicht for rest I seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The langsome day I mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smile upon my wither'd cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never mair return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon beneath the sod I 'll lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yonder lonely glade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, haply, ilka passer by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will mourn the Highland Maid.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_84" id="vol5Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_NEAPOLITAN_WAR_SONG10" id="vol5THE_NEAPOLITAN_WAR_SONG10"></a>THE NEAPOLITAN WAR SONG.<a name="vol5FNanchor_10_10" id="vol5FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>"Brian the Brave."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon, soon will emblazon your plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! may the arm of the brave be your shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the song of the victory your strain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember the fetters and chains that are wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fated by slavery's decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not like the fetters of union and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bind and encircle the free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though rich be your fields, they will blight in their bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the glow of the patriot's fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sun that now gladdens, shall sink into gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grow dark when your freedom expires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be yours, then, the triumph to brave ones that 's meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your country, with laurels in store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each weary and toil-worn warrior will greet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the tumult of battle is o'er.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_85" id="vol5Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ARCHIBALD_MACKAY" id="vol5ARCHIBALD_MACKAY"></a>ARCHIBALD MACKAY.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OUR_AULD_SCOTS_SANGS" id="vol5OUR_AULD_SCOTS_SANGS"></a>OUR AULD SCOTS SANGS.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Traveller's Return."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mournfu' and the gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They charm'd me by a mither's knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bairnhood's happy day:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_86" id="vol5Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And even yet, though owre my pow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The snaws of age are flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bluid loups joyfu' in my veins<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er I hear them sung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They bring the fond smile to the cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or tear-drap to the e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bring to mind auld cronies kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha sung them aft wi' glee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We seem again to hear the voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mony a lang-lost frien';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We seem again to grip the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lang in dust has been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, oh, how true our auld Scots sangs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nature they portray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We think we hear the wee bit burn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gaun bickering doun the brae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see the spot, though far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where first life's breath we drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the gowden scenes of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem rising to the view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dear I lo'e the wild war strains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our langsyne minstrels sung—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rouse wi' patriotic fires<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hearts of auld and young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even the dowie dirge that wails<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some brave but ruin'd band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inspires us wi' a warmer love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hame and fatherland.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, leese me on our auld Scots sangs—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sangs of love and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sangs that tell of glorious deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That made auld Scotland free.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_87" id="vol5Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What though they sprung frae simple bards,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha kent nae rules of art?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ever, ever yield a charm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lingers round the heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_LADDIE_LIES_LOW" id="vol5MY_LADDIE_LIES_LOW"></a>MY LADDIE LIES LOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! how true the boding voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That whisper'd aft to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy bonnie lad will ne'er return<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Scotland or to thee!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! true it spoke, though hope the while<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed forth its brightest beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For low in death my laddie lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Alma's bloody stream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard the village bells proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glorious deeds were done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard wi' joy the gladsome shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"The field, the field is won!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I thought my lad, wi' glory crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might come to me again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vain the thought! cold, cold he lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Alma's gory plain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! woe to him whose thirst for power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has roll'd the bolts of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made my laddie bleed and die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae hame and friends afar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! his form I ne'er shall see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except in fancy's dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For low he lies, where brave he fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Alma's bloody stream.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_88" id="vol5Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5JOUK_AND_LET_THE_JAW_GAE_BY" id="vol5JOUK_AND_LET_THE_JAW_GAE_BY"></a>JOUK AND LET THE JAW GAE BY.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Jockie's Gray Breeks."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! say not life is ever drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For midst its scenes of toil and care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's aye some joy the heart to cheer—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's aye some spot that 's green and fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gain that spot the aim be ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For nocht we 'll get unless we try;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when misfortune round us lours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wee bit flow'ret in the glen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maun bend beneath the surly blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdie seeks some leafy den,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shelters till the storm is past:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The "owrie sheep," when winds blaw snell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To some lowne spot for refuge hie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sae, frae ills we canna quell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet there are ills we a' should brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ills that man on man would throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! he 's but a thowless slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That patient bears Oppression's woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if 'tis but the taunts of pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of envy's tongue that would annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis nobler far to turn aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And jouk and let the jaw gae by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In worldly gear we may be bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We may hae mony a dreary hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never, never nurse despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ilka ane maun taste the sour:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_89" id="vol5Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Even kings themsels, wi' a' their power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' their pomp and honours high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath adverse blasts are forced to cower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And jouk to let the jaw gae by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But mark this truth—the ills that blight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are aft the fruits that folly brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shun the wrong, pursue the right—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae this the truest pleasure springs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fret not though dark clouds should spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At times across life's troubled sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet sunshine will the gloom succeed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae jouk and let the jaw gae by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5VICTORIOUS_BE_AGAIN_BOYS" id="vol5VICTORIOUS_BE_AGAIN_BOYS"></a>VICTORIOUS BE AGAIN, BOYS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! we 've glory won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brighter blazes freedom's sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But daring deeds must yet be done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To curb Oppression's reign, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like wintry clouds in masses roll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our foes are thick'ning on the wold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then up! then up! be firm—be bold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Victorious be again, boys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hearts—the blessings of the brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those who scorn the name of slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are with you on the ocean's wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the battle-plain, boys:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rouse ye, rouse ye, every one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gird your brightest armour on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Complete the work so well begun—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Victorious be again, boys!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_90" id="vol5Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though red with gore your path may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It leads to glorious liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember, God is with the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brave He will sustain, boys:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyrant fears the coming fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fears the power of Truth and Right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then up! then up! in all your might—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Victorious be again, boys.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_91" id="vol5Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_AIR_FOSTER" id="vol5WILLIAM_AIR_FOSTER"></a>WILLIAM AIR FOSTER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTIA" id="vol5FAREWEEL_TO_SCOTIA"></a>FAREWEEL TO SCOTIA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel to ilk hill whar the red heather grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ilk bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the graves o' my sires, and the hearths o' my kin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fareweel to ilk strath an' the lav'rock's sweet sang—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For trifles grow dear whan we 've kenn'd them sae lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the wanderer's heart a bright halo they shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream o' the past, when a' other's hae fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The young hearts may kythe, though they 're forced far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its dool to the spirit when haffets are gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The saplin transplanted may flourish a tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar the hardy auld aik wad but wither and dee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_92" id="vol5Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me I gang whar the tropic suns shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Owre landscapes as lovely and fragrant as thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the objects sae dear that the heart had entwined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn eerisome hame-thoughts, and sicken the mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, my spirit shall stray whar the red heather grows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang the graves o' my sires, round the hearths o' my kin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_FALCONS_FLIGHT" id="vol5THE_FALCONS_FLIGHT"></a>THE FALCON'S FLIGHT.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"There 's nae luck about the house."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sing of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the spaniel at my side and the falcon on my glove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the noble bird which graced my hand I feel my spirit swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Array'd in all her hunting-gear—hood, jessy, leash, and bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have watch'd her through the moult, till her castings all were pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have steep'd and clean'd each gorge ere 'twas fix'd upon the lure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While now to field or forest glade I can my falcon bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a pile of feather wrong, on body, breast, or wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When drawn the leash, and slipt the hood, her eye beams black and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my hand the gallant bird is cast upon her flight;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_93" id="vol5Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Away she darts, on pinions free, above the mountains far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until in less'ning size she seems no bigger than a star.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away, away, in farthest flight I feel no fear or dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a whistle or a whoop brings her tow'ring o'er my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While poised on moveless wing, from her voice a murmur swells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speak her presence near, above the chiming from her bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis Rover's bark—halloo! see the broad-wing'd heron rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soaring round my falcon queen, above her quarry flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With outstretch'd neck the wary game shoots for the covert nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But o'er him for a settled stoop my hawk is tow'ring high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My falcon 's tow'ring o'er him with an eye of fire and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pinions strong, with one short pull, are gather'd to her side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When like a stone from off the sling, or bolt from out the bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In meteor flight, with sudden dart, she stoops upon her foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vanquish'd and the vanquisher sink rolling round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wounded wing the quarried game falls heavy on the ground.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_94" id="vol5Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Away, away, my falcon fair has spread her buoyant wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the ear her silver voice as clear as metal rings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though high her soar, and far her flight, my whoop has struck her ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reclaiming for the lure, o'er my head she sallies near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other sport like falconry can make the bosom glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When flying at the stately game, or raking at the crow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who mews a hawk must nurse her as a mother would her child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothe the wayward spirit of a thing so fierce and wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must woo her like a bride, while with love his bosom swells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the noble bird that bears the hood, the jessy, leash, and bells.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SALMON_RUN" id="vol5THE_SALMON_RUN"></a>THE SALMON RUN.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"The brave old Oak."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh! away to the Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the beautiful Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My much-loved native stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the fish from his hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath some cataract bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starts up like a quivering gleam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">From his iron-bound keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far down in the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He holds on his sovereign sway;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_95" id="vol5Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Or darts like a lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the meteor's glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar on his bright-wing'd prey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">As he roves through the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then his clear glitt'ring side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is burnish'd with silver and gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the sweep of his flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems a rainbow of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As again he sinks down in his hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">With a soft western breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That just thrills through the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ripples the beautiful bay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throw the fly for a lure—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That 's a rise! strike him sure—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A clean fish—with a burst he 's away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hark! the ravel line sweel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the fast-whirring reel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a music that gladdens the ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the thrill of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that glorious fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the heart of the angler is dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hold him tight—for the leap;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the waters are deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give out line in the far steady run;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reel up quick, if he tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the wheel be on fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in earnest to work he 's begun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Aroused up at length,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How he rolls in his strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And springs with a quivering bound;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_96" id="vol5Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Then away with a dash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the lightning's flash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far o'er the smooth pebbly ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Though he strain on the thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down the stream with his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burst from the run makes him cool;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then spring out for the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the rod change the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And draw down for the deepening pool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Mark the gleam of his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he shoots through the tide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the dyes of the dolphin more fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fatigue now begins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his quivering fins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the shallows are spread in despair.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_97" id="vol5Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5CHARLES_MARSHALL" id="vol5CHARLES_MARSHALL"></a>CHARLES MARSHALL.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 publica<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_98" id="vol5Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>tion, 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 <i>brochures</i> are without a parallel. Mr Marshall +proposes to add to the series two other parts, addressed to "Husbands +and Fathers," and to "Young Men."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BLESSING_ON_THE_WARK" id="vol5THE_BLESSING_ON_THE_WARK"></a>THE BLESSING ON THE WARK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like to spring in the morning bricht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the mill bell rings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When waukening blithe in gowden licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My joyfu' spirit sings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like to hear, when the pearly tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gems morning's floweret cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trumpet summons of chanticleer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pipe "drowsy mortals up."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I tread as lightly as silent puss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While a' the household sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gird me to clean and redd the house<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the bairnies cheep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like to dress and mak me clean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ony winsome bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think na shame, though my face be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At morn or eventide.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_99" id="vol5Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like to handle, before I rin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The word o' truth and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek, or the daily wark begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gude counsel from above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then skipping wi' lichtsome heart, I hie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To earn my bit o' bread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wark spins on, and the time rins by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' pleasant, blessed speed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5JEWEL_OF_A_LAD" id="vol5JEWEL_OF_A_LAD"></a>JEWEL OF A LAD.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Fye, gae rub her owre wi' strae."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As sunshine to the flowers in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As wild flowers to the hinny bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fragrant scent o' new mown hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So my true love is sweet to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As costly jewels to the bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As beauty to the bridegroom's e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sailors, as fair wind and tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So my true love is dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As rain-draps to the thirsty earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As waters to the willow-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mother's joy at baby's birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So my true love is dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though owning neither wealth nor lan',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's ane o' Heaven's pedigree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His love to God, his love to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His goodness makes him dear to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_100" id="vol5Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lass that weds a warly fool<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May laugh, and sing, and dance a wee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But earthly love soon waxes cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foolish fancies turn ajee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My laddie's heart is fu' o' grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His loving e'e blinks bonnily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heavenly licht illumes his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae wonder though he 's dear to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5TWILIGHT_JOYS" id="vol5TWILIGHT_JOYS"></a>TWILIGHT JOYS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Musing, we sat in our garden bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the balmy month of June,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enjoying the pensive gloamin' hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our daily task was done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We spake of the friends of our early days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some living, some dead and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy skimm'd o'er the flow'ry braes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our morning life again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bless'd, a lightsome hour was that,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joyful were we to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunny face of ilk bonnie brat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So full of frolicsome glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They ran, they row'd, they warsl'd, they fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whiles whirl'd in a fairy ring—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts ran o'er like a gushing well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we bless'd each happy thing.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_101" id="vol5Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In our wee dwelling the lamp of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trimm'd daily by faith and prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flings light on earth, on heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sheds glory everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This golden lamp shines clear and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the world looks dark and doure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It brightens our morning, noon, and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gladdens our gloamin' hour.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_102" id="vol5Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_WILSON" id="vol5WILLIAM_WILSON"></a>WILLIAM WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>; and +he has published several of his own and other songs, with music of his +own composition.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5O_BLESSING_ON_HER_STARLIKE_EEN" id="vol5O_BLESSING_ON_HER_STARLIKE_EEN"></a>O BLESSING ON HER STARLIKE E'EN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blessing on her starlike e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' their glance o' love divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blessing on the red, red lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was press'd yestreen to mine!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_103" id="vol5Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her braided locks that waved sae light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As she danced through the lofty ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were like the cluds on the brow o' night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the wing o' the hoodie craw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O mony a jimp an' gentle dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In jewell'd pomp was there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she was first among them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In peerless beauty rare!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her bosom is a holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unstain'd by mortal sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' spotless as the snaw-white foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the breast o' the siller linn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her voice—hae ye heard the goudspink's note,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By bowery glen or brake?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or listen'd ye e'er to the mermaid's lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By sea or mountain lake?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hae ye dreamt ye heard, i' the bowers o' heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The angel's melodie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fancied ye listen'd the sang o' the spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they swung on their path on hie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far sweeter to me was her lay o' love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the gloamin' hour yestreen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', oh! were I king o' the warld wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would mak' that maiden my queen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_104" id="vol5Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_BLESSING_ON_THEE_LAND" id="vol5OH_BLESSING_ON_THEE_LAND"></a>OH! BLESSING ON THEE, LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! blessing on thee, land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love and minstrel song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Freedom found a dwelling-place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy mountain cliffs among!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still she loves to roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among thy heath-clad hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blend her wild-wood harp's sweet strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the voice of mountain rills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her song is on the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her step upon the wold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And morning diamonds brightly gem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her braided locks of gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far up the pine-wood glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her sylph-like form is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By hunter in the hazy dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wandering bard at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My own dear native home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birthplace of the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O never may thy soil be trod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By tyrant or by slave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, blessing on thee, land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love and minstrel song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Freedom found a dwelling-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy mountain cliffs among!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_105" id="vol5Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_FAITHLESS" id="vol5THE_FAITHLESS"></a>THE FAITHLESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We part,—yet wherefore should I weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From faithless thing like thee to sever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or let one tear mine eyelids steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While thus I cast thee off for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I loved thee—need I say how well?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Few, few have ever loved so dearly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many a sleepless hour can tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a vow breath'd too sincerely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But late, beneath its jetty lash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I loved to mark thy blue eyes' splendour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wont, all witchingly, to flash<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On me its light so soft and tender;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, from that glance I turn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if its thrilling gaze could wound me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though not, as once, in love's young day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thoughtless passion's fetters bound me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dimpling smile, with sweetness fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bosom, 'mid its snow, upheaving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, that had seen them, could have thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That things so fair could be deceiving?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon, the sky, the wave, the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all their fitful moods of changing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are nought to wavering woman's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever shifting, ever ranging!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! I'd rather launch my bark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the angry ocean billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid wintry winds, and tempests dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than make thy faithless breast my pillow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_106" id="vol5Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy broken vow now cannot bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy streaming tears no more can move me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I turn from thee, to find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heart that may more truly love me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_SOUL_IS_EVER_WITH_THEE" id="vol5MY_SOUL_IS_EVER_WITH_THEE"></a>MY SOUL IS EVER WITH THEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul is ever with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts are ever with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the flower to the sun, as the lamb to the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So turns my fond spirit to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid the cares of the lingering day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When troubles around me be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond Fancy for aye will be flitting away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away, my beloved, to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the night-pall darkly spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er shadows, tower, and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the visions of my restless bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are all, my beloved, of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I greet the morning beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the midnight star I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone—in crowded halls—my dreams—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dreams are for ever of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As spring to the leafless spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As calm to the surging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the weary, rest—to the watcher, day—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So art thou, loved Mary, to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_107" id="vol5Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5AULD_JOHNNY_GRAHAM" id="vol5AULD_JOHNNY_GRAHAM"></a>AULD JOHNNY GRAHAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The carle sae pawkie an' slee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wants a bit wifie to tend his bein hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the body has ettled at me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' bonnet sae vaunty, an owerlay sae clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ribbon that waved 'boon his bree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cam' doun the cleugh at the gloamin' yestreen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' rappit, an' soon speert for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I bade him come ben whare my minny sae thrang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was birlin' her wheel eidentlie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', foul fa' the carle, he was na' that lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere he tauld out his errand to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hech, Tibby, lass! a' yon braid acres o' land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' ripe craps that wave bonnilie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' meikle mair gear shall be at yer command,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin' ye will look kindly on me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yon herd o' fat owsen that rout i' the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sax naigies that nibble the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kye i' the sheugh, and the sheep i' the pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'se gie a', dear Tibby, to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An', lassie, I've goupins o' gowd in a stockin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' pearlin's wad dazzle yer e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mettl'd, but canny young yaud, for the yokin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When ye wad gae jauntin' wi' me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_108" id="vol5Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'll hap ye, and fend ye, and busk ye, and tend ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak' ye the licht o' my e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll comfort and cheer ye, and daut ye and dear ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As couthy as couthy can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 've lo'ed ye, dear lassie, since first, a bit bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye ran up the knowe to meet me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' deckit my bonnet wi' blue bells an' fern,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' meikle glad laughin' an' glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An' noo woman grown, an' mensefu', an' fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' gracefu' as gracefu' can be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ye tak' an' auld carle wha ne'er had a care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For woman, dear Tibby, but thee?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae, Aunty, ye see I 'm a' in a swither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What answer the bodie to gie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aften I wish he wad tak' my auld mither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let puir young Tibby abee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5JEAN_LINN" id="vol5JEAN_LINN"></a>JEAN LINN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days that hae been, may be yet again seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae look na sae lightly on me, ma doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae look na' sae lightly on me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray, Jean Linn!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yer gutcher an mine wad thocht themsels fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May, bonnie May—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_109" id="vol5Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye mind when we won in Whinglen, Jean Linn—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye mind when we won in Whinglen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your daddy, douce carle, was cotter to mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then, Jean Linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, then ye were a' thing to me, Jean Linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, then ye were a' thing to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the moments scour'd by, like birds through the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When tentin' the owsen wi' thee, Jean Linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When tentin' the owsen wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I twined ye a bower by the burn, Jean Linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I twined ye a bower by the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dreamt na that hour, as we sat in that bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fortune wad tak' sic a turn, Jean Linn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fortune wad tak' sic a turn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw, Jean Linn!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yer daddy's a laird, mine 's i' the kirkyard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law, Jean Linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5BONNIE_MARY" id="vol5BONNIE_MARY"></a>BONNIE MARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll row my apron up, an' I 'll leave the reeky town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_110" id="vol5Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the burnie there 's a bower, we will gently lean us there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' forget in ither's arms every earthly care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the chiefest o' my joys, in this weary mortal roun',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the burnside wi' Mary when the sun gaes down.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When the sun gaes down, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the ruin'd castle tower on the distant steep appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a hoary auld warrior faded with years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the burnie stealing by wi' a fairy silver soun',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will soothe us wi' its music when the sun gaes down.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When the sun gaes down, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The burnside is sweet when the dew is on the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'tis like a little heaven at the trystin' hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with pity I would look on the king who wears the crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wi' thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When the sun gaes down, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come in thy petticoatie, and thy little drugget gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_111" id="vol5Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5MRS_MARY_MACARTHUR" id="vol5MRS_MARY_MACARTHUR"></a>MRS MARY MACARTHUR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MISSIONARY" id="vol5THE_MISSIONARY"></a>THE MISSIONARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left his native land, and, far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the waters sought a world unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though well he knew that he in vain might stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In search of one so lovely as his own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left his home, around whose humble hearth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His parents, kindred, all he valued, smil'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends who had known and loved him from his birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And who still loved him as a fav'rite child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left the scenes by youthful hopes endear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woods, the streams, that sooth'd his infant ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plants, the trees that he himself had rear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every charm to love and fancy dear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_112" id="vol5Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All these he left, with sad but willing heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though unallur'd by honours, wealth, or fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In them not even his wishes claim'd a part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the world knew not of his very name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Canst thou not guess what taught his steps to stray?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas love, but not such love as worldlings own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That often smiles its sweetest to betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stabs the breast that offered it a throne!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas love to God, and love to all mankind!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His Master bade the obedient servant go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try if he in distant realms could find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some who His name and saving grace would know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas this that nerved him when he saw the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His aged mother at their parting shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas this that taught her how to calm her fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And beg a heavenly blessing on his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas this that made his father calmly bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A godly sorrow, deep, but undismay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade him humbly ask of God in prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His virtuous son to counsel, guide, and aid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when he rose to bless, and wish him well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bent a head with age and sorrow gray—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en when he breath'd a fond and last farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half sad, half joyful, dashed his tears away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And go," he said, "though I with mortal eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ne'er behold thy filial reverence more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when from earth to heaven our spirits rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Hand that gave him shall my child restore.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_113" id="vol5Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I bid thee go, though human tears will steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From eyes that see the course thou hast to run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God forgive me if I wrongly feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Abraham call'd to sacrifice his son!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he is gone, with ardent steps he prest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the hills to where the vessel lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon I ween upon the ocean's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They saw the white sails bearing him away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And did he go unfriended, poor, alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did none of those who, in a favour'd land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shelter of the gospel tree had known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Desire to see its peaceful shade expand?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not for me to answer questions here—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let ev'ry heart its own responses give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those to whom their fellow-men are dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bestow the bread by which their souls may live!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_114" id="vol5Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_RAMSAY" id="vol5JOHN_RAMSAY"></a>JOHN RAMSAY.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>; 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5FAREWELL_TO_CRAUFURDLAND" id="vol5FAREWELL_TO_CRAUFURDLAND"></a>FAREWELL TO CRAUFURDLAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By foliage oft hid from the bright eye of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've view'd thee with pleasure, but now must with pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell! for I never may see you again.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_115" id="vol5Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye woods, whence fond fancy a spirit would bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That trimm'd the bright pinions of thought's hallow'd wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your beauties will gladden some happier swain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell! for I never may see you again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've roam'd you, unknown to care's life-sapping sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When prospects seem'd fair and my young hopes were high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These prospects were false, and those hopes have proved vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell! for I never may see you again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon distance shall bid my reft heart undergo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those pangs that alone the poor exile can know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away! like a craven why should I complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell! for I never may see you again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_116" id="vol5Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JAMES_PARKER" id="vol5JAMES_PARKER"></a>JAMES PARKER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MARINERS_SONG" id="vol5THE_MARINERS_SONG"></a>THE MARINER'S SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh merrily and gallantly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We sweep across the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the wild ocean birds which ply<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their pinions on the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We quail not at the tempest's voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the billow dashes o'er us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firm as a rock, we bear the shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And join its dreadful chorus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Across the foaming surge we glide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With bosoms true and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is our home—our throne of pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It soon may be our grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fearlessly we rush to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foe that comes before us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fight begun, we man the gun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And join its thundering chorus.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_117" id="vol5Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our lives may be as fierce and free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the waves o'er which we roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let not landsmen think that we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forget our native home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the winds shall waft us back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the shores from which they bore us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the throng of mirth and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We'll join the jovial chorus.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HER_LIP_IS_O_THE_ROSES_HUE" id="vol5HER_LIP_IS_O_THE_ROSES_HUE"></a>HER LIP IS O' THE ROSE'S HUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lip is o' the rose's hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like links o' goud her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her e'e is o' the azure blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' love beams ever there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her step is like the mountain goat's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That climbs the stately Ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice sweet as the mavis' notes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That haunt her native glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a sweet wee hazel bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where woodbine blossoms twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Jeanie, ae auspicious hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Consented to be mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' there we meet whene'er we hae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An idle hour to spen',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Jeanie ne'er has rued the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She met me in the glen.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_118" id="vol5Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh bricht, bricht are the evenin' beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sweet the pearly dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lovely is the star that gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gloamin's dusky brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brichter, sweeter, lovelier far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon a' human ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is my sweet pearl—my lovely star—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Jeanie o' the glen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_119" id="vol5Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_HUNTER" id="vol5JOHN_HUNTER"></a>JOHN HUNTER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BOWER_O_CLYDE" id="vol5THE_BOWER_O_CLYDE"></a>THE BOWER O' CLYDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ane dame of wondrous courtesie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' bonny was the kindly flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That stremit frae her saft blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her saft blue e'e, 'mid the hinney dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That meltit to its tender licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was bonnier far than the purest starre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sails thro' the dark blue hevin at nicht.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If ony culd luke and safely see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her dimplit cheek, and her bonny red mou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor seek to sip the dew frae her lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lifeless lump was he, I trow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it wuld haif saften'd the dullest wicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If ae moment that wicht might see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bonny breast o' the purest snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That heavit wi' luve sae tenderlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_120" id="vol5Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' dear, dear was this bonny dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear, dear was she to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' my heart was tane, an' my sense was gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At ae blink o' her bonny blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' sair an' saft I pleadit my luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho' still she hardly wuld seem to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' wuld cauldly blame the words o' flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I breathit so warmly in her ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet aye as she turn'd her frae my look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thair was kindness beamit in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye as she drew back her lily han',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I faund that it tremblit tenderlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the time sune cam, the waesome time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I maun awa frae my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! that thocht, how aften it brocht<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deep-heavit sigh an' the cauld bitter tear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then socht I my luve, her cauld heart to muve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my tears, an' my sighs, an' my prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I gaed by her side doun the banks o' the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the hours stal awa unawares.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a still summer nicht, at the fa'ing o' licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the gloamin's saft an' schadowie hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' we wander'd alane till the daylicht was gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' we cam' to a sweet simmer bour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mune was up i' the clear blue skye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mune an' her single wee starre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds gaed gently whisperin' bye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thair was stillness near an' farre.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_121" id="vol5Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alane we sat i' the green summer bour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I tauld her a' that was kind and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' she did na blame the words o' flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I breathit sae warmly in her ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She listenit to the luve-sang warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her breast it throbbit and heavit high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She culd hear nae mair, but her gentill arm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lean't upon mine, wi' a tender sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then warmly I prest wi' my burning lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae kiss on her bonny red mow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aften I prest her form to my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fondly an' warmly I vowit to be true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' oh! that hour, that hallowit hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fond heart will never forget;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though drear is the dule I haif suffer'd sin syne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hour gars my heart beat warmly yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The parting time cam, an' the parting time past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' it past nae without the saut tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' awa' to anither an' farre awa' land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I gaed, an' I left my ain dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gaed, an' though ither and brichter maids<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wuld smile wi' fond luve i' their e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I but thocht o' the sweet green hour by the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' that thocht was enough for me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_122" id="vol5Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MARY" id="vol5MARY"></a>MARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is on my breast reclining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while these arms around thy form<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are fondly thus entwining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems as if no earthly power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our beating hearts could sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that in ecstasy of bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We thus could hang for ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet ah! too well, too well we know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fiat fate hath spoken—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spell that bound our souls in one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The world's cold breath hath broken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours—the days—whose heavenly light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath beam'd in beauty o'er us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love his sunshine shed around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And strew'd his flowers before us,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must now be but as golden dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose loveliness hath perish'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild dreams of hope, in human hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too heavenly to be cherish'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, oh! where'er our lot is cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love that once hath bound us—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought that looks to days long past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will breathe a halo round us.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_123" id="vol5Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5IN_DISTANT_YEARS" id="vol5IN_DISTANT_YEARS"></a>IN DISTANT YEARS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In distant years! when other arms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around thy form are prest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! heave one fond regretful sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For him thy love once blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! drop one tear from that dark eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That was his guiding light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cast the same deep tender glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thrills his soul to-night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oh! believe, though dark his fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And devious his career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of that gentle voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will tremble in his ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathing o'er his troubled soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Storm-tost and tempest riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will still fierce passion's wild control,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And win him back to Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_124" id="vol5Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ROBERT_CHAMBERS" id="vol5ROBERT_CHAMBERS"></a>ROBERT CHAMBERS.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_125" id="vol5Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> 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 <i>Chambers's Edinburgh Journal</i> +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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_126" id="vol5Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5YOUNG_RANDAL" id="vol5YOUNG_RANDAL"></a>YOUNG RANDAL.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>'There grows a bonnie brier bush.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas in the sixteen hundred year o' grace and thritty-twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Randal, the laird's youngest son, gaed awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was to seek his fortune in the High Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fecht the foreign loons in the High Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he left his father's tower o' sweet Willanslee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And monie mae friends in the North Countrie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left his mother in her bower, his father in the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His brother at the outer yett, but and his sisters twa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his bonnie cousin Jean, that look'd owre the castle wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, mair than a' the lave, loot the tears down fa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, whan will ye be back," sae kindly did she speir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, whan will ye be back, my hinny and my dear?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Whenever I can win eneuch o' Spanish gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dress ye out in pearlins and silks, my dear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Randal's hair was coal-black when he gaed awa'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Randal's cheeks were roses red when he gaed awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his bonnie e'e, a spark glintit high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the merrie, merrie look in the morning sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Randal was an altert man whan he came hame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sair altert man was he when he came hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a ribbon at his breast, and a Sir at his name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gray, gray cheeks did Randal come hame.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_127" id="vol5Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He lichtit at the outer yett, and rispit with the ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down came a ladye to see him come in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after the ladye came bairns feifteen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Can this muckle wife be my true love Jean?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whatna stoure carl is this," quo' the dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sae gruff and sae grand, and sae feckless and sae lame?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, tell me, fair madam, are ye bonnie Jeanie Graham?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In troth," quo' the ladye, "sweet sir, the very same."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He turned him about wi' a waefu' e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a heart as sair as sair could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lap on his horse, and awa' did wildly flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never mair came back to sweet Willanslee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dule on the poortith o' this countrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dule on the wars o' the High Germanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dule on the love that forgetfu' can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they 've wreck'd the bravest heart in this hale countrie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_LADYE_THAT_I_LOVE" id="vol5THE_LADYE_THAT_I_LOVE"></a>THE LADYE THAT I LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I a doughty cavalier<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fire for high-born dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sword and lance I would not fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To win a warrior's fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since no more stern deeds of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gentle fair may move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll woo in softer better mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ladye that I love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_128" id="vol5Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For helmet bright with steel and gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And plumes that flout the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll wear a soul of hardier mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thoughts that sweep as high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For scarf athwart my corslet cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her fair name y-wove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll have her pictured in my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ladye that I love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No crested steed through battle throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall bear me bravely on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pride shall make my spirit strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where honours may be won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the great of mind and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My prowess I will prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I 'll win, by gentler art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ladye that I love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THOU_GENTLE_AND_KIND_ONE" id="vol5THOU_GENTLE_AND_KIND_ONE"></a>THOU GENTLE AND KIND ONE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou gentle and kind one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who com'st o'er my dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the gales of the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the music of streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, softest and dearest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can that time e'er be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I could be forgetful<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or scornful of thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! my soul might be dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a landscape in shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for thee not the half<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its love be display'd,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_129" id="vol5Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But one ray of thy kindness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would banish my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon kiss every feature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To brightness again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if, in contending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With men and the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eye might be fierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or my brow might be curl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brow on thy bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All smooth'd would recline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that eye melt in kindness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When turn'd upon thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If faithful in sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More faithful in joy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shouldst find that no change<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could affection destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All profit, all pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As nothing would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each triumph despised<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unpartaken by thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LAMENT_FOR_THE_OLD_HIGHLAND_WARRIORS" id="vol5LAMENT_FOR_THE_OLD_HIGHLAND_WARRIORS"></a>LAMENT FOR THE OLD HIGHLAND WARRIORS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, where are the pretty men of yore?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, where are the brave men gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where are the heroes of the north?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each under his own gray stone.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_130" id="vol5Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where now the broad bright claymore?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, where are the trews and plaid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, where now the merry Highland heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In silence for ever laid.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Och on a rie, och on a rie,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Och on a rie, all are gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Och on a rie, the heroes of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Each under his own gray stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The chiefs that were foremost of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Macdonald and brave Lochiel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gordon, the Murray, and the Graham,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their clansmen true as steel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who follow'd and fought with Montrose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glencairn, and bold Dundee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who to Charlie gave their swords and their all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And would aye rather fa' than flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Och on a rie, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hills that our brave fathers trod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are now to the stranger a store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of the pipe and the bard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall awaken never more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such things it is sad to think on—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They come like the mist by day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I wish I had less in this world to leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be with them that are away.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Och on a rie, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_131" id="vol5Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5THOMAS_AIRD" id="vol5THOMAS_AIRD"></a>THOMAS AIRD.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, and other periodicals, he was, in 1835, on the +recommendation of his steadfast friend Professor Wilson, appointed +editor of the <i>Dumfries Herald</i>, 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 <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>), 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_132" id="vol5Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SWALLOW" id="vol5THE_SWALLOW"></a>THE SWALLOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The little comer 's coming, the comer o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The comer of the summer, all the sunny days to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How pleasant, through the pleasant sleep, thy early twitter heard—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, swallow by the lattice! glad days be thy reward!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine be sweet morning, with the bee that 's out for honey-dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glowing be the noontide, for the grasshopper and you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mellow shine, o'er days' decline, the sun to light thee home—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can molest thy airy nest? Sleep till the morrow come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river blue, that lapses through the valley, hears thee sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And murmurs much beneath the touch of thy light-dipping wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thunder-cloud, over us bow'd, in deeper gloom is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When quick relieved it glances to thy bosom's silvery sheen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silent power that brings thee back, with leading-strings of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To haunts where first the summer sun fell on thee from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bind thee more to come aye to the music of our leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here thy young, where thou hast sprung, shall glad thee in our eaves.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_133" id="vol5Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5GENIUS" id="vol5GENIUS"></a>GENIUS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eye of the brain and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Genius, inner sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wonders from thee familiar start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy decisive light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide and deep the eye must go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The process of our world to know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old mountains grated to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sow the young seed of isles to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">States dissolve, that Nature's plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May bear the broadening type of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passes ne'er the Past away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child of the ages springs to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, death, and life! but circling change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still working to a higher range!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make thee all science, Genius, clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our world; all Muses, grace and cheer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may the ideal thou hast shewn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy peculiar be thine own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee the starry belts of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inner laws, the heavenly chime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine storm and rack—the forests crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea gives up her secrets hoary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Beauty thine, on loom divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving the rainbow's woof of glory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Power of the civic heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than a power to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Genius, incarnated in Art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee the nations grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lawgiver thine, and priest, and sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit up the Oriental age.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_134" id="vol5Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Persuasive groves, and musical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love the illumined mountains all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eagles and rods, and axes clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forum and amphitheatre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These in thy plastic forming hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth leapt to life the classic Land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old and new, the worlds of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bridged the gulf of Middle Night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the purple passage rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many arch'd of centuries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Genius built it long and vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er it social knowledge pass'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far in the glad transmitted flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shinar, knit to Britain, came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their state by thee our fathers free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Genius, founded deep and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Majestic towers the fabric ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And awes the world from side to side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mart of the ties of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mart of the souls of men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Christ! to see thy Brotherhood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bought to be sold again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Front of hell, to trade therein.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Genius face the giant sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shafts of thought, truth-headed clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper'd all in Pity's tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every point and every tip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blood of Jesus dip;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierce till the monster reel and cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierce him till he fall and die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet cease not, rest not, onward quell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Power divine and terrible!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_135" id="vol5Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">See where yon bastion'd Midnight stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On half the sunken central lands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoot! let thy arrow heads of flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing as they pierce the blot of shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all the dark economies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become the light of blessed skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, above in wondering love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Genius shall it first be given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trace the lines of past designs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All confluent to the finish'd Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_136" id="vol5Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ROBERT_WHITE" id="vol5ROBERT_WHITE"></a>ROBERT WHITE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Newcastle +Magazine</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_137" id="vol5Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="vol5MY_NATIVE_LAND"></a>MY NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Scotland! dear as life to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are thy majestic hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet as purest melody<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music of thy rills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wildest cairn, the darkest dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within thy rocky strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possess o'er me a living spell—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art my native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loved country, when I muse upon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy dauntless men of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose swords in battle foremost shone—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy Wallace brave and bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Bruce who, for our liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did England's sway withstand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I glory I was born in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine own ennobled land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor less thy martyrs I revere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who spent their latest breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seal the cause they held so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And conquer'd even in death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their graves evince, o'er hill and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No bigot's stern command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall mould the faith thy sons maintain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dear devoted land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou hast ties around my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attraction deeper still—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gifted poet's sacred art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The minstrel's matchless skill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_138" id="vol5Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yea; every scene that Burns and Scott<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have touch'd with magic hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in my sight a hallow'd spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine own distinguish'd land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! when I wander'd far from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw thee in my dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark'd thy forests waving free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard thy rushing streams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mighty dead in life came forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I knew the honour'd band;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We spoke of thee—thy fame—thy worth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My high exalted land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now if the lonely home be mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In which my fathers dwelt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I can worship at the shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where they in fervour knelt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No glare of wealth, or honour high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall lure me from thy strand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I would yield my parting sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thee, my native land!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5A_SHEPHERDS_LIFE" id="vol5A_SHEPHERDS_LIFE"></a>A SHEPHERD'S LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eliza fair, the mirth of May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Resounds from glen and tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thy mild voice, I need not say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is dearer far to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_139" id="vol5Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And while I thus a garland cull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To grace that brow of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cup of pure delight is full—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shepherd's life be mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Believe me, maid, the means of wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Howe'er profuse they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Produce not pleasure that in health<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is shared by you and me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis when elate with thoughts of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We find a heart like thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That objects grateful glad the eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shepherd's life be mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O mark, Eliza, how the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around us sweetly spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And list how in these woodland bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds with rapture sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold that vale whose streamlet clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flows on in waving line;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can Paradise more bright appear?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shepherd's life be mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, dearest, not the morning bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dawns o'er hill and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor eve, with all its golden light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can charm me without thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel the magic of thy smile—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch that glance of thine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To talk to thee of love the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shepherd's life be mine!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_140" id="vol5Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HER_I_LOVE_BEST" id="vol5HER_I_LOVE_BEST"></a>HER I LOVE BEST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou morn full of beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That chases the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wakens all Nature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gladness and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When warbles the linnet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aloof from its nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O scatter thy fragrance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round her I love best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye hills, dark and lofty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That near her ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she in her pastime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across thee shall wend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let every lone pathway<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wild flowers be drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To welcome the footsteps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her I love best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou sun, proudly sailing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er depths of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispensing beneath thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Profusion and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until in thy splendour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou sink'st to the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gaze not too boldly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her I love best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye wild roving breezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I charge you, forbear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wantonly tangle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The braids of her hair;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_141" id="vol5Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe not o'er her rudely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sigh on her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor kiss you the sweet lip<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her I love best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou evening, that gently<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Steals after the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To robe with thy shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The landscape in gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fan with soft pinion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dearest to rest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calm be the slumber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her I love best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye angels of goodness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shield us from ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purest of pleasures<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awarding us still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As near her you hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, hear my request!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour blessings unnumber'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her I love best!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_KNIGHTS_RETURN" id="vol5THE_KNIGHTS_RETURN"></a>THE KNIGHT'S RETURN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Ellen, here again I stand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All dangers now are o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sigh to reach my native land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall rend my bosom more.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_142" id="vol5Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! oft, beyond the heaving main,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I mourn'd at Fate's decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish'd but to be back again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Scotland and to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Ellen, how I prized thy love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In foreign lands afar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my helm I bore thy glove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through thickest ranks of war:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a pledge, in battle-field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Recall'd thy charms to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I breath'd a prayer behind my shield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Scotland and for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I scarce can tell how eagerly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My eyes were hither cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, faintly rising o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These hills appear'd at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very breast, as on the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I bounded light and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Declared by throbs the love I bore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Scotland and to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, long, long has the doom been mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In other climes to roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet have I seen no form like thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sweeter spot than home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ask'd I e'er another heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To feel alone for me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Ellen, never more I'll part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Scotland and from thee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_143" id="vol5Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BONNIE_REDESDALE_LASSIE" id="vol5THE_BONNIE_REDESDALE_LASSIE"></a>THE BONNIE REDESDALE LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The breath o' spring is gratefu',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As mild it sweeps alang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakening bud an' blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The broomy braes amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wafting notes o' gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae ilka bower and tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is sweeter still to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How bright is summer's beauty!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, smilin' far an' near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wildest spots o' nature<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their gayest livery wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yellow cups an' daisies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are spread on ilka lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the bonnie Redesdale lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mair charming is to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! sweet is mellow autumn!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, wide oure a' the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow waves in rustlin' motion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heavy-headed grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in the sunshine glancin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rowin' like the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is dearer far to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As heaven itsel', her bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is free o' fraud or guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hope o' future pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is centred in her smile!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_144" id="vol5Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna lose for kingdoms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love-glance o' her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! the bonnie Redesdale lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is life and a' to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MOUNTAINEERS_DEATH" id="vol5THE_MOUNTAINEERS_DEATH"></a>THE MOUNTAINEER'S DEATH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pray for you, of your courtesy, before we further move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me look back and see the place that I so dearly love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not old in years, yet still, where'er I chanced to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strongest impulse of my heart was ever link'd with home:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There saw I first the light of heaven—there, by a mother's knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In time of infancy and youth, her love supported me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that I prize on earth is now my aching sight before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glen and brae, and moorland gray, I'll witness never more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath yon trees, that o'er the cot their deep'ning shadows fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father first reveal'd to me the exile of our king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon yon seat beside the door he gave to me his sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With charge to draw it only for our just and rightful lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I remember when I went, unfriended and alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst a world I never loved—ay! yonder is the stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which my mother, bending low, for me did heaven implore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stone, seat and tree are dear to me—I'll see them never more!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_145" id="vol5Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon hawthorn bower beside the burn I never shall forget;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! there my dear departed maid and I in rapture met:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What tender aspirations we breathed for other's weal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glow'd our hearts with sympathy which none but lovers feel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when above our hapless Prince the milk-white flag was flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While hamlet, mountain, rock, and glen with martial music rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We parted there; from her embrace myself I wildly tore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hopes were vain—I came again, but found her never more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! thank you for your gentleness—now stay one minute still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a lone and quiet spot on yonder rising hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark it, and the sight revives emotions strong and deep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, lowly laid, my parents in the dust together sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must I in a land afar from home and kindred lie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbid it, heaven! and hear my prayer—'tis better now to die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My limbs grow faint—I fain would rest—my eyes are darkening o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow flags my breath; now, this is death—adieu, for evermore!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_146" id="vol5Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_CAMERON" id="vol5WILLIAM_CAMERON"></a>WILLIAM CAMERON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5SWEET_JESSIE_O_THE_DELL" id="vol5SWEET_JESSIE_O_THE_DELL"></a>SWEET JESSIE O' THE DELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O bright the beaming queen o' night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shines in yon flow'ry vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly sheds her silver light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mountain, path, and dale.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_147" id="vol5Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Short is the way, when light 's the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That 's bound in love's soft spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae I 'll awa' to Armadale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Jessie o' the Dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To Jessie o' the Dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sweet Jessie o' the Dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie lass o' Armadale,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sweet Jessie o' the Dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 've pu'd the primrose on the braes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside my Jessie's cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've gather'd nuts, we 've gather'd slaes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that sweet rural spot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee short hours danced merrily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like lambkins on the fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they join'd in joy wi' me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Jessie o' the Dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's nane to me wi' her can vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll love her till I dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she's sae sweet and bonnie aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kind as kind can be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This night in mutual kind embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, wha our joys may tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I 'll awa' to Armadale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Jessie o' the Dell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MEET_ME_ON_THE_GOWAN_LEA" id="vol5MEET_ME_ON_THE_GOWAN_LEA"></a>MEET ME ON THE GOWAN LEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meet me on the gowan lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bonnie Mary, sweetest Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet me on the gowan lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain, my artless Mary.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_148" id="vol5Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before the sun sink in the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nature a' hae gane to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There to my fond, my faithful breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, let me clasp my Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Meet me on the gowan lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bonnie Mary, sweetest Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Meet me on the gowan lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My ain, my artless Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gladsome lark o'er moor and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lintie in the bosky dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae blyther than your bonnie sel',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain, my artless Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Meet me, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'll join our love notes to the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sighs in whispers through the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' that twa fond hearts can please<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will be our sang, dear Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Meet me, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There ye shall sing the sun to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While to my faithfu' bosom prest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wha sae happy, wha sae blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As me and my dear Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Meet me, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MORAGS_FAIRY_GLEN" id="vol5MORAGS_FAIRY_GLEN"></a>MORAG'S FAIRY GLEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye ken whar yon wee burnie, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rins roarin' to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tumbles o'er it's rocky bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like spirit wild and free.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_149" id="vol5Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The mellow mavis tunes his lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blackbird swells his note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little robin sweetly sings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the woody grot.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There meet me, love, by a' unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Beside yon mossy den,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, meet me, love, at dewy eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Morag's fairy glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, meet me, love, at dewy eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Morag's fairy glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come when the sun, in robes of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sinks o'er yon hills to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fragrance floating in the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes frae the dewy west.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will pu' a garland gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To deck thy brow sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many a woodbine cover'd glade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sweet wild flower is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's music in the wild cascade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's love amang the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's beauty in ilk bank and brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' balm upon the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a' of nature and of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That maistly weel could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh, my love, when thou art there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's bliss in store for me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_150" id="vol5Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_DINNA_CROSS_THE_BURN_WILLIE" id="vol5OH_DINNA_CROSS_THE_BURN_WILLIE"></a>OH! DINNA CROSS THE BURN, WILLIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oh! dinna cross the burn, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dinna cross the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For big 's the spate, and loud it roars;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, dinna cross the burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your folks a' ken you 're here the nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sair they wad you blame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae bide wi' me till mornin' licht—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Indeed, you 're no gaun hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thunder-storm howls in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The burn is rising fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bide only twa-three hours, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The storm 'll a' be past.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, dinna cross, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then bide, dear Willie, here the nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, bide till mornin' here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My faither, he 'll see a' things richt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye 'll hae nocht to fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, dark 's the lift, no moon is there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rains in torrents pour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the lightning's dreadful glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hear how the thunders roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, dinna cross, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away he rode, no kind words could<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His mad resolve o'erturn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He plunged into the foaming flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never cross'd the burn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now though ten long years have pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since that wild storm blew by—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! still the maniac hears the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still her crazy cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, dinna cross, &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_151" id="vol5Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_TAIT" id="vol5ALEXANDER_TAIT"></a>ALEXANDER TAIT.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5EENINGS_DEWY_HOUR" id="vol5EENINGS_DEWY_HOUR"></a>E'ENING'S DEWY HOUR.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Roslin Castle.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When rosy day, far in the west, has vanish'd frae the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gloamin' spreads her mantle gray owre lake and mountain green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When yet the darklin' shades o' mirk but haflens seem to lower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dear to love and beauty is the e'ening's dewy hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When down the burnie's wimpling course, amid the hazel shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The robin chants his vesper sang, the cushat seeks the glade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bats their drowsy vigils wheel round eldrich tree and tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be 't mine to meet the lass I lo'e at e'ening's dewy hour!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_152" id="vol5Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When owre the flower-bespangled sward the flocks have ceased to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maukin steals across the lawn beneath the twilight gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, oh! how dear, frae men apart, in glen or woodland bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the lass we dearly lo'e at e'ening's dewy hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ruddy morn has charms enow, when, from the glowin' sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun on rival beauties smiles wi' gladness in his eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! the softer shaded scene has magic in its power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which cheers the youthful lover's heart at e'ening's dewy hour!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_153" id="vol5Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5CHARLES_FLEMING" id="vol5CHARLES_FLEMING"></a>CHARLES FLEMING.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WATTY_MNEIL" id="vol5WATTY_MNEIL"></a>WATTY M'NEIL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar silken hose shine, and glitter cockades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the low-thatched cot mair pleasure I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To discourse wi' the aul'-farint Watty M'Neil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentles may hoot, and slip by his door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mien it is simple, his haudin' is poor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft fashion encircles a heart no sae leal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far will ye ride for a Watty M'Neil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His welcome is touching, yet nought o' the faun—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A warmth is express'd in the shake o' his han';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cog and his bed, or ought in his biel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely will share frae kind Watty M'Neil.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_154" id="vol5Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He kens a' 'bout Scotland, its friends and its foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Leslie did triumph o'er gallant Montrose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Covenant's banner ower Philiphaugh's fiel'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waved glorious—'twas noble, says Watty M'Neil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then gang and see Watty ere laid in the mools,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's a help to the wise folk, a lesson to fools;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contentment and innocence mingle sae weel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid the braw lyart haffits o' Watty M'Neil.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_155" id="vol5Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_FERGUSON" id="vol5WILLIAM_FERGUSON"></a>WILLIAM FERGUSON.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5I_LL_TEND_THY_BOWER_MY_BONNIE_MAY" id="vol5I_LL_TEND_THY_BOWER_MY_BONNIE_MAY"></a>I 'LL TEND THY BOWER, MY BONNIE MAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In spring time o' the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When saft'ning winds begin to woo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The primrose to appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When daffodils begin to dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And streams again flow free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little birds are heard to pipe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the sprouting forest tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When summer days are lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When nature's heart is big wi' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her voice laden wi' sang;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_156" id="vol5Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When shepherds pipe on sunny braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flocks roam at their will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And auld and young, in cot an' ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' pleasure drink their fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When autumn's yellow fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wave like seas o' gowd, before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glancin' sickle yields;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ilka bough is bent wi' fruit—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glorious sight to see!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And showers o' leaves, red, rustling, sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out owre the withering lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, through the naked trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld, shivering on the bare hill-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweeps wild the frosty breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When tempests roar, and billows rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till nature quakes wi' fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the land, and on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild winter rules the year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WOOING_SONG" id="vol5WOOING_SONG"></a>WOOING SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spring comes back to woo the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' a lover's speed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee birds woo their lovin' mates,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around our very head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 've nae skill in lover-craft—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For till I met wi' you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never sought a maiden's love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never tried to woo.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_157" id="vol5Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've gazed on many a comely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thought it sweet an' fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wi' the face the charm would flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never move me mair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But miles away, your bonnie face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is ever in my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a' its charms, half wilin' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half daurin' me to woo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At hame, a-field, you 're a' my theme;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I doat my time away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dream o'er a' your charms by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And worship them by day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when they glad my langin' e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they are gladden'd now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My courage flees like frighted bird;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I daurna mint to woo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My head thus lying on your lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your hand aneath my cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love stounds my bosom through and through,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But yet I canna speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My coward heart wi' happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' bliss is brimin' fu';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! its fu'ness mars my tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I haena power to woo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I prize your smile, as husbandman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The summer's opening bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could you frown, I dread it mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than he the autumn's gloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life hangs on that sweet, sweet lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On that calm, sunny brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! my dead hangs on them baith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless you let me woo.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_158" id="vol5Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! lift me to your bosom, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay your warm cheek to mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let me round that lovesome waist<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My arms enraptured twine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may breathe my very soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ae lang lovin' vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the while in whispers low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You 'll learn me, love, to woo!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5I_M_WANDERING_WIDE" id="vol5I_M_WANDERING_WIDE"></a>I 'M WANDERING WIDE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But yet my heart 's at hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fu' cozie by my ain fire-cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside my winsome dame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary winds howl lang an' loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But 'mid their howling drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words sweeter far than honey blabs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fa' saftly on my ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm wand'ring wide an' far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love, to guide me back again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights up a kindly star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lift glooms black aboon my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae friendly blink I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let it gloom—twa bonnie e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glance bright to gladden me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm wand'ring wide and late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ridgy wreaths afore me rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if to bar my gate;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_159" id="vol5Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Around me swirls the sleety drift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The frost bites dour an' keen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But breathings warm, frae lovin' lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come ilka gust atween.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm wand'ring wide an' wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alang a steep and eerie track,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where hills on hills are piled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torrent roars in wrath below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tempest roars aboon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fancy broods on brighter scenes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soughs a cheerin' tune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm wand'ring wide my lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a langsome, lanesome mile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll measure e'er it 's gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lanesome roads or langsome miles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never daunton me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I think on the welcome warm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That waits me, love, frae thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_160" id="vol5Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5THOMAS_DICK" id="vol5THOMAS_DICK"></a>THOMAS DICK.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HOW_EARLY_I_WOOD_THEE" id="vol5HOW_EARLY_I_WOOD_THEE"></a>HOW EARLY I WOO'D THEE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>'Neil Gow's Lament for his Brother.'</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How sweet was thy voice, how enchanting thy smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joy 'twas to see thee, the bliss to be wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I mind, but to feel now their power to beguile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gazed on thy beauty, and a' things about thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem'd too fair for earth, as I bent at thy shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fortune and fashion, mair powerfu' than passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could alter the bosom that seem'd sae divine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Anither may praise thee, may fondle and fraize thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And win thee wi' words, when his heart's far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh, when sincerest, when warmest, and dearest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His vows—will my truth be forgot by thee a'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst pleasure and splendour thy fancy may wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But moments o' solitude ilk ane maun dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then feeling will find thee, and mem'ry remind thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' him wha through life gaes heart-broken for thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_161" id="vol5Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5HUGH_MILLER" id="vol5HUGH_MILLER"></a>HUGH MILLER.</h2> + +<p>The celebrated geologist, and editor of the <i>Witness</i> 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 <i>Inverness Courier</i>, the columns +of that journal were adorned by his poetical contributions. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_162" id="vol5Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> 1829 +these were issued from the <i>Courier</i> 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 <i>Courier</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_163" id="vol5Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> house of the +Messrs Black of Edinburgh, confirmed and widely extended the reputation +of the author.</p> + +<p>From handling the workman's tools, a sudden transition to the constant +use of the pen of the <i>litterateur</i> 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 <i>The Tales of the +Border</i>, and writing occasional articles to <i>Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal</i>. The <i>veto</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_164" id="vol5Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> recommended his immediate nomination as +the editor of the <i>Witness</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_165" id="vol5Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 follow<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_166" id="vol5Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>ing specimens attest, to a place among the national poets.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5SISTER_JEANIE_HASTE_WE_LL_GO11" id="vol5SISTER_JEANIE_HASTE_WE_LL_GO11"></a>SISTER JEANIE, HASTE, WE 'LL GO.<a name="vol5FNanchor_11_11" id="vol5FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where the white-starr'd gowans grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the puddock-flower, o' gowden hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snawdrap white, and the bonnie vi'let blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where the blossom'd lilacs grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where the pine-tree, dark an' high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is pointing its tap at the cloudless sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jeanie, mony a merry lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is sung in the young-leaved woods to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flits on light wing the dragon-flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hums on the flowerie the big red bee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Down the burnie wirks its way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aneath the bending birken spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wimples roun' the green moss-stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mourns, I kenna why, wi' a ceaseless mane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Jeanie, come! thy days o' play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' autumn tide shall pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sune shall these scenes, in darkness cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be ravaged wild by the wild winter blast.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_167" id="vol5Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Though to thee a spring shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' scenes as fair salute thine eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' though, through many a cloudless day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My winsome Jean shall be heartsome and gay;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He wha grasps thy little hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae langer at thy side shall stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor o'er the flower-besprinkled brae<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead thee the lounnest an' the bonniest way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Dost thou see yon yard sae green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Speckled wi' mony a mossy stane?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few short weeks o' pain shall fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' asleep in that bed shall thy puir brother lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then thy mither's tears awhile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May chide thy joy an' damp thy smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But soon ilk grief shall wear awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll be forgotten by ane an' by a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Dinna think the thought is sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life vex'd me aft, but this maks glad;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When cauld my heart and closed my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonnie shall the dreams o' my slumbers be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_SOFTLY_SIGHS_THE_WESTLIN_BREEZE" id="vol5OH_SOFTLY_SIGHS_THE_WESTLIN_BREEZE"></a>OH, SOFTLY SIGHS THE WESTLIN' BREEZE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through floweries pearl'd wi' dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' brightly lemes the gowden sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That skirts the mountain blue.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_168" id="vol5Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweet the birken trees amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swells many a blithesome lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' loud the bratlin burnie's voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes soundin' up the brae.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, ah! nae mair the sweets o' spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can glad my wearied e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair the summer's op'ning bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gies ought o' joy to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark, dark to me the pearly flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sad the mavis sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' little heart hae I to roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These leafy groves amang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's gane! she 's gane! the loveliest maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wae o'erpress'd I pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass waves o'er my Myra's grave!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! ance I ca'd her mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ither choice does fate afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than just to mourn and dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' gane the star that cheer'd my sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beam that bless'd my e'e?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At gloamin' hour alang the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alane she lo'ed to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pu' the rose o' crimson bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' haw-flower purple gray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their siller leaves the willows waved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As pass'd that maiden by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweeter burst the burdies' sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae poplar straight an' high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fu' aften have I watch'd at e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These birken trees amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bless the bonnie face that turn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where the mavis sang;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_169" id="vol5Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' aft I 've cross'd that grassy path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch my Myra's e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, soon this winding dell became<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A blissful haunt to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae mair a wasting form within,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wretched heart I bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair unkent, unloved, and lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The warl' I wander'd o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not then like now my life was wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not then this heart repined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught of coming ill I thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sigh'd to look behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheer'd by gay hope's enliv'ning ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' warm'd wi' minstrel fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' expected meed that maiden's smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I strung my rustic lyre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lyre a pitying Muse had given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me, for, wrought wi' toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bade, wi' its simple tones,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The weary hours beguile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lang had it been my secret pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though nane its strains might hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ne'er till then trembled its chords<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To woo a list'ning ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest echoes to its voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fu' sad, had aft complain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan, mingling wi' its wayward strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Murmur'd the midnight wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Harsh were its tones, yet Myra praised<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild and artless strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pride I strung my lyre anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' waked its chords again.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_170" id="vol5Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The sound was sad, the sparkling tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arose in Myra's e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mair I lo'ed that artless drap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than a' the warl' could gie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To wean the heart frae warldly grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae warldly moil an' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could maiden smile a lovelier smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or drap a tend'rer tear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now she 's gane,—dark, dark an' drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lang, lang sleep maun be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! mair drear the years o' life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That still remain to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan o'er the raging ocean wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gloom o' night is spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If lemes the twinkling beacon-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sailor's heart is glad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hope he steers, but, 'mid the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If sinks the waning ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dees a' that hope, an' fails his saul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'erpress'd wi' loads o' wae.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_171" id="vol5Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_MACANSH" id="vol5ALEXANDER_MACANSH"></a>ALEXANDER MACANSH.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Tait's Magazine</i>, the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>, and the +<i>Scotsman</i> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_172" id="vol5Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MOTHER_AND_CHILD" id="vol5THE_MOTHER_AND_CHILD"></a>THE MOTHER AND CHILD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mother, with her blooming child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sat by the river pool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in whose waters lay the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So stilly beautiful.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She held her babe aloft, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its infant image look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up joyous, laughing, leaping from<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bosom of the brook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as it gazed upon the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wondering infant smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stretched its little hands, and tried<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To clasp the shadow'd child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, in that silent underwold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With eager gesture strove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet it with a brother-kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A brother-clasp of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">('Twas thus the mother sung;)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrew, Experience, has not yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With envious gesture flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aside the enchanted veil which hides<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's pale and dreary look;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel lurks in every stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heaven in every brook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere drop the tears of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon that mirror, scattering all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those glorious shapes, and show<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_173" id="vol5Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A fleeting shadow, which thou think'st<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An angel, breathing, living—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shallow pebbly brook which thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast fondly deem'd a heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CHANGE" id="vol5CHANGE"></a>CHANGE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Change! change! the mournful story<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all that 's been before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wrecks of perish'd glory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bestrewing every shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shatter'd tower and palace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In every vale and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In broken language tell us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the fleeting power of men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Change! change! the plough is sweeping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er some scene of household mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sickle hand is reaping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er some ancient rural hearth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the mother and the daughter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the evenings used to spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where little feet went patter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full often out and in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Change! change! for all things human,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thrones, powers of amplest wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have their flight, and fall in common<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the meanest mortal thing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beauty, love, and passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all of earthly trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With life's tiniest wavelet dashing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Curling, breaking into dust.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_174" id="vol5Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where arose in marble grandeur<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wall'd cities of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sullen winds now wander<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er a ruin-mounded waste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low lies each lofty column;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The owl in silence wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er floors, where, slow and solemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Paced the sandal'd feet of kings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still change! Go thou and view it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All desolately sunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The circle of the Druid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cloister of the monk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The abbey boled and squalid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its bush-maned, staggering wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask by whom these were unhallow'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Change, change hath done it all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_TOMB_OF_THE_BRUCE" id="vol5THE_TOMB_OF_THE_BRUCE"></a>THE TOMB OF THE BRUCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon old temple pile, where the moon dimly flashes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er gray roof, tall window, sloped buttress, and base,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erarches the ashes, the now silent ashes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the noblest, the bravest, of Scotia's race.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hallow'd yon spot where a hero is lying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Embalm'd in the holiness worship bedews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lamb watching over the sleep of the lion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Religion enthroned on the tomb of the Bruce!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far other and fiercer the moments that crown'd him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than those that now creep o'er yon old temple pile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sterner the music that storm'd around him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the anthem that peals through the long-sounding aisle,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_175" id="vol5Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When his bugle's fierce tones with the war-hum was blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, with claymores engirdled, and banners all loose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rough-footed warriors, to battle descending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peal'd up to the heavens the war-cry of Bruce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear him again, with deep voice proclaiming—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let our country be free, or with freedom expire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see him again, with his great sword o'erflaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The plume-nodding field, like a banner of fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still onward it blazes, that red constellation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its passage no pause, to its flashing no truce:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the pillar of glory that led forth our nation<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From shackles and chains, was the sword of the Bruce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now he is sleeping in darkness; the thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of battle to him is now silent and o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sword, that, like threads, sever'd shackles asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall gleam in the vanguard of Scotland no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, oh, though his banner for ever be furled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though his great sword be rusted and red with disuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can freemen, when tyrants would handcuff the world—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can freemen be mute at the Tomb of the Bruce?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_176" id="vol5Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JAMES_PRINGLE" id="vol5JAMES_PRINGLE"></a>JAMES PRINGLE.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_PLOUGHMAN" id="vol5THE_PLOUGHMAN"></a>THE PLOUGHMAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blithe be the mind of the ploughman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unruffled by passion or guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fair be the face of the woman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who blesses his love with a smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His clothing, though russet and homely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With royalty's robe may compare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cottage, though simple, is comely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For peace and contentment are there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let monarchs exult in their splendour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When courtiers obsequiously bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But are not their greatness and grandeur<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sustain'd by the toils of the plough?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_177" id="vol5Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The soldier may glory discover<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In havock which warfare hath made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the shout of his fame rises over<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vanquish'd, the bleeding, the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though pride, in her trappings so dainty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May sneer with contemptuous air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fertility, pleasure, and plenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still follow the track of the share.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And long may the heart of the ploughman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In virtue and vigour beat high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His calling, though simple and common,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our wants and our comforts supply.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_178" id="vol5Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_ANDERSON" id="vol5WILLIAM_ANDERSON"></a>WILLIAM ANDERSON.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Aberdeen +Journal</i>, and in 1835 edited for a short time the <i>Advertiser</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_179" id="vol5Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> 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 <i>The Western Watchman</i>, a weekly journal +published at Ayr. In 1844 he became connected with the <i>Witness</i> +newspaper; but in the following year removed to Glasgow, to assist in +the establishment of the first Scottish daily newspaper. With that +journal, the <i>Daily Mail</i>, 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 <i>Tait's Magazine</i>, 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_180" id="vol5Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> devoted to the biography, +history, and antiquities of Scotland, has engaged his attention for some +years, and is in a forward state for publication.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WOODLAND_SONG" id="vol5WOODLAND_SONG"></a>WOODLAND SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will you go to the woodlands with me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sun 's on the hill, and all nature is still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save the sound of the far dashing sea?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For I love to lie lone on the hill, on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love to lie lone on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earth, sea, and sky, in loveliness vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all nature around me is still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then my fancy is ever awake, awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fancy is never asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a bird on the wing, like a swan on the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a ship far away on the deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I love 'neath the green boughs to lie, to lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love 'neath the green boughs to lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see far above, like the smiling of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glimpse now and then of the sky.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_181" id="vol5Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the hum of the forest I hear, I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the hum of the forest I hear,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis solitude's prayer, pure devotion is there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And its breathings I ever revere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I kneel myself down on the sod, the sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I kneel myself down on the sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong the flowers and wild heath, and an orison breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In lowliness up to my God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then peace doth descend on my mind, my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then peace doth descend on my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I gain greater scope to my spirit and hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For both then become more refined.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! whatever my fate chance to be, to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My spirit shall never repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If a stroll on the hill, if a glimpse of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If the hum of the forest be mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_WELLS_O_WEARY" id="vol5THE_WELLS_O_WEARY"></a>THE WELLS O' WEARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down in the valley lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far in the wild wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bubble forth springs, each one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weeping like childhood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright on their rushy banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like joys among sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little flowers bloom in ranks—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glimpses of gladness.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_182" id="vol5Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet 'tis to wander forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like pilgrims at even;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting our souls from earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fix them on Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in our transport deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This world forsaking:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping as angels sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mortals awaking!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5I_M_NAEBODY_NOO" id="vol5I_M_NAEBODY_NOO"></a>I 'M NAEBODY NOO.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm naebody noo; though in days that are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I 'd hooses, and lands, and gear o' my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ther war' mony to flatter, and mony to praise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wha but mysel' was sae prood in those days!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha laugh'd at my joke, and applauded my sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the tane had nae point, and the tither nae glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, of coorse, they war' grand when comin' frae me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan I 'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ther war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But whanever the water grew scant at the well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan I 'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the feasting o' those who came only to feast.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_183" id="vol5Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thoucht a' the time was intended for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But whanever the end o' my money they saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their friendship, like it, also flicker'd awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that 's true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I 'm naebody noo.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5I_CANNA_SLEEP" id="vol5I_CANNA_SLEEP"></a>I CANNA SLEEP.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna sleep a wink, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I gang to bed at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still o' thee I think, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till morning sheds its light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lie an' think o' thee, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I toss frae side to side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a vessel on the sea, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When stormy is the tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart is no my ain, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It winna bide wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a birdie it has gane, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To nestle saft wi' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna lure it back, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae keep it to yoursel';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! it sune will break, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If you dinna use it well.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_184" id="vol5Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the treasure is, they say, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit lingers there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mine has fled away, lassie—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You needna ask me where.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I marvel oft if rest, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On my eyes and heart would bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I thy troth possess'd, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou wert at my side.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_185" id="vol5Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_M_HETHERINGTON_DD_LLD" id="vol5WILLIAM_M_HETHERINGTON_DD_LLD"></a>WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Free Church Magazine</i>. +Formerly a frequent contributor to the more esteemed religious +periodicals, he has latterly written chiefly for the <i>British and +Foreign Evangelical Review</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_186" id="vol5Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5TIS_SWEET_WI_BLITHESOME_HEART_TO_STRAY" id="vol5TIS_SWEET_WI_BLITHESOME_HEART_TO_STRAY"></a>'TIS SWEET WI' BLITHESOME HEART TO STRAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blushing dawn o' infant day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter than dewy morn can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The half o' my life I 'd gladly gie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The garish sun has sunk to rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star o' gloaming gilds the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle moon comes smiling on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her veil o'er the silent earth is thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then come, sweet maid, oh, come wi' me!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The whispering night-breeze calls on thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, come and roam o'er the lily lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For wealth let warldlings cark and moil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let pride for empty honours toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd a' their wealth and honours gie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ae sweet hour, dear maid, wi' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Earth's stores and titles a' I 'd gie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_187" id="vol5Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5O_SWEET_IS_THE_BLOSSOM" id="vol5O_SWEET_IS_THE_BLOSSOM"></a>O SWEET IS THE BLOSSOM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O sweet is the blossom o' the hawthorn tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie milky blossom o' the hawthorn tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the saft westlin wind, as it wanders o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes laden wi' the breath o' the hawthorn tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovely is the rose in the dewy month o' June,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the lily gently bending beneath the sunny noon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dewy rose nor lily fair is half sae sweet to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bonnie milky blossom o' the hawthorn tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, blithe at fair an' market fu' aften I hae been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' wi' a crony frank an' leal, some happy hours I 've seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the happiest hours I ere enjoy'd, were shared, my love, wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the gloaming 'neath the bonnie, bonnie hawthorn tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetly sang the blackbird, low in the woody glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fragrance sweet spread on the gale, light o'er the dewy plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy saft voice an' sighing breath were sweeter far to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While whispering o' love beneath the hawthorn tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Time may wave his dusky wing, an' Chance may cast his die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rainbow hues of flatterin' Hope may darken in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay Summer pass, an' Winter stalk stern o'er the frozen lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor leaf, nor milky blossom deck the hawthorn tree:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_188" id="vol5Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still'd maun be the pulse that wakes this glowing heart o' mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me nae mair the spring maun bud, nor summer blossoms shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' low maun be my hame, sweet maid, ere I be false to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or forget the vows I breathed beneath the hawthorn tree.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_189" id="vol5Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5THOMAS_WATSON" id="vol5THOMAS_WATSON"></a>THOMAS WATSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SQUIRE_O_LOW_DEGREE" id="vol5THE_SQUIRE_O_LOW_DEGREE"></a>THE SQUIRE O' LOW DEGREE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve 's a flower in garden fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her beauty charms the sicht o' men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'm a weed upon the wolde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For nane reck how I fare or fen'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She blooms in beild o' castle wa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I bide the blast o' povertie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My covert looks are treasures stown—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve is like the dawn o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She wears a veil o' woven mist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hoary cranreuch deftly flower'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies paling on her maiden breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her kirtle at her jimpy waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has studs o' gowd to clasp it wi'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She decks her hair wi' pearlis rare—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_190" id="vol5Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My cloak is o' the Friesland gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My doublet o' the gay Walloon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wear the spurs o' siller sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet I am a landless loon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ride a steed o' Flanders breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I beare a sword upon my theigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that is a' my graith and gear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve's rose lips breathe sweet perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twa pearlie raws pure faire atween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happie dimples dent her cheeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And diamonds low in her dark e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her haire is o' the gowden licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But dark the fringes o' her bree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smile wuld warm cauld winter's heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve is tended like a queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sits among her maidens fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's ane to send, and ane to sew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ane to kame her gowden hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lutestrings luve her fingers sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lips are steept in melodie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is fu'—my e'en rin ower—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My luve she sits her palfrey white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mair fair to see than makar's dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' faery queen on moonbeam bricht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mermaid on the saut sea faem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A belted knicht is by her side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm but a squire o' low degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A baron halds her bridle-rein—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how culd my luve think o' me?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_191" id="vol5Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I will don the pilgrim's weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And boune me till the Holy Land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' for the sake o' my dear luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To keep unstain'd my heart and hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when this world is gane to wreck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' its pride and vanitie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the blessed bouris o' heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We then may meet—my luve and me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_192" id="vol5Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JAMES_MACDONALD" id="vol5JAMES_MACDONALD"></a>JAMES MACDONALD.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_193" id="vol5Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5BONNIE_AGGIE_LANG" id="vol5BONNIE_AGGIE_LANG"></a>BONNIE AGGIE LANG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or ere we part, my heart leaps hie to sing ae bonnie sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aboot my ain sweet lady-love, my darling Aggie Lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is na that her cheeks are like the blooming damask rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is na that her brow is white as stainless Alpine snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is na that her locks are black as ony raven's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is 't her e'e o' winning glee that mak's me fondly sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, oh! her heart, a bonnie well, that gushes fresh an' free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' maiden love, and happiness, and a' that sweet can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though saft the sang o' simmer winds, the warbling o' the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The carolling o' joyous birds, the murmur o' a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd rather hear a'e gentle word frae Aggie's angel tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel I ken her heart is mine—the fountain whar it sprung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen I met her in a glen about the gloamin' hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon was risen o'er the trees, the dew begemm'd ilk flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary wind was hush'd asleep, an' no a sough cam' nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en frae the waukrife stream that ran in silver glintin' by;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_194" id="vol5Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I press'd her milk-white han' in mine—she smiled as angels smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! frae me her tale o' love this warld manna wile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw the silver light o' heaven fa' on her bonnie brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' glitter on the honey-blabs upon her cherry mou';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the lily moonbeams steal the redness o' the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sleep upon her downy cheek in beautiful repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon rose high, the stream gaed by, but aye she smiled on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' what she wadna breathe in words she tauld it wi' here e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've sat within a palace hall amid the grand an' gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've listen'd to the carnival o' merry birds in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've been in joyous companies, the wale o' mirth an' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' danced in nature's fairy bowers by mountain, lake, and lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never has this heart o' mine career'd in purer pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in that moonlit glen an' bower, wi' Aggie by my side.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_PRIDE_O_THE_GLEN" id="vol5THE_PRIDE_O_THE_GLEN"></a>THE PRIDE O' THE GLEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, bonnie 's the lily that blooms in the valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fair is the cherry that grows on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The primrose smiles sweet as it welcomes the simmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And modest 's the wee gowan's love-talking e'e;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_195" id="vol5Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Mair dear to my heart is that lown cosy dingle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar late i' the gloamin', by the lanely "Ha' den,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met with the fairest ere bounded in beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the banks o' the Endrick, the pride o' the glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's pure as the spring cloud that smiles in the welkin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An blithe as the lambkin that sports on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart is a fount rinnin' owre wi' affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a warld o' feeling is the love o' her e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prince may be proud o' his vast hoarded treasures,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heir o' his grandeur and high pedigree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They kenna the happiness dwalt in my bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When alane wi' the angel o' luve and o' le.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've seen the day dawn in a shower-drappin' goud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grass spread wi' dew, like a wide siller sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds shinin' bricht in a deep amber licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the earth blushin' back to the glad lift on hie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've dream'd o' a palace wi' gem-spangled ha's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And proud wa's a' glitterin' in rich diamond sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' towers shinin' fair, through the rose-tinted air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And domes o' rare pearls and rubies atween.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've sat in a garden, 'mid earth's gayest flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' gaudily shawin' their beauteous dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathin' in calm the air's fragrant balm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like angels asleep on the plains o' the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the garden, and palace, and day's rosy dawning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though in bless'd morning dreams they should aft come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can ne'er be sae sweet as the bonnie young lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bloom'd by the Endrick, the pride of the glen.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_196" id="vol5Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The exile, in sleep, haunts the land o' his fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The captive's ae dream is his hour to be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary heart langs for the morning rays comin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The oppress'd, for his sabbath o' sweet liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my life's only hope, my heart's only prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the day that I 'll ca' the young lassie my ain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a' should forsake me, wi' her I 'll be happy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the banks o' the Endrick, the pride o' the glen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MARY_2" id="vol5MARY_2"></a>MARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The winter's cauld and cheerless blast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May rob the feckless tree, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay the young flowers in the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar' ance they bloom'd in glee, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It canna chill my bosom's hopes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It canna alter thee, Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The summer o' thy winsome face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is aye the same to me, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gloom o' life, its cruel strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May wear me fast awa', Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lea'e me like a cauld, cauld corpse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the drifting snaw, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet 'mid the drift, wert thou but nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'd fauld my weary e'e, Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deem the wild and raging storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A laverock's sang o' glee, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart can lie in ruin's dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fortune's winter dree, Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er it shines the diamond ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glances frae thine e'e, Mary.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_197" id="vol5Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The rending pangs and waes o' life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dreary din o' care, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll welcome, gin they lea'e but thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lanely lot to share, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As o'er yon hill the evening star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is wilin' day awa', Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sweet and fair art thou to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At life's sad gloamin' fa', Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gars me greet wi' vera joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er I think on thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sic a heart sae true as thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should e'er ha'e cared for me, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_198" id="vol5Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JAMES_BALLANTINE" id="vol5JAMES_BALLANTINE"></a>JAMES BALLANTINE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_199" id="vol5Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> 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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_200" id="vol5Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5NAEBODYS_BAIRN" id="vol5NAEBODYS_BAIRN"></a>NAEBODY'S BAIRN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She had mickle to thole, she had mickle to learn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afore a kind word or kind look she could earn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For naebody cared about Naebody's bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though faither or mither ne'er own'd her ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rear'd by the fremmit for fee unco sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She grew in the shade like a young lady-fern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature was bounteous to Naebody's bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though toited by some, and though lightlied by mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never compleened, though her young heart was sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warm virgin tears that might melted cauld airn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whiles glist in the blue e'e o' Naebody's bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though nane cheer'd her childhood, an' nane hail'd her birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven sent her an angel to gladden the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the earth doom'd her in laigh nook to dern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven couldna but tak again Naebody's bairn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She cam smiling sweetly as young mornin' daw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like lown simmer gloamin' she faded awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! how serenely that lone e'ening starn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines on the greensward that haps Naebody's bairn!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_201" id="vol5Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR" id="vol5CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR"></a>CASTLES IN THE AIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie, bonnie bairn sits pokin' in the ase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowerin' in the fire wi' his wee round face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughin' at the fuffin low—what sees he there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ha! the young dreamer 's biggin' castles in the air!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His wee chubby face, an' his towzy curly pow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are laughin' an noddin' to the dancin' lowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees little sodgers puin' them a' doun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warlds whomlin' up an' doun, blazin' wi' a flare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Losh! how he loups, as they glimmer in the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For a' sae sage he looks, what can the laddie ken?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's thinkin' upon naething, like mony mighty men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wee thing mak's us think, a sma' thing mak's us stare,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are mair folks than him biggin' castles in the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sic a night in winter may weel mak' him cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His chin upon his buffy hand will soon mak' him auld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His brow is brent sae braid, oh, pray that Daddy Care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad let the wean alane wi' his castles in the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 'll glower at the fire, an' he 'll keek at the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mony sparkling stars are swallow'd up by night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aulder e'en than his are glamour'd by a glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts are broken—heads are turn'd—wi' castles in the air.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_202" id="vol5Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_KEPS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW" id="vol5ILKA_BLADE_O_GRASS_KEPS_ITS_AIN_DRAP_O_DEW"></a>ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though press'd an' hemm'd on every side, hae faith an' ye 'll win through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye 've been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief lies deep-hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae your e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe it for the best, and trow there 's good in store for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In lang, lang days o' simmer when the clear and cludless sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The genial night, wi balmy breath, gaurs verdure spring anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae lest 'mid fortune's sunshine we should feel ower proud an' hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some wee dark cluds o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or hoo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_203" id="vol5Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WIFIE_COME_HAME" id="vol5WIFIE_COME_HAME"></a>WIFIE, COME HAME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Wifie, come hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My couthie wee dame!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, but ye 're far awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wifie, come hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy broo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come wi' the lown star o' love in thine e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' glist wi' balm, like the dew on the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come wi' the gowd tassels fringin' thy hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come wi' thy wee step, and wifie-like air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, quickly come, and shed blessings on me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Wifie, come hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My couthie wee dame!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, my heart wearies sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wifie, come hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come wi' our love pledge, our dear little dawtie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clasping my neck round, an' clamb'rin' my knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come let me nestle and press the wee pettie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gazing on ilka sweet feature o' thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, but the house is a cauld hame without ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lanely and eerie 's the life that I dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, come awa', an' I 'll dance round about ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll ne'er again win frae my arms till I dee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_204" id="vol5Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BIRDIE_SURE_TO_SING_IS_AYE_THE_GORBEL_O_THE_NEST" id="vol5THE_BIRDIE_SURE_TO_SING_IS_AYE_THE_GORBEL_O_THE_NEST"></a>THE BIRDIE SURE TO SING IS AYE THE GORBEL O' THE NEST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dinna look ye pridefu' doon on a' aneath your ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he wha seems the farthest but aft wins the farthest ben;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whiles the doubie o' the school tak's lead o' a' the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cauld gray misty morn aft brings a sultry sunny day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees wha's buds are latest are the langest to decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart sair tried wi' sorrow aye endures the sternest test—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wee, wee stern that glints in heaven, may be a lowin' sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though like a speck o' light, scarce seen amid the welkin dun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The humblest sodger on the field may win the warrior's crest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then dinna be impatient wi' your bairnie when he 's slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dinna scorn the humble, though the world deem them low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hindmost and the feeblest aft become the first and best—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdie sure to sing is aye the gorbel o' the nest.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_205" id="vol5Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CREEP_AFORE_YE_GANG" id="vol5CREEP_AFORE_YE_GANG"></a>CREEP AFORE YE GANG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld grannie's sang;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep awa', my bairnie—creep afore ye gang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Creep awa', my bairnie, ye 're ower young to learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Better creepin' cannie, as fa'in' wi' a bang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Duntin' a' your wee brow—creep afore ye gang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll creep, an' ye 'll hotch, an' ye 'll nod to your mither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watchin' ilka stap o' your wee donsy brither;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ye 'll be a braw cheil' yet—creep afore ye gang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wee burdie fa's when it tries ower soon to flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folks are sure to tumble when they climb ower hie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They wha dinna walk right are sure to come to wrang—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep awa', my bairnie—creep afore ye gang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5AE_GUDE_TURN_DESERVES_ANITHER" id="vol5AE_GUDE_TURN_DESERVES_ANITHER"></a>AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The puirest bodie is still your brither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king may come in the cadger's gate—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae gude turn deserves anither.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_206" id="vol5Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hale o' us rise frae the same cauld clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae hour we bloom, ae hour we wither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let ilk help ither to climb the brae—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae gude turn deserves anither.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The highest among us are unco wee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoard na, man, what ye get sae free!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae gude turn deserves anither.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life is a weary journey alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blithe 's the road when we wend wi' ither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mutual gi'ing is mutual gain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ae gude turn deserves anither.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_NAMELESS_LASSIE" id="vol5THE_NAMELESS_LASSIE"></a>THE NAMELESS LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nane may ken the humble cot my lassie ca's her hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet though my lassie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart is warm, her thochts are pure, and, oh! she 's dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's gentle as she 's bonnie, an' she 's modest as she 's fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they 're rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_207" id="vol5Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whene'er she shews her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when wi' ither's sorrows touch'd, the tear starts to her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that 's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within my soul her form 's enshrined, her heart is a' my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' richer prize or purer bliss nae mortal e'er can gain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkest paths o' life I tread wi' steps o' bounding glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer'd onward by the love that lichts my nameless lassie's e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5BONNIE_BONALY" id="vol5BONNIE_BONALY"></a>BONNIE BONALY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmurs and sobs like a child in a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falling where silver light gleams on its breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gliding through nooks where the dark shadows rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flooding with music its own tiny valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dances in gladness the stream o' Bonaly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Proudly Bonaly's gray-brow'd castle towers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounded by mountains, and bedded in flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here hangs the blue bell, and there waves the broom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurtured by art, rarest garden sweets bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing amang the green knolls o' Bonaly.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_208" id="vol5Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pentland's high hills raise their heather-crown'd crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peerless Edina expands her white breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty and grandeur are blent in the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Bonaly lies smiling between;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and Art, like fair twins, wander gaily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friendship and love dwell in bonnie Bonaly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5SAFT_IS_THE_BLINK_O_THINE_EE_LASSIE" id="vol5SAFT_IS_THE_BLINK_O_THINE_EE_LASSIE"></a>SAFT IS THE BLINK O' THINE E'E, LASSIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saft is the blink o' thine e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a bonnie wee sun glimmers in its blue orb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As kindly it glints upon me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ringlets that twine round thy brow, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are gowden, as gowden may be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the wee curly cluds that play round the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he 's just going to drap in the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast a bonnie wee mou', lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sweet as a body may pree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly I 'll pree that wee hinny mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en though thou shouldst frown upon me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast a lily-white hand, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fair as a body may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' saft is the touch o' that wee genty hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At e'en when thou partest wi' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy thoughts are sae haly and pure, lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy heart is sae kind and sae free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom is flooded wi' sunshine an' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' ilka blithe blink o' thine e'e.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_209" id="vol5Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MAIR_THAT_YE_WORK_AYE_THE_MAIR_WILL_YE_WIN" id="vol5THE_MAIR_THAT_YE_WORK_AYE_THE_MAIR_WILL_YE_WIN"></a>THE MAIR THAT YE WORK, AYE THE MAIR WILL YE WIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be eident, be eident, bricht day will be gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand idle by is a profitless sin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The earth gathers fragrance while nursing the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wave waxes stronger while feeding the shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream gains in speed as it sweeps o'er the linn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nought got by idling, there 's nought got for nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Health, wealth, and contentment, by labour are bought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In raising yoursel', ye may help up your kin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let every man aim in his heart to excel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let every man ettle to fend for himsel';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye nourish ye stern independence within:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_WIDOW" id="vol5THE_WIDOW"></a>THE WIDOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The widow is feckless, the widow 's alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet nae ane e'er hears the puir widow complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, ah! there 's a Friend that the world wots na o',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha brightens her ken, and wha lightens her wo.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_210" id="vol5Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looks a' around her, and what sees she there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But quarrels and cavils, but sorrow and care?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looks in within, and she feels in her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dawning o' glory, a foretaste o' rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hope o' hereafter her lane bosom cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She langs sair to meet him wha left her in tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life's flickerin' licht, as it wanes fast awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fades to gie place to a far brichter daw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The God o' high heaven is her comfort and guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earthly friends leave her, He stands by her side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He soothes a' her sorrows, an' hushes her fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fountains o' joy rise frae well-springs o' tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, oh! shew the widow the smile on your face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's aft puir in gear, but she 's aft rich in grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be kind to the widow, her Friend is on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You 'll meet wi' the widow again in the sky.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_211" id="vol5Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5MRS_ELIZA_A_H_OGILVY" id="vol5MRS_ELIZA_A_H_OGILVY"></a>MRS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY.</h2> + +<p>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_212" id="vol5Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CRAIG_ELACHIE" id="vol5CRAIG_ELACHIE"></a>CRAIG ELACHIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue are the hills above the Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rocks are red that line his way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green is the strath his waters lave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh the turf upon the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sleep my sire and sisters three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where none are left to mourn for me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The roofs that shelter'd me and mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold strangers of a Sassenach line;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hamlet thresholds ne'er can shew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friendly forms of long ago;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rooks upon the old yew-tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would e'en have stranger notes to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cattle feeding on the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We tended once o'er moors and rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like us have gone; the silly sheep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now fleck the brown sides of the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And southern eyes their watchers be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Gael and Sassenach ne'er agree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are the elders of our glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise arbiters for meaner men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are the sportsmen, keen of eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who track'd the roe against the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quick of hand, of spirit free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass'd, like a harper's melody:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_213" id="vol5Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are the maidens of our vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fair, frank daughters of the Gael?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed are they all, and changed the wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dared, for love, the Indian's life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little child she bore to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk in the vast Atlantic sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bare are the moors of broad Strathspey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaggy the western forests gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild is the corri's autumn roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilder the floods of this far shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark are the crags of rushing Dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darker the shades of Tennessee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great rock, by which the Grant hath sworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first amid the mountains born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great rock, whose sterile granite heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows not, like us, misfortune's smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river sporting at thy knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy stern brow no change can see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stand fast on thine own Scottish ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Scottish mountains flank'd around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though we uprooted, cast away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the warm bosom of Strathspey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flung pining by this western sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The exile's hopeless lot must dree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet strong as thou the Grant shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleft from his clansmen's sympathies;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_214" id="vol5Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In these grim wastes new homes we 'll rear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New scenes shall wear old names so dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while our axes fell the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resound old Scotia's minstrelsy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here can no treacherous chief betray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sordid gain our new Strathspey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fearful king, no statesmen pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrench the strong claymore from the Gael.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arm'd wrist and kilted knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No prairie Indian half so free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_215" id="vol5Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_FINLAY" id="vol5JOHN_FINLAY"></a>JOHN FINLAY.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_216" id="vol5Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_NOBLE_SCOTTISH_GAME" id="vol5THE_NOBLE_SCOTTISH_GAME"></a>THE NOBLE SCOTTISH GAME.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Castles in the Air."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The King is on the throne wi' his sceptre an' his croon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elements o' cauld are the courtiers staunin' roun';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lifts his icy haun', an' he speaks wi' awe profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chills the balmy air, and he binds the yielding ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calms the raging winds when they moan and loudly rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stops the rinnin' stream, and he stills the dancin' wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calls the curlers on to the field of hope and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the spreading lake resounds wi' the noble Scottish game!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hedges an' the trees are a' hung wi' pearls braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the rinks are glancing clear 'mang the heaps o' shinin' snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee birds in the blast are a' tremblin' wi' the cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sheep are lyin' close in the safely guarded fauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The farmer leaves the plough, an' the weaver leaves the loom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld age gangs totterin' by wi' the youth in manhood's bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The miseries o' life are a' banish'd far frae hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the curlers meet to play at the brave old Scottish game!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It makes the auld folk young, an' the crimson tide to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gars the pale face shine wi' a fresh and ruddy glow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_217" id="vol5Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The rich forget their state and the charms o' wealth and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the bosom swells wi' joy in the bright triumphant hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise may laugh an' sneer, and the unco guid may gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the happy, happy man, wi' his curlin' stanes and broom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The melody to charm is the sport we love to name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! there 's music in the stanes, at the rare old Scottish game!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The warm and glowin' clime will subdue the manly form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curler's happy hame is the land o' mist an' storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dreary winter reigns wi' a wide extended sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the heathy moors are clad in a robe o' white array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the gentle breath o' spring blaws the icy fields awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo the springin' flowers, and to melt the frozen snaw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the curlin' days are o'er, a' the joys o' life are tame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's naething warms the heart like the noble Scottish game!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_218" id="vol5Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MERRY_BOWLING-GREEN" id="vol5THE_MERRY_BOWLING-GREEN"></a>THE MERRY BOWLING-GREEN.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Castles in the Air."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gloomy days are gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the blasts o' winter keen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers are blooming fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the trees are budding green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark is in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With his music ringing loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raining notes of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the sunny Summer cloud—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springing at the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the blushing light of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And quivering with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the morning's golden ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's rapture dearer far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the warm and social power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the merry bowling-green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the happy evening hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lights and shades of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like an April day, are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the melting sunny showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the lively bowling-green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Spring and Autumn meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the old and young are there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mirth and wisdom chase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the heart the thoughts of care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the creaking wheels of life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are revolving weak and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dashing tide of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May be ebbing dark and low,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_219" id="vol5Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The sons of wealth and toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feel the sweet and soothing power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the merry bowling-green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the charming leisure hour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The streams of life run on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till they fall into the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flowers are left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their fragrance on the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The circling flight of time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will soon make the young folk old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasure dances on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the springs of life grow cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll taste the joys of life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the hours are gliding fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learn to live and love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the follies of the past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And remember with delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When misfortunes intervene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happy days we 've spent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the merry bowling-green.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_220" id="vol5Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5THOMAS_TOD_STODDART" id="vol5THOMAS_TOD_STODDART"></a>THOMAS TOD STODDART.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_221" id="vol5Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5ANGLING_SONG" id="vol5ANGLING_SONG"></a>ANGLING SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring the rod, the line, the reel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring, oh, bring the osier creel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring me flies of fifty kinds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring me showers, and clouds, and winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All things right and tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">All things well and proper,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Trailer red and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Dark and wily dropper;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Casts of midges bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Made of plover hackle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a gaudy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And a cobweb tackle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lead me where the river flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shew me where the alder grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reel and rushes, moss and mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To them lead me—quickly lead,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_222" id="vol5Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Where the roving trout<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Watches round an eddy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With his eager snout<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pointed up and ready,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till a careless fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the surface wheeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tempts him, rising sly<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From his safe concealing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, as with a pleasant friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I the happy hours will spend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urging on the subtle hook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the dark and chancy nook,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a hand expert<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Every motion swaying,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And on the alert<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When the trout are playing;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bring me rod and reel,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Flies of every feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bring the osier creel,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Send me glorious weather!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LET_ITHER_ANGLERS" id="vol5LET_ITHER_ANGLERS"></a>LET ITHER ANGLERS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let ither anglers choose their ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ither waters tak' the lead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' Hieland streams we covet nane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But gie to us the bonnie Tweed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gie to us the cheerfu' burn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That steals into its valley fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streamlets that at ilka turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae saftly meet an' mingle there.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_223" id="vol5Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lanesome Tala and the Lyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Manor wi' its mountain rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Etterick, whose waters twine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' Yarrow, frae the forest hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Gala, too, an' Teviot bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mony a stream o' playfu' speed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their kindred valleys a' unite<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the braes o' bonnie Tweed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's no a hole abune the Crook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor stane nor gentle swirl aneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor drumlie rill, nor fairy brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That daunders through the flowrie heath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye may fin' a subtle troot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' gleamin' ower wi' starn an' bead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a sawmon sooms aboot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Below the bields o' bonnie Tweed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Frae Holylee to Clovenford,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A chancier bit ye canna hae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So gin ye tak' an' angler's word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'd through the whins an' ower the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' work awa' wi' cunnin' hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yer birzy hackles black and reid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The saft sough o' a slender wand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is meetest music for the Tweed!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BRITISH_OAK" id="vol5THE_BRITISH_OAK"></a>THE BRITISH OAK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The oak is Britain's pride!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lordliest of trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of her forest side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The guardian of her seas!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_224" id="vol5Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Its hundred arms are brandish'd wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To brave the wintry breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our hearts shall never quail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Below the servile yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long as our seamen trim the sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wake the battle smoke—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long as they stem the stormy gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On planks of British oak!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then in its native mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The golden acorn lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch with care the bursting seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guard the tender spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">England will bless us for the deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some far future day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! plant the acorn tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon each Briton's grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall our island ever be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The island of the brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother-nurse of liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And empress o'er the wave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5PEACE_IN_WAR" id="vol5PEACE_IN_WAR"></a>PEACE IN WAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace be upon their banners!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our war-ships leave the bay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the anchor is weigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the gales<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fill the sails,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they stray—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_225" id="vol5Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the signals are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the anchor is weigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shores of England fade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace be upon their banners,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they cross the stormy main!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May they no aggressors prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Britain's right<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To maintain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, unconquer'd, as they move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May they no aggressors prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to guard the land we love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long flourish England's commerce!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May her navies ever glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With concord in their lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ranging free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Every sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far and wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at their country's need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thunders in their lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the ocean eagles speed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To her side!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_226" id="vol5Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_MACLAGAN12" id="vol5ALEXANDER_MACLAGAN12"></a>ALEXANDER MACLAGAN.<a name="vol5FNanchor_12_12" id="vol5FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_227" id="vol5Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>In 1829, while yet an apprentice, Maclagan became connected with the +<i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_228" id="vol5Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_229" id="vol5Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5CURLING_SONG" id="vol5CURLING_SONG"></a>CURLING SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A health to a' that love the name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah for Scotland's darling game,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pastime o' the free, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While head, an' heart, an' arm are strang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll a' join in a patriot's sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing its praises loud and lang—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hurrah, hurrah, for Scotland's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A health to a' that love the name;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hurrah for Scotland's darling game;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gie hunter chaps their break-neck hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their slaughtering guns amang the muirs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let wily fisher prove his powers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the flinging o' the flee, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let us pledge ilk hardy chiel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha's hand is sure, wha's heart is leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha's glory 's on a brave bonspiel—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In ancient days—fame tells the fact—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Scotland's heroes werena slack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heads o' stubborn foes to crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak' the feckless flee, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' brave hearts, beating true and warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They aften tried the curlin' charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheer the heart and nerve the arm—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_230" id="vol5Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May love and friendship crown our cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a' the joys to curlers dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hae this nicht some heroes here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We aye are blythe to see, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' brithers brave are they, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May fickle Fortune, slippery queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye keep their ice baith clear and clean—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May health an' strength their toils reward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should misfortune's gales blow hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our task will be to plant a guard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or guide them to the tee, boys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's three times three for curlin' scenes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's three times three for curlin' freen's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here 's three times three for beef an' greens—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A' ye that love auld Scotland's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' ye that love auld Scotland's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' ye that love auld Scotland's game,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glorious sicht to see, boys—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, brothers, up, drive care awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, brothers, up, ne'er think o' thaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, brothers, up, and sing hurrah—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roarin' rink for me, boys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_AULD_MEAL_MILL" id="vol5THE_AULD_MEAL_MILL"></a>THE AULD MEAL MILL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The auld meal mill—oh, the auld meal mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a dream o' my schule-days, it haunts me still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sun's simmer blink on the face o' a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands the love o' my boyhood, the auld meal mill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_231" id="vol5Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stream frae the mountain, rock-ribbit and brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a peal o' loud laughter, comes rattlin' down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tak' my word for 't, my friend, 'tis na puny rill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ca's the big wheel o' the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When flashin' and dashin' the paddles flee round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The miller's blythe whistle aye blends wi' the sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spray, like the bricht draps whilk rainbows distil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fa' in showers o' red gowd round the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild Hielan' heather grows thick on its thack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ivy and apple-tree creep up its back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightning-wing'd swallow, wi' Nature's ain skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Builds its nest 'neath the eaves o' the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Keep your e'e on the watch-dog, for Cæsar kens weel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wild gipsy laddies are tryin' to steal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he lies like a lamb, and licks wi' good will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard, horny hand that brings grist to the mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are mony queer jokes 'bout the auld meal mill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are noo sober folks 'bout the auld meal mill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ance it was said that a het Hielan' still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was aften at wark near the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the plough 's at its rest, the sheep i' the fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic' gatherin's are there, baith o' young folk and auld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The herd blaws his horn, richt bauldly and shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' to bring doon his clan to the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sic jumpin' o'er barrows, o'er hedges and harrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The men o' the mill can scarce fin' their marrows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lang-barrell'd guns wad an armory fill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's some capital shots near the auld meal mill.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_232" id="vol5Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At blithe penny-weddin' or christ'nin' a wee ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic' ribbons, sic' ringlets, sic feather's are fleein';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic' laughin', sic' daffin', sic dancin', until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laft near comes doon o' the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae listen'd to music—ilk varying tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae the harp's deein' fa' to the bagpipe's drone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nane stirs my heart wi' sae happy a thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sound o' the wheel o' the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Success to the mill and the merry mill-wheel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang, lang may it grind aye the wee bairnies' meal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the miller—wha often, wi' heart and good-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills the widow's toom pock at the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The auld meal mill—oh, the auld meal mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a dream o' my schule days it haunts me still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sun's summer blink on the face o' a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands the love o' my boyhood, the auld meal mill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_THISTLE" id="vol5THE_THISTLE"></a>THE THISTLE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fig for the flowers, in your lady-built bowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strong-bearded, weel-guarded thistle for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the flower the proud eagle greets in its flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he shadows the stars with the wings of his might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the flower that laughs at the storm as it blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the stronger the tempest, the greener it grows!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hurrah for the thistle,&c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_233" id="vol5Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Round the love-lighted hames o' our ain native land—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bonneted brow, on the hilt of the brand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the face o' the shield, 'mid the shouts o' the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the thistle be seen where the thistle should be!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hurrah for the thistle, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hale hearts we hae yet to bleed in its cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bold harps we hae yet to sound its applause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, then, can it fade, when sic chiels an' sic cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sae mony braw sprouts o' the thistle are here?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fig for the flowers in your lady-built bowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The strong-bearded, well-guarded thistle for me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SCOTCH_BLUE_BELL" id="vol5THE_SCOTCH_BLUE_BELL"></a>THE SCOTCH BLUE BELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The dear blue-bell for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For a' the flowers I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lo'e thee weel, thou Scotch blue-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hail thee, floweret fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether thou bloom'st in lanely dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wavest mid mountain air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe springing frae our bare, rough rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fountain's flowery brink:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, fleet as wind, in thirsty flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deer descend to drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Scotch blue-bell,&c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_234" id="vol5Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet flower! thou deck'st the sacred nook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside love's trystin' tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee bend to kiss the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That kindly kisseth thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang my love's locks ye 're aften seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blithe noddin' o'er her brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet marrows to her lovely een<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' deep endearin' blue!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Scotch blue-bell, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When e'enin's gowden curtains hing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er moor and mountain gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear the blue-bells ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dirge to deein' day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the licht o' mornin' wakes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young dew-drooket flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear amid their merry peals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mirth o' bridal hours!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Scotch blue-bell, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How oft wi' rapture hae I stray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain's heather crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There aft wi' thee hae I array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Mary's maiden breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft tremblin' mark'd amang thy bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bosom fa' and rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like snawy cloud that sinks and swells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath summer's deep blue skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Scotch blue-bell, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! weel ye guess when morning daws,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I seek the blue-bell grot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weel ye guess, when e'enin' fa's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae sweet, I leave it not;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_235" id="vol5Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' when upon my tremblin' breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reclines my maiden fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st full well that I am blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And free frae ilka care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The dear blue-bell for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For a' the flowers I see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_ROCKIN" id="vol5THE_ROCKIN"></a>THE ROCKIN'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ingle cheek is bleezin' bricht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The croozie sheds a cheerfu' licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' happy hearts are here the nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To haud a rantin' rockin'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's laughin' Lizzie, free o' care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's Mary, wi' the modest air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Kitty, wi' the gowden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will a' be at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's Bessie, wi' her spinnin' wheel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's Jeanie Deans, wha sings sae weel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Meg, sae daft about a reel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will a' be at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ploughman, brave as Wallace wicht;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weaver, wi' his wit sae bricht;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vulcan, wi' his arm o' micht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will a' be at the rockin'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_236" id="vol5Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shepherd, wi' his eagle e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindly heart an' rattlin' glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wonder-workin' dominie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will a' be at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The miller, wi' his mealy mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha kens sae weel the way to woo—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His faither's pipes frae Waterloo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 'll bring to cheer our rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The souter, wi' his bristly chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae whilk the lasses screechin' rin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curly-headed whupper-in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will a' be at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's merry jokes to cheer the auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's love an' joy to warm the cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's sangs o' weir to fire the bauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae prove our merry rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tales they tell, the sangs they sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will gar the auld clay biggin' ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some will dance the Highland fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right blithely at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' wit, an' love, an' fun, an' fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond friendship will each soul inspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mirth will get her heart's desire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' rantin', at the rockin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sair foredung wi' crabbit care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When days come dark whilk promised fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheer the gloom, just come an' share<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pleasures o' our rockin'.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_237" id="vol5Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_WIDOW_2" id="vol5THE_WIDOW_2"></a>THE WIDOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the heart o' this warld 's as hard as a stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though totterin' noo, like her auld crazy biel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her step ance the lichtest on hairst-rig or reel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though sighs tak' the place o' the heart-cheerin' strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though humble her biggin', and scanty her store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beggar ne'er yet went unserved frae her door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she aft lifts the lid o' her girnel in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though thin, thin her locks, noo like hill-drifted snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ance sae glossy and black, like the wing o' the craw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though grief frae her mild cheek the red rose has ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sang o' the lark finds the Widow asteer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birr o' her wheel starts the nicht's dreamy ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears o'er the tow-tap will whiles fa' like rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye may hear in her speech, ye may see in her claes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That auld Widow Miller has seen better days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere her auld Robin dee'd, sae fond an' sae fain'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_238" id="vol5Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sad was the hour when the brave Forty-twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' their wild-sounding pipes, march'd her callant awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she schules, feeds, an' cleeds his wee orphan wean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye wild wintry winds, ye blaw surly and sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the heart that is sad, on the wa's that are bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When care counts the links o' life's heavy chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor heart is hopeless that winna complain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Sabbath-day comes, and the Widow is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the aisle o' the auld kirk, baith tidy and clean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she aft sits for hours on the mossy grave-stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' then when she turns frae the grave's lanely sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe out her soul in the ear of her God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What she utters to Him is no kent to ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye wealthy an' wise in this fair world o' ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your fields wave wi' gowd, your gardens wi' flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ye bind up the sheaves, leave out a few grains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the heart-broken Widow wha never complains.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_HIGHLAND_PLAID" id="vol5THE_HIGHLAND_PLAID"></a>THE HIGHLAND PLAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though ye hae nor kith nor kin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' few to tak' your part, love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy hame ye'll ever fin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within my glowing heart, love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_239" id="vol5Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So! while I breathe the breath o' life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Misfortune ne'er shall steer ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Highland Plaid is warm an' wide—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep closer, my wee dearie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thunder loud, the burstin' cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May speak o' ghaists an' witches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' spunkie lichts may lead puir wichts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through bogs an' droonin' ditches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's no ae imp in a' the host<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This nicht will daur come near ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Highland Plaid is warm an' wide—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep closer, my wee dearie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why do you heave sic heavy sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why do ye sab sae sair, love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Altho' beneath my rustic plaid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An earl's star I wear love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I woo'd ye as a shepherd youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as a queen revere thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Highland plaid is warm an' wide—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Creep closer, my wee deerie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_FLOWER_O_GLENCOE" id="vol5THE_FLOWER_O_GLENCOE"></a>THE FLOWER O' GLENCOE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! dear to my heart are my heather-clad mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the echoes that burst from their caverns below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild woods that darken the face of their fountains—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The haunts of the wild deer an' fleet-footed roe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer to me is the bower o' green bushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That flowers the green bank where the Tay gladly gushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there, all in tears, an' deep crimson'd wi' blushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I won the young heart o' the Flower o' Glencoe.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_240" id="vol5Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Contented I lived in my canty auld biggin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Till Britain grew wud wi' the threats o' a foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I drew my claymore frae the heather-clad riggin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My forefathers wielded some cent'ries ago.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though Mary kent weel that my heart was nae ranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the thoughts o' my wa'-gaun, the dread an' the danger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' famine and death in the land o' the stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drave the bloom frae the cheek o' the Flower o' Glencoe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But success crown'd our toils—ye hae a' heard the story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How we beat the proud French, an' their eagles laid low—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've walth o' war's wounds, an' a share o' its glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the love o' auld Scotland wherever I go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, now fill the wine cup! let love tell the measure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toast the maid of your heart, an' I'll pledge you with pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a bumper I claim to my heart's dearest treasure—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fair-bosom'd, warm-hearted Flower o' Glencoe.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_241" id="vol5Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5MRS_JANE_C_SIMPSON" id="vol5MRS_JANE_C_SIMPSON"></a>MRS JANE C. SIMPSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Greenock Advertiser</i>, while her father for a short time resided in +that town, as assessor to the Magistrates. To the pages of the +<i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i> she afterwards contributed numerous +poetical compositions, and subsequently various articles in prose and +verse to the <i>Scottish Christian Herald</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_242" id="vol5Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5GENTLENESS" id="vol5GENTLENESS"></a>GENTLENESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis this has bound my soul so long, so tenderly, to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle heart, like jewel bright, beneath the ocean blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every look and tone of thine, still shining sweetly through!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though the crowd with wonder bow, before great genius' fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wit, with lightning flash, commands to reverence and admire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis gentleness alone that gains the tribute of our love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And falls upon the ear, like dew on flowers, from heaven above!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! many a day has pass'd since then, yet I remember well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once from my lips an angry thought, in hasty accents fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A word of wrath I utter'd, in a light and wayward mood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wrath to thee, my earliest friend, the noble and the good!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No answering words were given for mine, but, calm and bright as now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy speaking eyes a moment dwelt upon my ruffled brow,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_243" id="vol5Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And then a sweet, forgiving smile came o'er thy pensive face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy hand was softly tender'd me, with melancholy grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An instant mute and motionless, before thee did I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gazed upon thy placid mien, thy smile, thy proffer'd hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! ne'er could angel, sent to walk this earth of sinful men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look lovelier in his robes of light, than thou to me wert then!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I long'd to weep—I strove to speak—no words came from my tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then silently to thy embrace, I wildly, fondly sprung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sting of guilt, like lightning, struck to my awaken'd mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could have borne to meet thy wrath—'twas death to see thee kind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis ever thus! when anger wins but anger in return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trifle grows a thing of weight, and fast the fire will burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when reproachful words are still in mild forgiveness past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The proudest soul will own his fault, and melt in tears at last!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Gentleness! thy gentleness, so beautiful to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will ever bind my heart in love and tenderness to thee;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_244" id="vol5Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I bless thee for all high-born thoughts, that fill that breast of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But most, I bless thee for that gift of gentleness divine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HE_LOVED_HER_FOR_HER_MERRY_EYE" id="vol5HE_LOVED_HER_FOR_HER_MERRY_EYE"></a>HE LOVED HER FOR HER MERRY EYE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her merry eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, like the vesper star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In evening's blue and deepening sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed light and joy afar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That o'er her shoulders hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her happy voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music of her tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her airy form<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of animated grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved her for the light of soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That brighten'd in her face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her simple heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shrine of gentle things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved her for her sunny hopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her gay imaginings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not for him that bosom beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or glanced that merry eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath whose diamond light he felt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It would be heaven to die.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_245" id="vol5Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He never told her of his love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He breathed no prayer—no vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sat in silence by her side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gazed upon her brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when, at length, she pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another's smiling bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made his home 'mid ocean's waves—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He died upon its tide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LIFE_AND_DEATH" id="vol5LIFE_AND_DEATH"></a>LIFE AND DEATH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To live in cities—and to join<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loud and busy throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who press with mad and giddy haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pleasure's chase along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To yield the soul to fashion's rules,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition's varied strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne like a leaf upon the stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! no—this is not life!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To pass the calm and pleasant hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By wild wood, hill, and grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find a heaven in solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With one we deeply love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know the wealth of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That each to each can give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feel no power can sever us—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! this it is to live!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_246" id="vol5Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not death, when on the couch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sickness we are laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all our spirit wasted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the bloom of youth decay'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel the shadow dim our eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pant for failing breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then break at length life's feeble hain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, no! this is not death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To part from one beneath whose smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We long were used to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the lips we love pronounce<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A passionate farewell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the last <i>too</i> tender glance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of an adoring eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weep in solitude of heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! this it is to die!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5GOOD_NIGHT" id="vol5GOOD_NIGHT"></a>GOOD NIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! the silver stars are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On evening's placid brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have been long together, love—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We must part now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! I never can forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This long bright summer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We pass'd among the woods and streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_247" id="vol5Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! we have had happy smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond dreams, and wishes true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holier thoughts and communings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weeping too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! perchance I ne'er may spend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again so sweet a time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone with Nature and with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my life's prime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! yet e'er we sever, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Take thou this faded flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay it next thy heart, against<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our meeting hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night! the silver stars are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy homeward way to light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember this long summer day—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good night! good night!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_248" id="vol5Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ANDREW_PARK" id="vol5ANDREW_PARK"></a>ANDREW PARK.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_249" id="vol5Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HURRAH_FOR_THE_HIGHLANDS" id="vol5HURRAH_FOR_THE_HIGHLANDS"></a>HURRAH FOR THE HIGHLANDS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah for the Highlands! the stern Scottish Highlands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The home of the clansmen, the brave and the free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the clouds love to rest, on the mountain's rough breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis there where the cataract sings to the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his fleet tiny bark, through the perilous night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the land of deep shadow, of sunshine, and shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hurricane revels in madness on high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there it has might that can war with its power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the wild dizzy cliffs that are cleaving the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have trod merry England, and dwelt on its charms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have wander'd through Erin, that gem of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the Highlands alone the true Scottish heart warms—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heather is blooming, her eagles are free!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_250" id="vol5Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OLD_SCOTLAND_I_LOVE_THEE" id="vol5OLD_SCOTLAND_I_LOVE_THEE"></a>OLD SCOTLAND, I LOVE THEE!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy cloud-cover'd hills that look up from the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wave sternly their wild woods aloft in the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flies the bold eagle in freedom on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through regions of cloud in its wild native sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O name not the land where the olive-tree grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the land of the shamrock, nor land of the rose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shew me the thistle that waves its proud head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er heroes whose blood for their country was shed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then tell me of bards and of warriors bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wielded their brands in the battles of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who conquer'd and died for their loved native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its maidens so fair, and its mountains so grand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, old Scotland, I love thee! thou 'rt dearer to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all lands that are girt by the wide-rolling sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though asleep not in sunshine, like islands afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou 'rt gallant in love, and triumphant in war!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_251" id="vol5Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5FLOWERS_OF_SUMMER" id="vol5FLOWERS_OF_SUMMER"></a>FLOWERS OF SUMMER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flowers of summer, sweetly springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deck the dewy lap of earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds of love are fondly singing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their gay and jocund mirth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streams are pouring from their fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Echoing through each rugged dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heather bells adorn the mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid the city, love! farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the boughs are rich in blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through each sunlit, silent grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast all sorrow from thy bosom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Freedom is the soul of love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us o'er the valleys wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor a frown within us dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in joy see Nature's grandeur—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid the city, love! farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Morning's sun shall then invite us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the ever sparkling streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evening's fall again delight us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its crimson-coloured beams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers of summer sweetly springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deck the dewy lap of earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds of love are loudly singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their gay and jocund mirth.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_252" id="vol5Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5HOME_OF_MY_FATHERS" id="vol5HOME_OF_MY_FATHERS"></a>HOME OF MY FATHERS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In joy or in sorrow, my heart turns to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In visions of night o'er thy loved scenes I wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dwell with those friends that are dearest to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thy blue hills, where the thunders are leaping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where springs the loud cascade to caverns below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds round their summits their dark watch are keeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy ravines are streak'd with the purest of snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Warm are thy hearts, though thy breezes be chilly;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rosy thy maidens, and artless and gay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cradled on high lie thy lakes pure and stilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surrounded by mountains gigantic and gray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy stern thistle still shoots aloft in its glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sheds its bright dew tears o'er old heroes' graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rudely rear'd cairns echo many a story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those who fell bravely, who scorn'd to be slaves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of the pibroch, the plaid, and the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lake and the mountain, the streamlet and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green thoughts of youth do not easily wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But dwell on thy charms, and thy bravest of men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both genius and love have in raptures hung o'er thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wafted thy name in sweet sounds o'er the sea—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_253" id="vol5Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Till nations afar have bent low to adore thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home of my fathers! my heart turns to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5WHAT_AILS_MY_HEART" id="vol5WHAT_AILS_MY_HEART"></a>WHAT AILS MY HEART?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ails my heart—what dims my e'e?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What maks you seem sae wae, Jamie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye werena aye sae cauld to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye ance were blythe and gay, Jamie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm wae to see you, like a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kill'd by the winter's snaw, Jamie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Droop farer down frae hour to hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' waste sae fast awa, Jamie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm sure your Jeanie's kind and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She loves nae ane but thee, Jamie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ne'er has gien thee cause to rue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If sae—ye still are free, Jamie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I winna tak your hand and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If there is ane mair dear, Jamie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd sooner far for ever part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thee—though wi' a tear, Jamie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then tell me your doubts and your fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep naething hid frae me, Jamie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ye afraid o' coming years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' darker days to me, Jamie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll share your grief, I 'll share your joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They 'll come alike to me, Jamie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misfortune's hand may all destroy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except my love for thee, Jamie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_254" id="vol5Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5AWAY_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS" id="vol5AWAY_TO_THE_HIGHLANDS"></a>AWAY TO THE HIGHLANDS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away to the Highlands, where Lomond is flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though scenes of the fairest are Windsor adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though England's proud structures enrapture the view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Nature's wild grandeur, all artifice scorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is seen 'mong our mountains so bonnie and blue.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then away to the hills where Loch Lomond is flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Benlomond is seen in his monarch-like glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His foot in the sea and his head in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His broad lofty brow is majestic and hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And round him, and round him the elements fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds are his music, the clouds are his clothing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun is his shield, as he wheels blazing by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When once on his summit you 'd think you were soaring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong bright beaming stars, they are rolling so nigh!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then away to the hills where Loch Lomond is flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where mists and where mountains in solitude lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And where the braw red-lipp'd heather is growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And cataracts foam, as they came from the sky!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_255" id="vol5Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5I_M_AWAY" id="vol5I_M_AWAY"></a>I 'M AWAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar o'er the mountains, afar o'er the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To revel in joy 'mid the glad summer beam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leave care behind me, I throw to the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sorrows allied to the earth-plodding mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of birds and the murmur of rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be my companions o'er Scotia's loved hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How lucent each lake, and how lovely each dell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who would not be happy, at home let him dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, land of my fathers! Oh, home of my birth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No spot seems so blest on the round rolling earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy wild woods so green, and thy mountains so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem homes of enchantment half hid in the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy steep winding passes, where warriors have trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which minstrels of yore often made their abode—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Ossian and Fingal rehearsed runic tales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That echo'd aloft o'er the furze cover'd dales.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How lucent each lake, and how lovely each dell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who would not be happy, at home let him dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm away, I 'm away, like a thing that is wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heart full of glee, as the heart of a child!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_256" id="vol5Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THERE_IS_A_BONNIE_BLUSHING_FLOWER" id="vol5THERE_IS_A_BONNIE_BLUSHING_FLOWER"></a>THERE IS A BONNIE, BLUSHING FLOWER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a bonnie, blushing flower—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ah! I darena breathe the name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain would steal it frae its bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a' should think me sair to blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It smiles sae sweet amang the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like brightest star where ither's shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I place it in my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make this bonnie blossom mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At morn, at sunny noon, whene'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see this fair, this fav'rite flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart beats high with wish sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wile it frae its bonnie bower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! I fear to own its charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or tear it frae its parent stem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For should it wither in mine arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What would revive my bonnie gem?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awa', ye coward thoughts, awa'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That flower can never fade with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That frae the wintry winds that blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round each neglected bud is free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, it shall only bloom more fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When cherished and adored by me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' my joy, and a' my care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This bonnie, blushing flower shall be!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_257" id="vol5Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MAID_OF_GLENCOE" id="vol5THE_MAID_OF_GLENCOE"></a>THE MAID OF GLENCOE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>"Come under my plaidie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once more in the Highlands I wander alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the thistle and heather are bonnie and blown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By mountain and streamlet, by cavern and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where echo repeats the sweet wood-notes again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give courtiers their gay-gilded halls and their grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give misers their gold, all the bliss they can know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let me meet Flora, while pensive I wander—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Flora, dear Flora! the maid of Glencoe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, first when we met, being handsome and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt she had stole my affections away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mavis sang loud on the sweet hawthorn tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her voice was more sweet and endearing to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun spread his rays of bright gold o'er the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours glided by without languor or woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we pull'd the sweet flowers from the steep rocky mountains—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My blessings attend thee, sweet maid of Glencoe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glen is more rugged, the scene more sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hallow'd by love, and by absence, and time!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly resemble the thoughts of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untouch'd by the cold soothing fingers of art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! as I gaze on the charms of my childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where bright in the heath-bell the dew-drops still glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fairy-like form ushers forth from the wild wood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Flora, fair Flora! the maid of Glencoe.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_258" id="vol5Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5MARION_PAUL_AIRD" id="vol5MARION_PAUL_AIRD"></a>MARION PAUL AIRD.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol5FNanchor_13_13" id="vol5FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_FA_O_THE_LEAF" id="vol5THE_FA_O_THE_LEAF"></a>THE FA' O' THE LEAF.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wee birds, a' sangless, are dowie and wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green leaf is sear, an' the brown leaf is fa'in',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wan Nature lamentin' o'er simmer's decay.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_259" id="vol5Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noo drumlie an' dark row the siller-like waters,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No a gowden-e'ed gowan on a' the green lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her snell breath, wi' anger, in darkness noo scatters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wee flowers, that danced to the sang o' the bee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The green leaves o' simmer sing hopefu' an' cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When bonnie they smile in the sun's gowden ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dowie when sear leaves in autumn winds eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sigh, "Life, love, and beauty, as flowers ye decay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How waefu' the heart, where young hopes that gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like spring-flowers in simmer, "are a' wede awa';"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the rose-bloom o' beauty, e'er autumn winds wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like green leaves unfaded, lie cauld in the snaw:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But waefu' to see, as a naked tree lanely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man shake like a wan leaf in poortith's cauld blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last o' his kin, sighin', "Autumn is gane by,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the wrinkles o' eild tell "his simmer is past."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fire that 's blawn out, ance mair may be lighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a wee spark o' hope in the cauld heart may burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the "morning star" break on the traveller benighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' day, wi' its fresh gushing glories, return:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But dool, dool the fa', when shakes the clay shielin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the last keek o' day sets for ever in night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When no ae wee star through the dark clud is stealin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the cauld wave o' death, his dark spirit to light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spring flowers o' life, a' sae blythesome and bonnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though wither'd and torn frae the heart far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the flower we thought fadeless, the fairest o' onie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May spring up again whar nae freezin' winds blaw.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_260" id="vol5Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kin' spring 'll woo back the green "bud to the timmer,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its heart burst in blossom 'neath simmer's warm breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when shall the warm blush o' life's faded simmer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring back the rose-bloom frae the winter o' death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How kin' should the heart be, aye warm an' forgi'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When sune, like a leaf, we maun a' fade awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When life's winter day as a shadow is fleein'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But simmer aye shines whar nae autumn leaves fa'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_AULD_KIRK-YARD" id="vol5THE_AULD_KIRK-YARD"></a>THE AULD KIRK-YARD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Calm sleep the village dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But softly, slowly tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the weary, weary rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the green turf on their breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ashes o' the blest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flower the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! many a tale it hath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The auld kirk-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life's crooked thorny path<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mortality's thick gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds the sunny world's bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veils the mystery of doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_261" id="vol5Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thousand memories spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though time's death-brooding wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shade the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light of many a hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its music and its mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep in the deep dark earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae dreams disturb their sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hear nae kindred weep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sire, with silver hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother's heart of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young, the gay, the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crowd the auld kirk-yard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So live that ye may lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the auld kirk-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a passport to the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae the auld kirk-yard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when thy sand is run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life's weary warfare done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may sing o' victory won<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where there 's nae kirk-yard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5FAR_FAR_AWAY" id="vol5FAR_FAR_AWAY"></a>FAR, FAR AWAY.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Tune</span>—<i>"Long, long ago."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where not a cloud ever darkens the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_262" id="vol5Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fadeless the flowers in yon Eden that blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green, green the bowers where the still waters flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts, like their garments, are pure as the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There never trembles a sigh of regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars of the morning in glory ne'er set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I from sorrow for ever would rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaning in joy on Immanuel's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears never fall in the homes of the blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friends, there united in glory, ne'er part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One is their temple, their home, and their heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far, far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river of crystal, the city of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portals of pearl, such glory unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought cannot image, and tongue hath not told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far away; far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">List! what yon harpers on golden harps play;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, come away; come, come away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falling and frail is your cottage of clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, come away; come, come away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to these mansions, there 's room yet for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell with the Friend ever faithful and true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing ye the song, ever old, ever new;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, come away; come away.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_263" id="vol5Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_SINCLAIR" id="vol5WILLIAM_SINCLAIR"></a>WILLIAM SINCLAIR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>. 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_264" id="vol5Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_ROYAL_BREADALBANE_OAK" id="vol5THE_ROYAL_BREADALBANE_OAK"></a>THE ROYAL BREADALBANE OAK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy queenly hand, Victoria,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the mountain and the rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath planted 'midst the Highland hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Royal British Oak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou guardian of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou mistress of the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trebly dear shall be the ties<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shall bind us to thy name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere this Royal Oak shall rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thy fame, to thy fame!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The oak hath scatter'd terror<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er our foemen from our ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have given the voice of England's fame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thunders from their lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be mirror'd in the rills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall wave among the hills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rallying cry shall wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nigh the planted of thy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the loud acclaim may break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the land, o'er the land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While it waves unto the tempest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It shall call thy name to mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the "Gathering" 'mong the hills shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the rushing of the wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise! ye Gaels, arise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the echoes ring your cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By our mountain's rocky throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Victoria's name adored—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall reap her enemies down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the sword, with the sword!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_265" id="vol5Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, dear among the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall thy kindly blessing be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rough may be our mien we bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A loyal heart to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath its widely spreading shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the gentle Highland maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach the youths, who stand around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like brave slips from Freedom's tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thrice sacred is the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto thee, unto thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the bosom of the Highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hast left a glorious pledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the honour of our native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In every coming age:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy royal voice that spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the soil where springs the oak—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the freedom of the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That can never bear a slave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Breadalbane Oak shall stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the brave, with the brave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5EVENING" id="vol5EVENING"></a>EVENING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, how I love the evening hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its calm and tranquil sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the parting sun from a sea of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is passing silently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the western clouds—bright robes of heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest gently on the breast of even!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_266" id="vol5Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How calm, how gorgeous, and how pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How peaceful and serene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a promise and a hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enthroned o'er all the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, blushing, with resplendent pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright sun lingers on the tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The zephyrs on the waveless sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are wrapt in silent sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there is not a breath to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The slumbers of the deep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace sits on her imperial throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounds of sadness there are none!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear in distance harps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By heavenly seraphs strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the concave of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The holy vespers sung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou great Source of light and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We bless thee for the evening hour!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MARY_3" id="vol5MARY_3"></a>MARY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If there 's a word that whispers love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gentlest tones to hearts of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If there 's a name more prized above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loved with deeper love below,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">'Tis Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If there 's a healing sound beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soothe the heart in sorrow's hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If there 's a name that angels breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In silence with a deeper power,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">'Tis Mary.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_267" id="vol5Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It softly hangs on many a tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ladies' bower and sacred fane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetest name by poets sung—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The high and consecrated strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Is Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Scotia's Bard—life's holiest dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was his, the silent heavens above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the Bible o'er the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He vowed his early vows of love<br /></span> +<span class="i10">To Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, with the sweet repose of even,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By forest lone, by fragrant lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by thy beauties all, Loch Leven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How dear shall the remembrance be<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Of Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotland and Mary are entwined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With blooming wreath of fadeless green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And printed on the undying mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For, oh! her fair, though fated Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Was Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the lone forest and the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When smiles the thoughtful evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though other names may dearer be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweetest, gentlest, loveliest far,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Is Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5ABSENCE" id="vol5ABSENCE"></a>ABSENCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fields, the streams, the skies are fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's freshness in the balmy air,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_268" id="vol5Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A grandeur crowns thine ancient woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasure fills thy solitudes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweets are strewn where'er we rove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art not the land we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How glorious, from the eastern heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fulness of the dawn is given!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fair on ocean's glowing breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps the soft twilight of the west!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All radiant are thy stars above—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art not the land we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair flowers, that kiss the morning beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang their bright tresses o'er the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From morn to noon, from noon to even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet songsters lift soft airs to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From field and forest, vale and grove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art not the land we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To high and free imaginings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy master minstrels swept the strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brave thy sons to triumph led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy turf enshrouds the glorious dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Liberty thy chaplet wove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art not the land we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the far bosom of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flood of brightness rests on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stately to the bending skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy temples, domes, and turrets rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heavens—how fair they smile above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art not the land we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, for the bleak, the rocky strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountains of our native land!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_269" id="vol5Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for the torrents, wild, and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their rejoicing minstrelsy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heath below, the blue above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The altars of the land we love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5IS_NOT_THE_EARTH" id="vol5IS_NOT_THE_EARTH"></a>IS NOT THE EARTH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is not the earth a burial place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where countless millions sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The entrance to the abode of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where waiting mourners weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And myriads at his silent gates<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A constant vigil keep?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sculptor lifts his chisel, and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The final stroke is come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, dull as the marble lip he hews,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His stiffened lip is dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the Spoiler hath cast a holier work,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He hath called to a holier home!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The soldier bends his gleaming steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He counts his laurels o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speaks of the wreaths he yet may win<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On many a foreign shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his Master declares with a sterner voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He shall break a lance no more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mariner braved the deluge long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He bow'd to the sweeping blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled when the frowning heavens above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were the deepest overcast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath perish'd beneath a smiling sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He hath laid him down at last.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_270" id="vol5Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far in the sea's mysterious depths<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lowly dead are laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath not the ocean's dreadful voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their burial service said?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not the quiring tempests rung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dirges of the dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vales of our native land are strewn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a thousand pleasant things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The uplands rejoicing in the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the morning's flashing wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even there are the martyrs' rugged cairns—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The resting-place of kings!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And man outpours his heart to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And "chants his holiest hymn,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But anon his frame is still and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his sparkling eyes are dim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who can tell but the home of death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a happier home to him?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5OH_LOVE_THE_SOLDIERS_DAUGHTER_DEAR14" id="vol5OH_LOVE_THE_SOLDIERS_DAUGHTER_DEAR14"></a>OH, LOVE THE SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER DEAR!<a name="vol5FNanchor_14_14" id="vol5FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fell on Balaklava's plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ere he found a soldier's bier<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He blest his beauteous child again;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_271" id="vol5Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though o'er the Light Brigade like rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">War's deadly lightning swiftly fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On—on the squadron charged amain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst that storm of shot and shell!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A jewel in his heart was she,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose noble form disdain'd the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And, Freedom, fought and died for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even like a knight of old romance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brave Cardigan, disdaining fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard but the bugle sound—advance!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paler droops the flower of France,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brighter glows proud England's rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As charge they on with sabre-glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thunders thickening as they close!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be thy grateful kindness shewn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still her father's name revere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh, 'tis dearer than her own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell his deeds in battle done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how he fearless faced the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And urged the snorting war-horse on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With death above, around, below!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lowly bends at sorrow's shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her father's glorious deeds appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laurels round her brow entwine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_272" id="vol5Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In that full eye, that seems divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her sire's commanding ardour glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blood, that flow'd for thee and thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within his daughter's bosom flows!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A jewel in his heart was she,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose noble form disdain'd the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And, Freedom, fought and died for thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_BATTLE_OF_STIRLING" id="vol5THE_BATTLE_OF_STIRLING"></a>THE BATTLE OF STIRLING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">To Scotland's ancient realm<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Proud Edward's armies came,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To sap our freedom, and o'erwhelm<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Our martial force in shame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It shall not be!" brave Wallace cried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It shall not be!" his chiefs replied;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"By the name our fathers gave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our steel shall drink the crimson stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll all her dearest rights redeem—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our own broadswords shall save her!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">With hopes of triumph flush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The squadrons hurried o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thy bridge, Kildean, and heaving rush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Like wild waves to the shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"They come—they come!" was the gallant cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"They come—they come!" was the loud reply;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"O strength, thou gracious Giver!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Love and Freedom's stainless faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll dare the darkest night of death—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We 'll drive them back for ever!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_273" id="vol5Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">All o'er the waving broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In chivalry and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shone England's radiant spear and plume,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">By Stirling's rocky base:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, stretching far beneath the view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Cressingham! thy banners flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When, like a torrent rushing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God! from right and left the flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Scottish swords like lightning came,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Great Edward's legions crushing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">High praise, ye gallant band,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Who, in the face of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a daring heart and a fearless hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Have cast your chains away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foemen fell on every side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In crimson hues the Forth was dyed—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bedew'd with blood the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cries triumphal shook the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thus shall they do, thus shall they dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wherever Scotsmen gather!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Though years like shadows fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O'er the dial-stone of Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thy pulse, O Freedom! still shall beat<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With the throb of manhood's prime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still shall the valour, love, and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shone on Scotland's early youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From Scotland ne'er dissever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Shamrock, Rose, and Thistle stern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wave around her Wallace cairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And bless the brave for ever!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_274" id="vol5Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5WILLIAM_MILLER" id="vol5WILLIAM_MILLER"></a>WILLIAM MILLER.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5YE_COWE_A" id="vol5YE_COWE_A"></a>YE COWE A'.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'>Air</span>—<i>"Comin' through the rye."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' that fondest heart can feel, or tongue can tell, I said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nae reply my lassie gied—I blamed the waterfa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its deavin' soun' her voice might droun'. "Oh, it cowes a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh, it cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, it cowes a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder how the birds can woo—oh, it cowes a'!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's solemn grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where silence in her dewy bowers hush'd a' sounds but o' love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still frae my earnest looks an' vows she turn'd her head awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae cheerin' word the silence heard. "Oh, this cowes a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Oh, this cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, this cowes a'!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo I 'll try anither way—for this cowes a'!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_275" id="vol5Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to where the moonlight fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a bank o' bloomin' flowers, beside the pear-tree well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, modest moon, did I do wrang to clasp her waist sae sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steal ae kiss o' honey'd bliss? "Oh, ye cowe a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye might hae speer'd a body's leave—oh, ye cowe a'!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'll to the clerk," quo' I, "sweet lass; on Sunday we 'll be cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frae your father's house, next day, ye 'll gang a dear-lo'ed bride."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quo' she, "I 'd need anither week to mak a gown mair braw;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The gown ye hae, we 'll mak it do!" "Oh, ye cowe a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wilfu' folk maun hae their way—oh, ye cowe a'!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_276" id="vol5Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALEXANDER_HUME" id="vol5ALEXANDER_HUME"></a>ALEXANDER HUME.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5MY_AIN_DEAR_NELL" id="vol5MY_AIN_DEAR_NELL"></a>MY AIN DEAR NELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, bonnie Nelly Brown, I will sing a song to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though oceans wide between us row, ye 'll aye be dear to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though mony a year 's gane o'er my head since, down in Linton's dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took my last fond look o' thee, my ain dear Nell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me, Nelly Brown, do you mind our youthfu' days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we ran about the burnie's side, or speel'd the gow'ny braes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I pu'd the crawpea's blossom, an' the bloomin' heather-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To twine them round thy bonnie brow, my ain dear Nell!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_277" id="vol5Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How often, Nelly Brown, hae we wander'd o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grow the brier, the yellow bloom, an' flowery hawthorn-tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sported 'mang the leafy woods, till nicht's lang shadows fell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, we ne'er had thoughts o' partin' then, my ain dear Nell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in winter, Nelly Brown, when the nichts were lang an' drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We would creep down by the ingle side, some fairy tale to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cared nae for the snawy drift, or nippin' frost sae snell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we lived but for each other then, my ain dear Nell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me, Nelly Brown, that your bonnie raven hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is snaw-white now, an' that your brow, sae cloudless ance an' fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks care-worn now, and unco sad; but I heed na what they tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ne'er can think you 're changed to me, my ain dear Nell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ance mair then, Nelly Brown, I hae sung o' love and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though oceans wide between us row, ye 're aye the same to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when I sigh'd my last farewell in Linton's flowery dell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I ne'er can tine my love for thee, my ain dear Nell!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_278" id="vol5Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_PAIRTIN" id="vol5THE_PAIRTIN"></a>THE PAIRTIN'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mary, dearest maid, I leave thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hame, and frien's, and country dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! ne'er let our pairtin' grieve thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happier days may soon be here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See yon bark, sae proudly bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon shall bear me o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the trumpet loudly sounding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calls me far frae love and thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Summer flowers shall cease to blossom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Streams run backward frae the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld in death maun be this bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere it cease to throb for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare-thee-weel! may every blessin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed by Heaven, around thee fa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae last time thy loved form pressin'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think o' me when far awa'.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_279" id="vol5Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_280" id="vol5Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_281" id="vol5Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_MACDONALD_DD" id="vol5JOHN_MACDONALD_DD"></a>JOHN MACDONALD, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_282" id="vol5Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_MISSIONARY_OF_ST_KILDA" id="vol5THE_MISSIONARY_OF_ST_KILDA"></a>THE MISSIONARY OF ST KILDA.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The descriptive portion of a sacred lyric composed by Dr Macdonald +on the occasion of his first visit to St Kilda, often called "<i>The +Hirt</i>" or "<i>Hirta</i>," after the Gaelic. His missionary enterprise was +blessed, we believe, with remarkable success.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see, I see the Hirta, the land of my desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the missionary spirit within me is on fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But needs it all—for, bristling from the bosom of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those giant crags are menacing, but welcome rude to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eye withdraws in horror from yon mountains rude and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flag of green nor tree displays, nor blushes flow'ret fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how shall bark so frail as mine that beetling beach come near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rages betwixt cliff and surf the battle-din of fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems as, like a rocking hull, that Island of the main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were shaken from its basement, and creaking with the strain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the siege of waters nought prevails 'gainst giant Hirt the grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save his face to furrow with some scars, or his brow with mist to dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, needs a welcome to that shore, for well my thought might say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere better than that brow to face that I were leagues away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no, not so! what fears should daunt,—for what welcomes e'er outran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The welcome that I bring with me, my call from God and man?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_283" id="vol5Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nor vain my trust! my helmsman, He who sent me, now is steering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by His power, the wave-worn craft the shore in calm is nearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scarce my foot was on the beach when two hundred echoes spake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their welcome, and a hundred hands flew forth my hand to take.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, believe me, has his best protection by his side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bears the call of God and man, from the reef, the crag, the tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for welcome on the shore, give me the flashing eyes that glow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I told the men of Hirt the news I brought them from their God!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_284" id="vol5Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5DUNCAN_KENNEDY" id="vol5DUNCAN_KENNEDY"></a>DUNCAN KENNEDY.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_285" id="vol5Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_RETURN_OF_PEACE" id="vol5THE_RETURN_OF_PEACE"></a>THE RETURN OF PEACE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a breezy burst of singing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blow we out the flames of rage!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Europe's peace, through Europe ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is, of peace, our lifetime pledge.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Faldar, aldar, aldar, ari,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Faldar, aldar, aldar, e';<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Faldar, aldar, aldar, ari,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Faldar, ari, faldar, e'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every musket to the guard-house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And its lead to furlough send—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the tilling of the meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every gallant bayonet bend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, a lusty fleet is steering<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Homewards, to the shore of peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brave hearts, a host, are nearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the expectant dear's embrace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the kilted Highlander<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As from Egypt's battles come—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Westlander and Norlander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eager for the sight of home.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_286" id="vol5Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven years orphan'd of their fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shelterless and sad no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite a little army gathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shouting welcomes from the shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the echoes are in motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the sheilings ring with glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, of peace, the paths of ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give the news a passage free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The birds the dash of oars was scaring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hush'd their note, but soon they raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their wonted branch repairing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweetest numbers on the sprays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seem the woods to dance a measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nodding as the notes inspire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their branches, as with pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Add their music to the choir.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of the streamlet, every murmur<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweetly swells the song of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting, with each vocal charmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joys that bloom and wars that cease.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_287" id="vol5Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5ALLAN_MDOUGALL" id="vol5ALLAN_MDOUGALL"></a>ALLAN M'DOUGALL.</h2> + +<p>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,<a name="vol5FNanchor_15_15" id="vol5FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_288" id="vol5Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_CARLINE" id="vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_CARLINE"></a>THE SONG OF THE CARLINE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, she 's sad for scolding,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, she 's too mad for holding,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, her arms I 'm cold in,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And but a poor wittol to see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I go to fair, or feast, or waddin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crone's in the sulks, for she 'd fain be gaddin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wink to the girls sets her soul a-maddin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's a shame and sorrow to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I stop at the hostel to buy me a gill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with a good fellow a moment sit still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fist it is clench'd, and is ready to kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the talk of the clachan are we.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's ailing for ever—my welcome is small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I bring for her nonsense no cordial at all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contention and strife, in the but and the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are ready to greet my return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, did he come to us, our bondage to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would cry, Be on Death benedictions for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would jump it so high, and I 'd jig it so clever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Short while would suffice me to mourn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was not her face, or dress, or riches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not a heart pierced through with stitches—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the glamour of more than a hundred witches<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That brought me a bargain like Janet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O when, in the spring I return from the plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fain at the ingle would bask at its low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bauchle is off, and I 'm sure of a blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or a kick, if her foot is within it.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_289" id="vol5Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No thrift she is plying, no cakes she is dressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No babe of her bosom in fondness caressing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be up she, or down she, she 's ever distressing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The core of my heart with her bother.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a groat, for a groat with goodwill I would sell her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bark of the oak is the tan of her leather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bushel of coals would avail but to chill her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a hag can you shew such another?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No tooth in her head, and a squint in her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the dusk of the day, when her choler is high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bairns, nay, the team I 've unhalter'd, they fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave the reception for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, she 's sad for scolding,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, she 's too mad for holding,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O hi, O hu, her arms I 'm cold in,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And but a poor wittol to see!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_290" id="vol5Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5KENNETH_MACKENZIE" id="vol5KENNETH_MACKENZIE"></a>KENNETH MACKENZIE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_KILT" id="vol5THE_SONG_OF_THE_KILT"></a>THE SONG OF THE KILT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My darling is the philabeg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scarlet hosen for the leg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the spotted curtal coat so trig,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the head blue-bonneted.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_291" id="vol5Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wimpled kilt be mine to wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confusion take the breechen gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My limbs be fetterless and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And not like Saxon donnot-led.<a name="vol5FNanchor_16_16" id="vol5FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, well I love the <i>eididh</i><a name="vol5FNanchor_17_17" id="vol5FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it sends me bounding on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or up the brae so merrily,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There's ne'er a darg that wonnet speed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give me the plaid, and on the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll watch my turn, a se'ennight's spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a shiver from the chill<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shall pierce my trusty coverlet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And for the tartan's lively flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In glen or clachan 'tis the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike it pleases lass and dame—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Unmatched its glories ever yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be mine in Highland graith array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With weapon trim the glens to tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rise a stag of foremost head,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Then let him tent my culiver.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when I marshal to the feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deer-skin belt around my waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its fold a dirk embraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Then Roland match shall Oliver.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_292" id="vol5Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JOHN_CAMPBELL" id="vol5JOHN_CAMPBELL"></a>JOHN CAMPBELL.</h2> + +<p>John Campbell (Ian Bàn), overseer on the estate of Shirvain, Argyleshire, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_293" id="vol5Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5THE_STORM_BLAST" id="vol5THE_STORM_BLAST"></a>THE STORM BLAST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, say not 'tis the March wind! 'tis a fiercer blast that drives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds along the heavens, 'tis a feller sweep that rives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image of the sun from man; a scowling tempest hurls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our world into a chaos, and still it whirls and whirls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the Boreal blast of sin, else all were meek and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Creation would be singing still its old primeval psalm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe for the leaf of human life! it flutters in the sere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what avails its dance in air, with dust and down-come near?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That airy dance, what signifies the madness that inspires?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king, the clown, alike is borne along, alike expires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come let us try another weird—the tempest let us chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bridle for the passions ho! for giant pride a rein!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus quelleth grace the master-craft that was the cause of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruin that befell us in the whirlwind of the Fall.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_294" id="vol5Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol5JAMES_MGREGOR_DD" id="vol5JAMES_MGREGOR_DD"></a>JAMES M'GREGOR, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_295" id="vol5Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol5LIGHT_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS18" id="vol5LIGHT_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS18"></a>LIGHT IN THE HIGHLANDS.<a name="vol5FNanchor_18_18" id="vol5FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol5Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of learning long a scantling was the portion of the Gael,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untaught by calculation's art their loss or gain to unveil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though well was seen the Saxon's power their interest to betray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, to knowledge thanks, the Gael are letter-wise as they.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well fare the benefactors who have raised us from the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as were raised from brutal dust our countrymen around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now ignorance shall furl her wing, and while our hopes aspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all her native darkness she must in despair retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each nook will have its scholar craft, and high in learning's scale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will mount the inspirations of the language of the Gael.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! now the trusty Highlander aloft shall raise his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As large as is his native worth, his wealthy arts shall spread;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol5Page_296" id="vol5Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Inventions crowd to save him from the poor man's bitter doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well-taught skill, to grace with comfort's ray his humblest home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more o'er weakness shall exult the mighty and the proud—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more in nakedness shall 'plain his lot the wretch aloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, sure are coming nigh our hills the auspices foretold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he shall fail to vaunt his power who chain'd our sires of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In iron bands who held them fast, but now he droops with fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delusion's age is past, and strife avows the smile, the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sympathy or fondness ask,—and the sad world is fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To welcome its return to love and innocence again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center">END OF VOL. V.</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_1_1" id="vol5Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The present Memoir has been prepared at our request by the +veteran William Jerdan, late of the <i>Literary Gazette</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_2_2" id="vol5Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Composed on board the steamship Niagara, on her voyage to +New York, in August 1849.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_3_3" id="vol5Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_4_4" id="vol5Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> 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.—<i>Soldier's +Letter from the Crimea.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_5_5" id="vol5Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "Before she came there was cussin' and swearin', but after +that it was as holy as a church."—<i>Ibid.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_6_6" id="vol5Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Here first published.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_7_7" id="vol5Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This song was originally Published in the <i>Scots' Magazine</i> +for October 1806. In the "Book of Scottish Song," it has been attributed +to Allan Ramsay.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_8_8" id="vol5Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> This song has been erroneously assigned to Burns.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_9_9" id="vol5Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> This lyric and the following are printed from the author's +MSS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_10_10" id="vol5Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Here printed for the first time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_11_11" id="vol5Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_12_12" id="vol5Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> To Mr Disseret of Edinburgh we are indebted for the +particulars of Mr Maclagan's personal history.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_13_13" id="vol5Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> See vol. ii., p. <a href="#vol2Page_120">120</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_14_14" id="vol5Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> This song, and the following, have been contributed by Mr +Sinclair to the present work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_15_15" id="vol5Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> See Minstrel, Vol. iv. p. <a href="#vol4Page_279">279</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_16_16" id="vol5Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Hen-pecked (Sc.), from <i>donned</i>, silly woman.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_17_17" id="vol5Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Highland garb.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol5Footnote_18_18" id="vol5Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol5FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Composed on hearing of the late Principal Baird's +successful expedition to the Highlands, for the purpose of establishing +the General Assembly's Schools.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_vi_title.jpg" width="600" height="998" alt="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." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/vol_vi_frontis.jpg" width="600" height="957" alt="[Handwritten: Ever yours truly, + +Chas. Mackay." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. VI.</p> + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH:<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI.</p> + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>TO<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>CHARLES BAILLIE, ESQ.,</b></span><br /> +<br /> +SHERIFF OF STIRLINGSHIRE,<br /> +<br /> +CONVENER OF THE ACTING COMMITTEE FOR REARING<br /> +<br /> +A NATIONAL MONUMENT<br /> +<br /> +TO THE<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: large;">ILLUSTRIOUS DEFENDER OF SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: large;">THIS SIXTH VOLUME</span><br /> +<br /> +OF<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Modern Scottish Minstrel</b></span><br /> +<br /> +IS DEDICATED,<br /> +<br /> +WITH SENTIMENTS OF THE HIGHEST RESPECT AND ESTEEM,<br /> +<br /> +BY<br /> +<br /> +HIS VERY OBEDIENT FAITHFUL SERVANT,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: x-large;">CHARLES ROGERS.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_v" id="vol6Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6CONTENTS" id="vol6CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_xi">xi</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6OBSERVATIONS_ON_SCOTTISH_SONG">OBSERVATIONS ON SCOTTISH SONG. BY HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_xx">xx</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6CHARLES_MACKAY_LLD5">CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_1">1</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6LOVE_AWEARY_OF_THE_WORLD">Love aweary of the world,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_8">8</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LOVERS_SECOND_THOUGHTS_ON_WORLD_WEARINESS">The lover's second thoughts on world weariness,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_9">9</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_CANDID_WOOING">A candid wooing,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_11">11</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6PROCRASTINATIONS">Procrastinations,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_12">12</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6REMEMBRANCES_OF_NATURE">Remembrances of nature,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_13">13</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BELIEVE_IF_YOU_CAN">Believe, if you can,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_15">15</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_THE_HAPPY_TIME_DEPARTED">Oh, the happy time departed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6COME_BACK_COME_BACK">Come back! come back!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TEARS">Tears,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_18">18</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CHEER_BOYS_CHEER">Cheer, boys, cheer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_20">20</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MOURN_FOR_THE_MIGHTY_DEAD">Mourn for the mighty dead,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_21">21</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_PLAIN_MANS_PHILOSOPHY">A plain man's philosophy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_22">22</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SECRETS_OF_THE_HAWTHORN">The secrets of the hawthorn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_24">24</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_CRY_FROM_THE_DEEP_WATERS">A cry from the deep waters,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_25">25</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_RETURN_HOME">The return home,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_26">26</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_MEN_OF_THE_NORTH">The men of the North,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_28">28</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LOVERS_DREAM_OF_THE_WIND">The lover's dream of the wind,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_29">29</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ARCHIBALD_CRAWFORD">ARCHIBALD CRAWFORD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_31">31</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6BONNIE_MARY_HAY">Bonnie Mary Hay,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SCOTLAND_I_HAVE_NO_HOME_BUT_THEE">Scotland, I have no home but thee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_DONALD">GEORGE DONALD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_35">35</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SPRING_TIME_O_LIFE">The spring time o' life,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_36">36</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SCARLET_ROSE-BUSH">The scarlet rose-bush,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_37">37</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HENRY_GLASSFORD_BELL">HENRY GLASSFORD BELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_39">39</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_LIFE_IS_ONE_LONG_THOUGHT_OF_THEE">My life is one long thought of thee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_40">40</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6WHY_IS_MY_SPIRIT_SAD">Why is my spirit sad?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_41">41</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6GEORDIE_YOUNG">Geordie Young,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_42">42</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_FAIRY_ELLEN">My fairy Ellen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_44">44</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_BACHELORS_COMPLAINT">A bachelor's complaint,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_45">45</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_BENNET">WILLIAM BENNET,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_47">47</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6BLEST_BE_THE_HOUR_OF_NIGHT">Blest be the hour of night,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_48">48</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_ROSE_OF_BEAUTY">The rose of beauty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_49">49</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6I_LL_THINK_ON_THEE_LOVE">I 'll think on thee, love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_50">50</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_A_MOTHERS_VOICE">There 's music in a mother's voice,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_51">51</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_BRIG_OF_ALLAN">The brig of Allan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_52">52</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_OUTRAM">GEORGE OUTRAM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_54">54</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6CHARGE_ON_A_BOND_OF_ANNUITY7">Charge on a bond of annuity,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_55">55</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HENRY_INGLIS">HENRY INGLIS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6WEEP_AWAY">Weep away,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MANSON">JAMES MANSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OCEAN">Ocean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HUNTERS_DAUGHTER">The hunter's daughter,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AN_INVITATION">An invitation,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CUPID_AND_THE_ROSE-BUD">Cupid and the rose-bud,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_64">64</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ROBIN_GOODHEARTS_CAROL">Robin Goodheart's carol,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_65">65</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_HEDDERWICK">JAMES HEDDERWICK,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_67">67</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_BARK_AT_SEA">My bark at sea,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_68">68</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SORROW_AND_SONG">Sorrow and song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_69">69</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LAND_FOR_ME">The land for me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_70">70</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EMIGRANTS">The emigrants,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_72">72</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FIRST_GRIEF">First grief,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_73">73</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LINNET">The linnet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_76">76</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_BROCKIE">WILLIAM BROCKIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6YE_LL_NEVER_GANG_BACK_TO_YER_MITHER_NAE_MAIR">Ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_MLACHLAN">ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LANG_WINTER_EEN">The lang winter e'en,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_YOUNG">THOMAS YOUNG,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6ANTOINETTE_OR_THE_FALLS">Antoinette; or, The Falls,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_WILSON">ROBERT WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6AWAY_AWAY_MY_GALLANT_BARK">Away, away, my gallant bark,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LOVE">Love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_85">85</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6EDWARD_POLIN">EDWARD POLIN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_87">87</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6A_GOOD_OLD_SONG">A good old song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_88">88</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_BUCHANAN">ALEXANDER BUCHANAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6I_WANDERD_ALANE">I wander'd alane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6KATIE_BLAIR8">Katie Blair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_91">91</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6DAVID_TAYLOR">DAVID TAYLOR,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AIN_GUDEMAN">My ain gudeman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_CATHCART">ROBERT CATHCART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MARY">Mary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_JAMIE">WILLIAM JAMIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6AULD_SCOTIAS_SANGS">Auld Scotia's sangs,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_CRAWFORD">JOHN CRAWFORD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_98">98</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AULD_WIFIE_JEAN">My auld wifie Jean,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_102">102</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LAND_O_THE_BONNET_AND_PLAID">The land o' the bonnet and plaid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_103">103</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SING_ON_FAIRY_DEVON9">Sing on, fairy Devon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_104">104</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ANN_O_CORNYLEE">Ann o' Cornylee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_105">105</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MARY_DEAR10">My Mary dear,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_106">106</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WAES_O_EILD">The waes o' eild,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_107">107</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_STUART_BLACKIE11">JOHN STUART BLACKIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_109">109</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6SONG_OF_BEN_CRUACHAN">Song of Ben Cruachan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_115">115</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_BRAES_OF_MAR">The braes of Mar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_117">117</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_LOVES">My loves,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_118">118</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LIKING_AND_LOVING">Liking and loving,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_120">120</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_STIRLING_MP">WILLIAM STIRLING, M.P.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_121">121</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6RUTH">Ruth,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_122">122</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6SHALLUM">Shallum,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_126">126</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_C_LATTO">THOMAS C. LATTO,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_127">127</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_KISS_AHINT_THE_DOOR">The kiss ahint the door,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_128">128</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WIDOWS_AE_BIT_LASSIE">The widow's ae bit lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_129">129</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_YELLOW-HAIRED_LADDIE">The yellow hair'd laddie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_130">130</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TELL_ME_DEAR">Tell me, dear,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_131">131</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_CADENHEAD">WILLIAM CADENHEAD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_133">133</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6DO_YOU_KNOW_WHAT_THE_BIRDS_ARE_SINGING">Do you know what the birds are singing,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_134">134</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_OLD_LOVE">An hour with an old love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_135">135</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALLAN_GIBSON">ALLAN GIBSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_137">137</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_LANE_AULD_MAN">The lane auld man,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_138">138</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WANDERERS_RETURN">The wanderer's return,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_139">139</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6THOMAS_ELLIOTT">THOMAS ELLIOTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_141">141</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6UP_WITH_THE_DAWN">Up with the dawn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_142">142</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6CLYDE_BOAT_SONG">Clyde boat song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_143">143</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6DIMPLES_AND_A">Dimples and a',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_144">144</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BUBBLES_ON_THE_BLAST">Bubbles on the blast,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_145">145</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SERENADE">A serenade,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_146">146</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SONG_OF_LITTLE_THINGS">A song of little things,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_147">147</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_AIN_MOUNTAIN_LAND">My ain mountain land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_148">148</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6WHEN_I_COME_HAME_AT_EEN">When I come hame at e'en,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_149">149</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_LOGAN">WILLIAM LOGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6JEANIE_GOW">Jeanie Gow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_LITTLE">JAMES LITTLE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_153">153</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_NATIVE_HILLS_AGAIN">Our native hills again,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_154">154</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6HERE_S_A_HEALTH_TO_SCOTIAS_SHORE">Here 's a health to Scotia's shore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_155">155</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_DAYS_WHEN_WE_WERE_YOUNG">The days when we were young,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_156">156</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LIZZIE_FREW">Lizzy Frew,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_158">158</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6COLIN_RAE_BROWN">COLIN RAE BROWN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_159">159</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6CHARLIE_S_COMIN">Charlie 's comin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_160">160</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WIDOWS_DAUGHTER">The widow's daughter,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_161">161</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_LEIGHTON">ROBERT LEIGHTON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MUCKLE_MEAL_POCK">My muckle meal-pock,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_HENDERSON">JAMES HENDERSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WANDERERS_DEATHBED">The wanderer's deathbed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SONG_OF_TIME">The song of Time,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_167">167</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS">The Highland hills,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_168">168</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND">My native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_169">169</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MACLARDY">JAMES MACLARDY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_171">171</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_SUNNY_DAYS_ARE_COME_MY_LOVE">The sunny days are come, my love,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_172">172</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_MY_LOVE_WAS_FAIR">Oh, my love was fair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_173">173</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ANDREW_JAMES_SYMINGTON">ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_176">176</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6DAY_DREAM">Day dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_177">177</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FAIR_AS_A_STAR_OF_LIGHT">Fair as a star of light,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_179">179</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6NATURE_MUSICAL">Nature musical,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_180">180</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ISABELLA_CRAIG">ISABELLA CRAIG,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_HELEN">Our Helen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6GOING_OUT_AND_COMING_IN">Going out and coming in,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_184">184</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_MARY_AN_ME">My Mary an' me,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_185">185</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6A_SONG_OF_SUMMER">A song of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_186">186</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ROBERT_DUTHIE">ROBERT DUTHIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6SONG_OF_THE_OLD_ROVER">Song of the old rover,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6BOATMANS_SONG">Boatman's song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_189">189</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6LISETTE">Lisette,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_190">190</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6ALEXANDER_STEPHEN_WILSON">ALEXANDER STEPHEN WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_192">192</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THINGS_MUST_MEND">Things must mend,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_193">193</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_WEE_BLINK_THAT_SHINES_IN_A_TEAR">The wee blink that shines in a tear,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_194">194</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6FLOWERS_OF_MY_OWN_LOVED_CLIME">Flowers of my own loved clime,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_195">195</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_MACFARLAN">JAMES MACFARLAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_196">196</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6ISABELLE">Isabelle,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_197">197</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6HOUSEHOLD_GODS">Household gods,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_198">198</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6POOR_COMPANIONS">Poor companions,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_199">199</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6WILLIAM_B_C_RIDDELL">WILLIAM B. C. RIDDELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_201">201</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6LAMENT_OF_WALLACE13">Lament of Wallace,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_202">202</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6OH_WHAT_IS_IN_THIS_FLAUNTING_TOWN14">Oh! what is in this flaunting town,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_203">203</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6MARGARET_CRAWFORD">MARGARET CRAWFORD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_205">205</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND_2">My native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_206">206</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EMIGRANTS_FAREWELL">The emigrant's farewell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_STREAM_OF_LIFE">The stream of life,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6DAY-DREAMS_OF_OTHER_YEARS">Day-dreams of other years,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_209">209</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6AFFECTIONS_FAITH">Affection's faith,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_211">211</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_DONALD_JUN">GEORGE DONALD, JUN.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6OUR_AIN_GREEN_SHAW">Our ain green shaw,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6ELIZA">Eliza,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_213">213</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_JEFFREY">JOHN JEFFREY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_215">215</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6WAR-CRY_OF_THE_ROMAN_INSURRECTIONISTS">War-cry of the Roman insurrectionists,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_216">216</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6PATRICK_SCOTT">PATRICK SCOTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_EXILE">The exile,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_BATHURST_DICKSON">JOHN BATHURST DICKSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_220">220</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AMERICAN_FLAG">The American flag,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_221">221</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6EVAN_MCOLL">EVAN M'COLL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_222">222</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HEATHER">The hills of the heather,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_223">223</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JAMES_D_BURNS">JAMES D. BURNS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6RISE_LITTLE_STAR">Rise, little star,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THOUGH_LONG_THE_WANDERER_MAY_DEPART">Though long the wanderer may depart,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_225">225</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6GEORGE_HENDERSON">GEORGE HENDERSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_227">227</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6I_CANNA_LEAVE_MY_NATIVE_LAND">I canna leave my native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_228">228</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6HORATIUS_BONAR_DD">HORATIUS BONAR, D.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_229">229</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_MEETING_PLACE">The meeting-place,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_230">230</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6TRUST_NOT_THESE_SEAS_AGAIN">Trust not these seas again,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_233">233</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#vol6JOHN_HALLIDAY">JOHN HALLIDAY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AULD_KIRK_BELL">The auld kirk bell,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a></span></li> + <li><a href="#vol6THE_AULD_AIK-TREE">The auld aik-tree,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_236">236</a></span></li> + </ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC"><li><a href="#vol6JAMES_DODDS">JAMES DODDS,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_238">238</a></span> + <ul class="TOCSub"> + <li><a href="#vol6TRIAL_AND_DEATH_OF_ROBERT_BAILLIE_OF_JERVIESWOODE">Trial and death of Robert Baillie of Jervieswoode,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_239">239</a></span></li> + </ul></li></ul> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + +<ul class='TOC'><li><a href="#vol6DUNCAN_MACFARLAN">DUNCAN MACFARLAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_249">249</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol6THE_BEAUTY_OF_THE_SHIELING">The beauty of the shieling,</a> <span class='tocright'> <a href="#vol6Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6JOHN_MUNRO">JOHN MUNRO,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_251">251</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#vol6THE_HIGHLAND_WELCOME">The Highland welcome,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_252">252</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6JOHN_MACDONALD_JUN">JOHN MACDONALD, JUN.</a>, <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li><a href="#vol6MARY_THE_FAIR_OF_GLENSMOLE">Mary, the fair of Glensmole,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6EVAN_MCOLL16">EVAN M'COLL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_256">256</a></span> +<ul class='TOCSub'><li><a href="#vol6THE_CHILD_OF_PROMISE">The child of promise,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_256">256</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + +<ul class='TOC'><li> +<a href="#vol6INDEX">INDEX,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#vol6Page_257">257</a></span></li></ul> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xi" id="vol6Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6INTRODUCTION" id="vol6INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The spirit of the national lyre seems to have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xii" id="vol6Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> aroused during the +war of independence,<a name="vol6FNanchor_1_1" id="vol6FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> 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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Quhen Alysandyr oure kyng wes dede,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Scotland led in luve and le,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away wes sons of ale and brede,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of wyne and wax, of gamyn and gle:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oure gold wes changyd into lede.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cryst, borne in-to virgynyté<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Succour Scotland and remede,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That stad is in perplexyté."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The battle of Bannockburn was an event peculiarly<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xiii" id="vol6Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> adapted for the +strains of the native lyre. The following Bardic numbers commemorating +the victory have been preserved by Fabyan, the English chronicler:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Maydens of Englande,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sore may ye morne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For your lemmans, ye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haue lost at Bannockysburne.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With heue-a-lowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What weneth the king of England,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon to have won Scotland?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wyth rumbylowe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xiv" id="vol6Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>On the union of the Crowns a new era arose in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xv" id="vol6Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xvi" id="vol6Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xvii" id="vol6Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span> 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.<a name="vol6FNanchor_2_2" id="vol6FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xviii" id="vol6Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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."<a name="vol6FNanchor_3_3" id="vol6FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> The more esteemed modern collections with music are +"The Scottish Minstrel," edited by R. A. Smith<a name="vol6FNanchor_4_4" id="vol6FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> (6 vols. 8vo); "The +Songs of Scotland, adapted to their appropriate<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xix" id="vol6Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xx" id="vol6Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6OBSERVATIONS_ON_SCOTTISH_SONG" id="vol6OBSERVATIONS_ON_SCOTTISH_SONG"></a>OBSERVATIONS ON SCOTTISH SONG:<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +REMARKS ON THE GENIUS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OF</span><br /> +<br /> +LADY NAIRN, THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD, AND ROBERT TANNAHILL.<br /> +<br /> +BY HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL.</h2> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxi" id="vol6Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis not alone the scenes of glen and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haunts and homes beside the murmuring rill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all the varied beauties of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so can Scotland to our hearts endear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merry both and melancholy strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their power assert, and o'er the spirit reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indebted more to nature than to art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They reach the ear to fascinate the heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waken hope that, animating, cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bathe our being in the flow of tears."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxii" id="vol6Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Within the modern period, the harp of Caledonia gives forth similar +utterances in the hands of Lady Nairn, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxiii" id="vol6Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxiv" id="vol6Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxv" id="vol6Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>kye cam' hame</i> at "the farmer's ingle," and in the <i>bien</i> +cottage of the <i>but</i> and <i>ben</i>, where at eventide the rustics delighted +to meet. As experience gave him increased command over the hill harp, +his ambition to produce strains<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxvi" id="vol6Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bonnie Charlie 's now awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Safely ower the friendly main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mony a heart will break in twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should he ne'er come back again;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far over yon hills of the heather sae green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And down by the corrie that sings to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie young Flora sat sighing alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Or when the lady was producing "The land o' the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxvii" id="vol6Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Bird of the wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blithesome and cumberless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blest is thy dwelling-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! to abide in the desert with thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxviii" id="vol6Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span> 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 Tanna<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxix" id="vol6Page_xxix">[Pg xxix]</a></span>hill 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.</p> + +<p>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, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxx" id="vol6Page_xxx">[Pg xxx]</a></span>gether 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxxi" id="vol6Page_xxxi">[Pg xxxi]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_xxxii" id="vol6Page_xxxii">[Pg xxxii]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 <i>thinks</i>, the +people <i>feel</i>; 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_1" id="vol6Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6CHARLES_MACKAY_LLD5" id="vol6CHARLES_MACKAY_LLD5"></a>CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.<a name="vol6FNanchor_5_5" id="vol6FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_2" id="vol6Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Morning Chronicle</i>. 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_3" id="vol6Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> 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 <i>Glasgow Argus</i>, a journal devoted to +the advocacy of advanced liberal opinions.</p> + +<p>This paper he conducted for three years, and returned to London, where +he received the appointment of editor of the <i>Illustrated London News</i>, +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 <i>feared</i>, some simply +tolerated, some detested, and some merit our contempt, but the +<i>Illustrated London News</i> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_4" id="vol6Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> on the Continent, a +wider influence than any paper published in England."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_5" id="vol6Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>When the London <i>Daily News</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_6" id="vol6Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_7" id="vol6Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> 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?<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_8" id="vol6Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LOVE_AWEARY_OF_THE_WORLD" id="vol6LOVE_AWEARY_OF_THE_WORLD"></a>LOVE AWEARY OF THE WORLD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! my love is very lovely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her mind all beauties dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, robed in living splendour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grace and modesty attend her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I love her more than well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'm weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To despair my soul is hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is kind to all about her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her heart is pity's throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has smiles for all men's gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has tears for every sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is hard to me alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'm weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a love-lit summit hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When my words are words of wisdom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All her spirit I can move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At my wit her eyes will glisten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she flies and will not listen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I dare to speak of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I 'm weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By a storm of passions whirl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am weary of the world!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_9" id="vol6Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">True, that there are others fairer—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fairer?—No, that cannot be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet some maids of equal beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High in soul and firm in duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May have kinder hearts than she.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, by heart, so weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To and fro by passion whirl'd?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why so weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why so weary of the world?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were my love but passing fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To another I might turn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'm doom'd to love unduly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One who will not answer truly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And who freezes when I burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'm weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To despair my soul is hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LOVERS_SECOND_THOUGHTS_ON_WORLD_WEARINESS" id="vol6THE_LOVERS_SECOND_THOUGHTS_ON_WORLD_WEARINESS"></a>THE LOVER'S SECOND THOUGHTS ON WORLD WEARINESS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heart! take courage! 'tis not worthy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a woman's scorn to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If her cold indifference wound thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are remedies around thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For such malady as thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thy love-lit summits hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, weary of the world!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_10" id="vol6Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou must be loved by woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seek again—the world is wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is full of loving creatures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair in form, and mind, and features—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Choose among them for thy bride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To and fro by passion whirl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if Love should lose thy favour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Try the paths of honest fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb Parnassus' summit hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carve thy way by deeds of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Write on History's page thy name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the depth of sorrow hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if these shall fail to move thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be the phantoms unpursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Try a charm that will not fail thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When old age and grief assail thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Try the charm of doing good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weak and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the storms of passion whirl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love is fleeting and uncertain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And can bate where it adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chase of glory wears the spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame not always follows merit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Goodness is its own reward.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_11" id="vol6Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thine happy summit hurl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be no longer weary, weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weary, weary of the world!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_CANDID_WOOING" id="vol6A_CANDID_WOOING"></a>A CANDID WOOING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot give thee all my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lady, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My faith and country claim a part,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet I 'll pledge thee word of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the rest is truly thine;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The raving passion of a boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm though it be, will quickly cloy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confide thou rather in the man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who vows to love thee all he can,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Affection, founded on respect,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lady, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never dwindle to neglect,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, while thy gentle virtues live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the love that I will give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torrent leaves its channel dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brook runs on incessantly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm of passion lasts a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But deep, true love endures alway,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_12" id="vol6Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Accept then a divided heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lady, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Faith</i>, <i>Friendship</i>, <i>Honour</i>, each have part,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While at one altar we adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Faith</i> shall but make us love the more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>Friendship</i>, true to all beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ne'er be fickle to a bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>Honour</i>, based on manly truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall love in age as well as youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My sweet lady.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6PROCRASTINATIONS" id="vol6PROCRASTINATIONS"></a>PROCRASTINATIONS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Fortune with a smiling face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strew roses on our way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we stoop to pick them up?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day, my love, to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But should she frown with face of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And talk of coming sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we grieve—if grieve we must?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow, love, to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If those who 've wrong'd us own their faults<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kindly pity pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we listen and forgive?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day, my love, to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if stern Justice urge rebuke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warmth from memory borrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we chide—if chide we dare?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow, love, to-morrow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_13" id="vol6Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If those to whom we owe a debt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are harm'd unless we pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we struggle to be just?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day, my love, to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if our debtor fail our hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And plead his ruin thorough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we weigh his breach of faith?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow, love, to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Love, estranged, should once again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His genial smile display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we kiss his proffer'd lips?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day, my love, to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, if he would indulge regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or dwell with bygone sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall we weep—if weep we must?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow, love, to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For virtuous acts and harmless joys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The minutes will not stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've always time to welcome them<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day, my love, to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But care, resentment, angry words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And unavailing sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come far too soon, if they appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow, love, to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6REMEMBRANCES_OF_NATURE" id="vol6REMEMBRANCES_OF_NATURE"></a>REMEMBRANCES OF NATURE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember the time, thou roaring sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy voice was the voice of Infinity—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A joy, and a dread, and a mystery.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_14" id="vol6Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember the time, ye young May flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your odours and hues in the fields and bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell on my soul as on grass the showers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember the time, thou blustering wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy voice in the woods, to my youthful mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd the sigh of the earth for human kind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember the time, ye suns and stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ye raised my soul from its mortal bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bore it through heaven on your golden cars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And has it then vanish'd, that happy time?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the winds, and the seas, and the stars sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deaf to thy soul in its manly prime?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, no! ah, no! amid sorrow and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the world and its facts oppress my brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the world of spirit I rove—I reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I feel a deep and a pure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the luxuries of sound and sight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the opening day, in the closing night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The voices of youth go with me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the field and the wood, o'er the plain and the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the roar of the sea, in the laugh of the rill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every flower is a lover of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every star is a friend divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me they blossom, for me they shine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_15" id="vol6Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To give me joy the oceans roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They breathe their secrets to my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me they sing, with me condole.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man cannot harm me if he would,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have such friends for my every mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the overflowing solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fate cannot touch me: nothing can stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To put disunion or hate of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt Nature and her worshipper.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing to me, flowers! preach to me, skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye landscapes, glitter in mine eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisper, ye deeps, your mysteries!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sigh to me, wind! ye forests, nod!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak to me ever, thou flowery sod!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are mine—all mine—in the peace of God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6BELIEVE_IF_YOU_CAN" id="vol6BELIEVE_IF_YOU_CAN"></a>BELIEVE IF YOU CAN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by the Author.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hope cannot cheat us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or Fancy betray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempests ne'er scatter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blossoms of May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild winds are constant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By method and plan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! believe me, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Believe if you can!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_16" id="vol6Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Love, who shews us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His midsummer light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreads the same halo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Winter's dark night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Fame never dazzles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lure and trepan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! believe me, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Believe if you can!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friends of the sunshine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Endure in the storm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never they promise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fail to perform.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the night ever ends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the morning began;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! believe me, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Believe if you can!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Words softly spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No guile ever bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peaches ne'er harbour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A worm at the core;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ground never slipp'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under high-reaching man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! believe me, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Believe if you can!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seas undeceitful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calm smiling at morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wreck not ere midnight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sailor forlorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gold makes a bridge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every evil to span;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! believe me, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Believe if you can.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_17" id="vol6Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OH_THE_HAPPY_TIME_DEPARTED" id="vol6OH_THE_HAPPY_TIME_DEPARTED"></a>OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED!</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Air by Sir H. R. Bishop.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the happy time departed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its smile the world was fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We believed in all men's goodness;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joy and hope were gems to wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angel visitants were with us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was music in the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the happy time departed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Change came o'er it all too soon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a cold and drear November<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Died the leafy wealth of June;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter kill'd our summer roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Discord marr'd a heavenly tune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let them pass—the days departed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What befell may ne'er befall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should we with vain lamenting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seek a shadow to recall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great the sorrows we have suffer'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope is greater than them all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6COME_BACK_COME_BACK" id="vol6COME_BACK_COME_BACK"></a>COME BACK! COME BACK!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come back! come back! thou youthful Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When joy and innocence were ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When life was in its vernal prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And redolent of sweets and flowers.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_18" id="vol6Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come back—and let us roam once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Free-hearted, through life's pleasant ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gather garlands as of yore—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back—come back—ye happy days!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come back! come back!—'twas pleasant then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cherish faith in love and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nothing in dispraise of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had sour'd the temper of our youth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come back—and let us still believe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gorgeous dream romance displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor trust the tale that men deceive—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back—come back—ye happy days!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come back!—oh, freshness of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When every face seem'd fair and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sunward every eye was cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the shadows fell behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come back—'twill come; true hearts can turn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their own Decembers into Mays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret be it ours to learn—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back—come back—ye happy days!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6TEARS" id="vol6TEARS"></a>TEARS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are welcome to my heart—thawing, thawing, like the snow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_19" id="vol6Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snowdrops spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_20" id="vol6Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6CHEER_BOYS_CHEER" id="vol6CHEER_BOYS_CHEER"></a>CHEER, BOYS! CHEER!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheer, boys! cheer! no more of idle sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope points before, and shews the bright to-morrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us forget the darkness of to-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So farewell, England! much as we may love thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll dry the tears that we have shed before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So farewell, England! farewell evermore!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Cheer, boys! cheer! the willing strong right hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's work for honest labour,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheer, boys! cheer! the steady breeze is blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world shall follow in the track we 're going,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The star of empire glitters in the west.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here we had toil and little to reward it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But there shall plenty smile upon our pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ours shall be the mountain and the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And boundless prairies, ripe with golden grain.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Cheer, boys! cheer! united heart and hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's wealth for honest labour,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_21" id="vol6Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MOURN_FOR_THE_MIGHTY_DEAD" id="vol6MOURN_FOR_THE_MIGHTY_DEAD"></a>MOURN FOR THE MIGHTY DEAD.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mourn for the mighty dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourn for the spirit fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourn for the lofty head—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Low in the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears such as nations weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallow the hero's sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm be his rest, and deep—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arthur the brave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nobly his work was done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">England's most glorious son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True-hearted Wellington,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shield of our laws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever in peril's night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven send such arm of might—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guardian of truth and right—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raised in their cause!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dried be the tears that fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love bears the warrior's pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame shall his deeds recall—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Britain's right hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright shall his memory be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star of supremacy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banner of victory!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride of our land.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_22" id="vol6Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_PLAIN_MANS_PHILOSOPHY" id="vol6A_PLAIN_MANS_PHILOSOPHY"></a>A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by the Author.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I 've a guinea I can spend,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've a wife, and I 've a friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've a cottage of my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the ivy overgrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I can sit at my door<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By my shady sycamore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So come and drain a glass<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In my arbour as you pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John Brown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I love the song of birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the children's early words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I hate a false pretence,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the want of common sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I love the meadow flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the brier in the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I love an open face without guile, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I hate a selfish knave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a proud, contented slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a lout who 'd rather borrow than he 'd toil, John Brown.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_23" id="vol6Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I love a simple song<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That awakes emotions strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the word of hope that raises him who faints, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I hate the constant whine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the foolish who repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But ever when I hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If I seek my garden gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And survey the world around me, and above, John Brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hatred flies my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I sigh for human kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">So, if you like my ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the comfort of my days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I never scorn my health,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor sell my soul for wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've parted with my pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I take the sunny side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I 've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I keep a conscience clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 've a hundred pounds a-year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_24" id="vol6Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_SECRETS_OF_THE_HAWTHORN" id="vol6THE_SECRETS_OF_THE_HAWTHORN"></a>THE SECRETS OF THE HAWTHORN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by the Author.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No one knows what silent secrets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quiver from thy tender leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one knows what thoughts between us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pass in dewy moonlight eves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roving memories and fancies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Travellers upon Thought's deep sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunt the gay time of our May-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O thou snow-white hawthorn-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovely was she, bright as sunlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure and kind, and good and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she laugh'd the ringing music<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rippled through the summer air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If you love me—shake the blossoms!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus I said, too bold and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down they came in showers of beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou beloved hawthorn-tree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sitting on the grass, the maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vow'd the vow to love me well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vow'd the vow; and oh! how truly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No one but myself can tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widely spreads the smiling woodland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Elm and beech are fair to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy charms they cannot equal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O thou happy hawthorn-tree!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_25" id="vol6Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_CRY_FROM_THE_DEEP_WATERS" id="vol6A_CRY_FROM_THE_DEEP_WATERS"></a>A CRY FROM THE DEEP WATERS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the deep and troubled waters<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Comes the cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild are the waves around me—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dark the sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no hand to pluck me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the sad death I die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To one small plank, that fails me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Clinging low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am dash'd by angry billows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To and fro;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear death-anthems ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all the winds that blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cry of suffering gushes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From my lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I behold the distant<br /></span> +<span class="i4">White-sail'd ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the white waters gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the horizon dips.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They pass; they are too lofty<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot see the spaces<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where I float.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last hope dies within me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the gasping in my throat.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_26" id="vol6Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through dim cloud-vistas looking,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new moon's crescent sailing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pallidly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one star coldly shining<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon my misery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are no sounds in nature<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But my moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shriek of the wild petrel<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roar of waves exulting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make my flesh their own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Billow with billow rages,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tempest trod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strength fails me; coldness gathers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On this clod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the deep and troubled waters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cry to <i>Thee</i>, my God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_RETURN_HOME" id="vol6THE_RETURN_HOME"></a>THE RETURN HOME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our keel flies as fast as the shadow of clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land is in sight, on the verge of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ripple of waters flows pleasantly by,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And faintly stealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Booming, pealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chime from the city the echoing bells;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And louder, clearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Softer, nearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ringing sweet welcome the melody swells;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_27" id="vol6Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's home! and it 's home! all our sorrows are past—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are home in the land of our fathers at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How oft with a pleasure akin to a pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fancy we roam'd through thy pathways again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the mead, through the lane, through the grove, through the corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard the lark singing its hymn to the morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And 'mid the wild wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Dear to childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather'd the berries that grew by the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But all our gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Died in sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fading like dreams in the dawning of day;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we 're home! we are home! all our sorrows are past—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are home in the land of our fathers at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We loved thee before, but we 'll cherish thee now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a deeper emotion than words can avow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever in absence our feet might delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had never a joy like the joy of to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And home returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fondly yearning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faces of welcome seem crowding the shore—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">England! England!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Beautiful England!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace be around thee, and joy evermore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it 's home! and it 's home! all our sorrows are past—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are home in the land of our fathers at last.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_28" id="vol6Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_MEN_OF_THE_NORTH" id="vol6THE_MEN_OF_THE_NORTH"></a>THE MEN OF THE NORTH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its gay gaudy hues and its sky without cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mild as its breezes, the beautiful West<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May smile like the valleys that dimple its breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South may rejoice in the vine and the palm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its groves, where the midnight is sleepy with balm:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fair though they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There 's an isle in the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The home of the brave and the boast of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear it, ye lands! let the shout echo forth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lords of the world are the Men of the North!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cold though our seasons, and dull though our skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a might in our arms and a fire in our eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dauntless and patient, to dare and to do—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our watchword is "Duty," our maxim is "Through!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter and storm only nerve us the more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chill not the heart, if they creep through the door:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Strong shall we be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In our isle of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The home of the brave and the boast of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firm as the rocks when the storm flashes forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll stand in our courage—the Men of the North!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sunbeams that ripen the olive and vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the face of the slave and the coward may shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses may blossom where Freedom decays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crime be a growth of the Sun's brightest rays.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_29" id="vol6Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Scant though the harvest we reap from the soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Virtue and Health are the children of Toil:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Proud let us be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of our isle of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The home of the brave and the boast of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men with true hearts—let our fame echo forth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, these are the fruit that we grow in the North!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LOVERS_DREAM_OF_THE_WIND" id="vol6THE_LOVERS_DREAM_OF_THE_WIND"></a>THE LOVER'S DREAM OF THE WIND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dream'd thou wert a fairy harp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Untouch'd by mortal hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I the voiceless, sweet west wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A roamer through the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I touch'd, I kiss'd thy trembling strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo! my common air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throbb'd with emotion caught from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turn'd to music rare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dream'd thou wert a rose in bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I the gale of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sought the odours of thy breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bore them on my wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No poorer thou, but richer I—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So rich, that far at sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grateful mariners were glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bless'd both thee and me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_30" id="vol6Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dream'd thou wert the evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I a lake at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That saw thine image all the night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reflected on my breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too far!—too far!—come dwell on Earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be Harp and Rose of May;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need thy music in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy fragrance on my way.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_31" id="vol6Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ARCHIBALD_CRAWFORD" id="vol6ARCHIBALD_CRAWFORD"></a>ARCHIBALD CRAWFORD.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The literary inclinations of his youth had been assiduously followed up, +and his employers, sympathising with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_32" id="vol6Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> 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 <i>Ayr and Wigtonshire Courier</i> 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 <i>The Correspondent</i>, but the +publication, in the course of a few months, was abandoned. A similar +periodical, under the designation of <i>The Gaberlunzie</i>, appeared under +his management in 1827, and extended to sixteen numbers. He latterly +contributed articles in prose and verse to the <i>Ayr Advertiser</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_33" id="vol6Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6BONNIE_MARY_HAY" id="vol6BONNIE_MARY_HAY"></a>BONNIE MARY HAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy eye is the slae, thy hair is the jet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Mary Hay, will you gang wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sun 's in the west, to the hawthorn-tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the hawthorn-tree, in the bonnie berry-den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll tell you, Mary, how I lo'e you then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Mary Hay, it 's haliday to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art couthie, kind, and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Mary Hay, thou maunna say me nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But come to the bower, by the hawthorn brae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But come to the bower, and I 'll tell you a' what 's true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, Mary, I can ne'er lo'e ane but you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SCOTLAND_I_HAVE_NO_HOME_BUT_THEE" id="vol6SCOTLAND_I_HAVE_NO_HOME_BUT_THEE"></a>SCOTLAND, I HAVE NO HOME BUT THEE!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are famous in story—the birth-place of song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy daughters the fairest, the sweetest, the rarest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well may thy pilgrims long for their home.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_34" id="vol6Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grave of my fathers! the land of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glow on, ye southern skies, where fruits wear richer dyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pamper the bigot, assassin, and slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scotland, to thee I 'll twine, with all thy varied clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the fruits that thou bearest are true hearts and brave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grave of my fathers! the land of the free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_35" id="vol6Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6GEORGE_DONALD" id="vol6GEORGE_DONALD"></a>GEORGE DONALD.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Banner of Ulster</i> 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 sub<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_36" id="vol6Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>sequently +printed and circulated in Glasgow. Returning to his native city, he was +fortunate in receiving the kindly patronage of Dr John Smith of the +<i>Examiner</i> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_SPRING_TIME_O_LIFE" id="vol6THE_SPRING_TIME_O_LIFE"></a>THE SPRING TIME O' LIFE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O wat ye wha I met yestreen?"</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spreads the mead wi' fragrant flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While furthy autumn plenty breathes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blessings in abundance showers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en winter, wi' its frost and snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brings meikle still the heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there's a season worth them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that's the spring-time o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In spring the farmer ploughs the field<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That yet will wave wi' yellow corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spring the birdie bigs its bield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In foggy bank or budding thorn;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_37" id="vol6Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The burn and brae, the hill and dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A song of hope are heard to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer, autumn, winter, tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' joy or grief, the work o' spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, youth 's the spring-time o' your life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When seed is sown wi' care and toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hopes are high, and fears are rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest weeds should rise the braird to spoil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've sown the seed, my bairnies dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By precept and example baith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may the hand that guides us here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Preserve it frae the spoiler's skaith!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soon the time may come when you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall miss a mother's tender care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sinfu' world to wander through,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' its stormy strife to share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then mind my words, whare'er ye gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let fortune smile or thrawart be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er let the tempter lead ye wrang—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If sae ye live, ye'll happy dee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_SCARLET_ROSE-BUSH" id="vol6THE_SCARLET_ROSE-BUSH"></a>THE SCARLET ROSE-BUSH.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"There grows a bonnie brier bush."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come see my scarlet rose-bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My father gied to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's growing in our window-sill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae fresh and bonnilie;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_38" id="vol6Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gie my rose-bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' the flowers I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for a pouchfu' o' red gowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae dear it is to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I set it in the best o' mould<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ta'en frae the moudie's hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And covered a' the yird wi' moss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I gather'd on the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the blue-bell blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gowan wat wi' dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my heart was on my rose-bush set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I left them where they grew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I water 't ilka morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' meikle pride and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no a wither'd leaf I leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon its branches fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twa sprouts are rising frae the root,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And four are on the stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three rosebuds and six roses blawn—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis just a perfect gem!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, see my bonnie, blooming bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My father gied to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' roses to the very top,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And branches like a tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It grows upon our window-sill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I watch it tentilie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! I wadna gie my dear rose-bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' the flowers I see.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_39" id="vol6Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6HENRY_GLASSFORD_BELL" id="vol6HENRY_GLASSFORD_BELL"></a>HENRY GLASSFORD BELL.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh +Literary Journal</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_40" id="vol6Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_LIFE_IS_ONE_LONG_THOUGHT_OF_THEE" id="vol6MY_LIFE_IS_ONE_LONG_THOUGHT_OF_THEE"></a>MY LIFE IS ONE LONG THOUGHT OF THEE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remember days of bliss gone by?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou, beside thy native Rhone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'er for our distant streamlets sigh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath thy own glad sun and sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! Leila, wilt thou think of me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She blush'd, and murmur'd in reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"My life is one long thought of thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet girl! I would not have it so;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My destiny must not be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wildly as the wild waves flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will pass this fleeting life of mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And let thy fate be weal or woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts," she smiling said, "are free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well the watchful angels know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My life is one long thought of thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, Leila, may thy thoughts and prayers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be with me in my hour of need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When round me throng the cold world's cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all my heart's fresh sorrows bleed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why, dearest, nurse so dark a creed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For full of joy thy years shall be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mine shall share the blissful meed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For life is one long thought of thee."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_41" id="vol6Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6WHY_IS_MY_SPIRIT_SAD" id="vol6WHY_IS_MY_SPIRIT_SAD"></a>WHY IS MY SPIRIT SAD?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Why is my spirit sad?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because 'tis parting, each succeeding year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With something that it used to hold more dear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than aught that now remains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the past, like a receding sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flits into dimness, and the lonely gale<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er vacant waters reigns!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Why is my spirit sad?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because no more within my soul there dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts fresh as flowers that fill the mountain dell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With innocent delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I am aweary of the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with hot fever taints the springs of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Making the day seem night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Why is my spirit sad?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! ye did not know the lost, the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who loved with me of yore green paths to tread—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The paths of young romance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye never stood with us 'neath summer skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor saw the glad light of their tender eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The Eden of their glance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Why is my spirit sad?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not the beautiful been ta'en away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not the noble-hearted turn'd to clay—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wither'd in root and stem?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see that others, in whose looks are lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiant joys of youth, are round me yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But not—but not like them!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_42" id="vol6Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I would not be less sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My days of mirth are past; droops o'er my brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sheaf of care in sickly paleness now;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The present is around me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that the future were both come and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that I lay where, 'neath a nameless stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Crush'd feelings could not wound me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6GEORDIE_YOUNG" id="vol6GEORDIE_YOUNG"></a>GEORDIE YOUNG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll no walk by the kirk, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll no walk by the manse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I aye meet wi' the minister,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wha looks at me askance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ails ye at the minister?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A douce and sober lad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trow it is na every day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That siclike can be had.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dinna like his smooth-kaim'd hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet his pawkie face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dinna like a preacher, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in a preaching place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then ye 'll gang down by Holylee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye needna look sae scared—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wha kens but at Holylee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll aiblins meet the Laird?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_43" id="vol6Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna bide the Laird, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He says sic things to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae half he says wi' wily words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ae half wi' his e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awa! awa! ye glaikit thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's a' that Geordie Young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Laird has no an e'e like him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the minister a tongue!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He 's fleech'd ye out o' a' ye hae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For nane but him ye care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love can ne'er be lasting, bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That aye gangs cauld and bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The faithfu' heart will aye, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put trust in ane above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how can folks gang bare, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrapp'd in the faulds o' love?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weel, lassie, walk ye by the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And walk ye slow and sly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My certie! weel ye ken the gate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Geordie Young comes by!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His plighted troth is mine, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lang afore the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll loose my silken snood, mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wear the gowden ring.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_44" id="vol6Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_FAIRY_ELLEN" id="vol6MY_FAIRY_ELLEN"></a>MY FAIRY ELLEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beautiful moon! wilt thou tell me where<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou lovest most to be softly gleaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it on some rich bank of flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where 'neath each blossom a fay lies dreaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it on yonder silver lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the fish in green and gold are sparkling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it among those ancient trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the tremulous shadows move soft and darkling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no! said the moon, with a playful smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The best of my beams are for ever dwelling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the exquisite eyes, so deeply blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the eloquent glance of the fairy Ellen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gentlest of zephyrs! pray tell me how<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou lovest to spend a serene May morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When dew-drops are twinkling on every bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And violets wild each glade adorning?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it in kissing the glittering stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er its pebbly channel so gaily rippling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it in sipping the nectar that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bells of the flowers—an innocent tippling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh no! said the zephyr, and softly sigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His voice with a musical melody swelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the mornings of May 'mong the ringlets I play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dance on the brow of the fairy Ellen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White little lily! pray tell me when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy happiest moments the fates allow thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seemest a favourite with bees and men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the boys and butterflies know thee;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_45" id="vol6Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Is it at dawn or at sunset hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That pleasantest fancies are o'er thee stealing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One would think thee a poet, to judge by thy looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or at least a pale-faced man of feeling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh no! said the lily, and slightly blush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My highest ambition 's to be sweet smelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live in the sight, and to die on the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the fairest of beings, the fairy Ellen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would that I were the moon myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or a balmy zephyr, fresh fragrance breathing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a white-crown'd lily, my slight green stem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slily around that dear neck wreathing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worlds would I give to bask in those eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stars, if I had them, for one of those tresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart and my soul, and my body to boot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For merely the smallest of all her kisses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if she would love me, oh heaven and earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not be Jove, the cloud-compelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he offer'd me Juno and Venus both<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In exchange for one smile of my fairy Ellen!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_BACHELORS_COMPLAINT" id="vol6A_BACHELORS_COMPLAINT"></a>A BACHELOR'S COMPLAINT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They 're stepping off, the friends I knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They 're going one by one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They 're taking wives to tame their lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their jovial days are done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can't get one old crony now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To join me in a spree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They've all grown grave, domestic men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They look askance on me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_46" id="vol6Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hate to see them sober'd down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The merry boys and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate to hear them sneering now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At pictures fancy drew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I care not for their married cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their puddings and their soups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And middle-aged relations round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In formidable groups.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though their wife perchance may have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A comely sort of face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the table's upper end<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conduct herself with grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate the prim reserve that reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The caution and the state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate to see my friend grow vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of furniture and plate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, give me back the days again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we have wander'd free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stole the dew from every flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fruit from every tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friends I loved they will not come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They've all deserted me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sit at home and toast their toes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look stupid and sip tea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! alas! for years gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And for the friends I've lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When no warm feeling of the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was chill'd by early frost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these be Hymen's vaunted joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd have him shun my door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless he quench his torch, and live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Henceforth a bachelor.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_47" id="vol6Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_BENNET" id="vol6WILLIAM_BENNET"></a>WILLIAM BENNET.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Dumfries Courier</i>, edited by the ingenious John +M'Diarmid; and in 1825 and the following year conducted the <i>Dumfries +Magazine</i>, in which appeared many interesting articles from his pen. In +December 1826, he became editor of the <i>Glasgow Free Press</i>, 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 <i>Glasgow Constitutional</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_48" id="vol6Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6BLEST_BE_THE_HOUR_OF_NIGHT" id="vol6BLEST_BE_THE_HOUR_OF_NIGHT"></a>BLEST BE THE HOUR OF NIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest be the hour of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, his toils over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swain, with a heart so light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meets with his lover!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet the moon gilds their path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arm in arm straying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds never rise in wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chiding their staying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gently they whisper low:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unseen beside them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good angels watch, that no<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill may betide them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence is everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save when the sighing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is heard, of the breeze's fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fitfully dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How the maid's bosom glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While her swain 's telling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love, that 's been long, she knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In his heart swelling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, when his arms are thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tenderly round her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fears she, in words to own<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What he hath found her!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the first peep of dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Warns them of parting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from each dewy lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blythe birds are starting,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_49" id="vol6Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fondly she hears her swain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vow, though they sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon they shall meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mated for ever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_ROSE_OF_BEAUTY" id="vol6THE_ROSE_OF_BEAUTY"></a>THE ROSE OF BEAUTY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amang the breezy heights and howes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where winds the Milk<a name="vol6FNanchor_6_6" id="vol6FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> sae clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Rose o' beauty sweetly grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Rose I lo'e most dearly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' spring's saft rain and simmer's sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How blooms my Rose divinely!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lang ere blaws the winter wun',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This breast shall nurse it kin'ly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May heaven's dew aye freshly weet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Rose at ilka gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, may nae unhallow'd feet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be near it ever roamin'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I soon shall buy a snug wee cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hae my Rose brought thither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, in that lowne sunny spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We'll bloom and fade thegither.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_50" id="vol6Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6I_LL_THINK_ON_THEE_LOVE" id="vol6I_LL_THINK_ON_THEE_LOVE"></a>I 'LL THINK ON THEE, LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think on thee, Love, when thy bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath borne thee far across the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as the sky is bright or dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be my fate to smile or weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh, when winds and waters keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In trust so dear a charge as thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My anxious fears can never sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till thou again art safe with me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think on thee, Love, when each hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of twilight comes, with pensive mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence, like a spell of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rests, in its depth, on field and wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the mingling shadows brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still closer o'er the lonely sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, on the beach where first we woo'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll pour to heaven my prayers for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then haply on the breeze's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to me steals across the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some angel's voice may answer bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That list'ning heaven consents to save.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, the further boon I crave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance may also granted be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou, return'd, no more shalt brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanderer's perils on the sea!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_51" id="vol6Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_A_MOTHERS_VOICE" id="vol6THERE_S_MUSIC_IN_A_MOTHERS_VOICE"></a>THERE 'S MUSIC IN A MOTHER'S VOICE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's music in a mother's voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More sweet than breezes sighing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's kindness in a mother's glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too pure for ever dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's love within a mother's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So deep, 'tis still o'erflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for her own a tender care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That 's ever, ever growing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when a mother kneels to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And for her child is praying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, who shall half the fervour tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That burns in all she 's saying!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A mother, when she, like a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sets into heaven before us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that bright home of love, all pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still minds and watches o'er us.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_52" id="vol6Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_BRIG_OF_ALLAN" id="vol6THE_BRIG_OF_ALLAN"></a>THE BRIG OF ALLAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, memory, paint, though far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wimpling stream, the broomy brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The upland wood, the hill-top gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whereon the sky seems fallin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paint me each cheery, glist'ning row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shelter'd cots, the woods below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Airthrie's healing waters flow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By bonny Brig of Allan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paint yonder Grampian heights sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Roman eagles could not climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Stirling, crown'd in after time<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With Royalty's proud dwallin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, with the Ochils, sentry keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Forth, that fain in view would sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tries, from his Links, oft back to peep<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At bonny Brig of Allan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lovely, when the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greets Stirling towers, so steep and dun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silver Forth's calm breast upon<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The golden beams are fallin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, trotting down to join his flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through rocky steeps, besprent with wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright, in morning's joyous mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Appears the stream of Allan!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_53" id="vol6Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon its banks how sweet to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rod and line, the livelong day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or trace each rural charm, away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From cark of every callin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There dove-like, o'er my path would brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit pure of solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For native each rapt, genial mood<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is to the beauteous Allan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, witching as its scenes, and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is its cloudless summer light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be still its maids, the soul's delight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of every truthful callan'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be health around it ever spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To light the eye, to lift the head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy on every heart be shed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That beats by Brig of Allan!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_54" id="vol6Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6GEORGE_OUTRAM" id="vol6GEORGE_OUTRAM"></a>GEORGE OUTRAM.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Glasgow Herald</i>, +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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_55" id="vol6Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6CHARGE_ON_A_BOND_OF_ANNUITY7" id="vol6CHARGE_ON_A_BOND_OF_ANNUITY7"></a>CHARGE ON A BOND OF ANNUITY.<a name="vol6FNanchor_7_7" id="vol6FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Duncan Davidson."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gaed to spend a week in Fife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An unco week it proved to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there I met a waesome wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lamenting her viduity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grief brak' out sae fierce and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought her heart wad burst the shell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, I was sae left to mysel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sell't her an annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bargain lookit fair eneugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She just was turned o' saxty-three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I couldna guess'd she 'd prove sae teugh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By human ingenuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But years have come, and years have gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there she 's yet as stieve 's a stane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The auld wife 's growing young again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since she got her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She 's crined awa to bane an' skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But that it seems is nought to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's like to live, although she 's in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The last stage o' tenuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She munches wi' her wizen'd gums,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' stumps about on legs o' thrums,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But comes—as sure as Christmas comes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ca' for her annuity.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_56" id="vol6Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She jokes her joke, an' cracks her crack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As spunkie as a growin' flea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' there she sits upon my back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A livin' perpetuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hurkles by her ingle side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' toasts an' tans her wrinkled hide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord kens how lang she yet may bide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ca' for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I read the tables drawn wi' care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For an Insurance Company;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her chance o' life was stated there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' perfect perspicuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tables here, or tables there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's lived ten years beyond her share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An 's like to live a dozen mair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ca' for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gat the loon that drew the deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We spell'd it ower richt carefully;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain he yerk'd his souple head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To find an ambiguity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's dated, tested, a' complete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The proper stamp, nae word delete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And diligence, as on decreet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May pass for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I thought that grief might gar her quit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her only son was lost at sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aff her wits behuved to flit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' leave her in fatuity.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_57" id="vol6Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She threeps, an' threeps he 's livin' yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the tellin' she can get;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But catch the doited wife forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ca' for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If there 's a sough o' cholera<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or typhus, wha sae gleg as she!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In siccan superfluity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She doesna need—she's fever proof—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pest walked o'er her very roof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tauld me sae, and then her loof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Held out for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae day she fell, her arm she brak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A compound fracture as could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae leech the cure wad undertak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er was the gratuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's cured! she handles 't like a flail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It does as weel in bits as hale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I 'm a broken man mysel'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' her and her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her broozled flesh and broken banes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are weel as flesh and banes can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She beats the taeds that live in stanes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fatten in vacuity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They die when they 're exposed to air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They canna thole the atmosphere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her! expose her onywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lives for her annuity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_58" id="vol6Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The water-drap wears out the rock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As this eternal jade wears me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could withstand the single shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not the continuity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's pay me here, an' pay me there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' pay me, pay me evermair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll gang demented wi' despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm <i>charged</i> for her annuity.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_59" id="vol6Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6HENRY_INGLIS" id="vol6HENRY_INGLIS"></a>HENRY INGLIS.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6WEEP_AWAY" id="vol6WEEP_AWAY"></a>WEEP AWAY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep away, heart, weep away!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let no muleteer<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weep; for a brave heart may<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lament for a dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fickle maid.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_60" id="vol6Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lofty sky weeps in cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The earth weeps in dews<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From its core;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The diamond brooks weep aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers change the hues<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which they wore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grass mourns in the sunbeam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gums weep the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And in dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if mourn meadow and stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inanimate these—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May not I?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wood-pigeon mourns his mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The caged birds bewail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Freedom gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall not man mourn over fate?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dumb sorrow assail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Him alone?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then weep on, heart, weep away!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let no muleteer<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weep; for a brave heart may<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lament for a dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fickle maid.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_61" id="vol6Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_MANSON" id="vol6JAMES_MANSON"></a>JAMES MANSON.</h2> + +<p>James Manson, one of the conductors of the <i>Glasgow Herald</i>, 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OCEAN" id="vol6OCEAN"></a>OCEAN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Set to Music by H. Lambeth.</i></p> + +<h4>ON SHORE—CALM.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Summer Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Placid Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft and sweet thy lullaby;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shadows lightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sunbeams brightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flicker o'er thee noiselessly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Resting gently on thy bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snowy sea-gulls preen thy wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While perfumed sighs, from many a blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Float around the strain the skylark sings.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_62" id="vol6Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Love's emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Summer Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like thy self, 'neath cloudless skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Glances brightly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dances lightly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the fond illusion flies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>AT SEA—STORM.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Winter Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Furious Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce and loud thy choral lay:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Storm-clouds soaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whirlwinds roaring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thy breast in madness play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Homeless petrels shriek their omen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harshly 'mid thy billows' roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleshless bones of shipwreck'd seamen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dash against thy rock-ribb'd shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">War's commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Winter Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like thyself, when tempest driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By passion hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Would wreck the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mock the wrath-scowling heaven.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_63" id="vol6Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_HUNTERS_DAUGHTER" id="vol6THE_HUNTERS_DAUGHTER"></a>THE HUNTER'S DAUGHTER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Set to Music by Herr Kücken.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When loud the horn is sounding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the distant hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then would I rove, ne'er weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Hunter's Daughter near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By flowery margin'd rills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid stately pines embosom'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There stands the Hunter's cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which this maiden daily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At morning peeps so gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Contented with her lot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This Hunter and his Daughter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make everything their prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He slays the wild roe bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes young hearts are wounding—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No shafts so sure as they!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6AN_INVITATION" id="vol6AN_INVITATION"></a>AN INVITATION.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music arranged by Julius Siligmann.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The skylark sings his matin lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waking flowers at dawning day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With perfumed breath, sigh, Come! come! come!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, haste, Love, come with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the wild wood come with me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_64" id="vol6Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, the wing'd warblers singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauteous flowers, their perfume flinging,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wait for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The sunlight sleeps upon the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sparkles o'er the murmuring sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanton wind sighs, Come! come! come!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, haste, Love, come with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the wild wood come with me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come and gather luscious berries,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clustering grapes and melting cherries<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wait for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">My bird of love, my beauteous flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, reign the queen of yonder bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis True-love whispers, Come! come! come!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, haste, then, come with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the wild wood come with me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's first fairest hours are fleeting—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope, and Joy, and Love's fond greeting<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wait for thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6CUPID_AND_THE_ROSE-BUD" id="vol6CUPID_AND_THE_ROSE-BUD"></a>CUPID AND THE ROSE-BUD.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Set to Music by H. Lambeth.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Love once woo'd a budding Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Sing hey down ho, the bleak winds blow.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fond delight his bosom glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>How softly fall the flakes of snow.</i>)<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_65" id="vol6Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Love watch'd the flower whose ruby tips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peep'd coyly forth, like pouting lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then nearer to the Rose he trips;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>The stately oak will soon lie low.</i>)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Love was fond and bashful too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Sing hey down ho, the sea rolls aye.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sigh'd and knew not what to do;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Life like an arrow flies away.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then whispering low his cherish'd wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Rose-bud trembled on her bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While redder grew her maiden blush;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Ruddy eve forecasts the brightest day.</i>)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To pull this Rose young Love then tried;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>'Tis sweet to hear the skylark sing.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her blush of hope she strove to hide;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Joy soars aloft on painted wing.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love press'd the Rose-bud to his breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He felt the thorn, but well he guess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such "Nay" meant "Yea," 'twas fond Love's jest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>'Tis honey soothes the bee's fell sting.</i>)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6ROBIN_GOODHEARTS_CAROL" id="vol6ROBIN_GOODHEARTS_CAROL"></a>ROBIN GOODHEART'S CAROL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"The Brave Old Oak."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joyous songs abound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our log burns high, but it glows less bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the eyes which sparkle round.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_66" id="vol6Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The merry laugh, and the jocund tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the kiss 'neath the mistletoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make care fly as fast as the blustering gale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wreaths the new fallen snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And joyous thoughts abound;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The log burns high, but it glows less bright<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Than the eyes which sparkle round.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! see the old grandsire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgets his weight of years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He laughs with the young, and a fitful fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beams through his unbidden tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tremulous tenor he joins the strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song of his manhood's prime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his thoughts grow young, and he laughs again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While his aged head nods time.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! and the infant's heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beats high with a new delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And youths and maidens, with guileless art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make merry the livelong night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time flies on with gladsome cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And welcomes pass around—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the warmest night of all the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though winter hath chain'd the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_67" id="vol6Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_HEDDERWICK" id="vol6JAMES_HEDDERWICK"></a>JAMES HEDDERWICK.</h2> + +<p>James Hedderwick, proprietor and editor of the <i>Glasgow Citizen</i>, 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 +<i>Scotsman</i> 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 +<i>Scotsman</i>, were copied into <i>Chambers' Edinburgh Journal</i>, 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 <i>Fraser's Magazine</i>. 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 +<i>Glasgow<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_68" id="vol6Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> Citizen</i>—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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_BARK_AT_SEA" id="vol6MY_BARK_AT_SEA"></a>MY BARK AT SEA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away, away, like a child at play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a living ocean-child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the feathery spray she cleaves her way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the billows' music wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea is her wide-spread pleasure ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the waves around her leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with joyous bound, to their mystic sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She dances o'er the deep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes at rest, on the water's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She lies with folded wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, wind-chased and wave-caress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She moves a joyous thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And away she flies all gleaming bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While a wave in lofty pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a gallant knight, in plumage white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is bounding by her side!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_69" id="vol6Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For her glorious path the sea she hath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she wanders bold and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tempest's breath and the billows' wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are her mighty minstrelsy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A queen the crested waves among,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A light and graceful form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sweeps along, to the wild-winds' song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the genius of the storm!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SORROW_AND_SONG" id="vol6SORROW_AND_SONG"></a>SORROW AND SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not over poet's wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mourn not his mischances;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow is the source of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of gentle fancies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rills o'er rocky beds are borne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere they gush in whiteness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pebbles are wave-chafed and worn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere they shew their brightness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetest gleam the morning flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When in tears they waken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth enjoys refreshing showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the boughs are shaken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ceylon's glistening pearls are sought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its deepest waters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the darkest mines are brought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gems for beauty's daughters.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_70" id="vol6Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through the rent and shiver'd rock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Limpid water breaketh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but when the chords are struck<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That their music waketh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flowers, by heedless footstep press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All their sweets surrender;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold must brook the fiery test<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere it shew its splendour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the twilight, cold and damp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gloom and silence bringeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the glow-worm lights its lamp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the night-bird singeth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stars come forth when Night her shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Draws as Daylight fainteth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only on the tearful cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God his rainbow painteth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not, then, o'er poet's wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mourn not his mischances;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow is the source of song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of gentle fancies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LAND_FOR_ME" id="vol6THE_LAND_FOR_ME"></a>THE LAND FOR ME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've been upon the moonlit deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the wind had died away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like an Ocean-god asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bark majestic lay;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_71" id="vol6Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But lovelier is the varied scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hill, the lake, the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bathed in light of Midnight's Queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land! the land! for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glancing waves I 've glided o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When gently blew the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter was the distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The zephyr 'mong the trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The murmur of the mountain rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blossoms waving free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song of birds on every hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land! the land! for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The billows I have been among<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they roll'd in mountains dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Night her blackest curtain hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around our heaving bark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give me, when the storm is fierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My home and fireside glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where winds may howl, but dare not pierce;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land! the land! for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when around the lightning flash'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've been upon the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the gulf beneath I 've dash'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adown the liquid steep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now that I am safe on shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There let me ever be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea let others wander o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land! the land! for me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_72" id="vol6Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_EMIGRANTS" id="vol6THE_EMIGRANTS"></a>THE EMIGRANTS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eerie the face of the fast-falling night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But closing the shutters, we made ourselves cheery<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gas-light and fire-light, and young faces bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, hark! came a chorus of wailing and anguish!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We ran to the door and look'd out through the dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till gazing, at length we began to distinguish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The slow-moving masts of an ocean-bound bark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! 'twas the emigrants leaving the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their homes in the city, their haunts in the dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From kindred and friends they had parted for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But their voices still blended in cries of farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We saw not the eyes that their last looks were taking;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We heard but the shouts that were meant to be cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But which told of the aching of hearts that were breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A past of delight and a future of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And long as we listen'd, in lulls of the night breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On our ears the sad shouting in faint music fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till methought it seem'd lost in the roll of the white seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rocks and the winds only echoed farewell.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_73" id="vol6Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More bright was our home-hearth, more bright and more cosy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we shut out the night and its darkness once more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pale were the cheeks, that so radiant and rosy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were flush'd with delight a few moments before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So I told how the morning, all lovely and tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet dew on the hills, and soft light on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would follow the exiles and float with its splendour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gild the far land where their homes were to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the eyes of my children were gladness and gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their little prayer utter'd, how calm was their sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I in my dreaming could hear the wind screaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fancy I heard hoarse replies from the deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And often, when slumber had cool'd my brow's fever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dream-utter'd shriek of despair broke the spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the voice of the emigrants leaving the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And startling the night with their cries of farewell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6FIRST_GRIEF" id="vol6FIRST_GRIEF"></a>FIRST GRIEF.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me first and early love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outlives all after dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the memory of a first great grief<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me more lasting seems;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grief that marks our dawning youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To memory ever clings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the path of future years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lengthen'd shadow flings.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_74" id="vol6Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, oft my mind recalls the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When to my father's home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death came—an uninvited guest—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From his dwelling in the tomb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had not seen his face before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shudder'd at the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shudder still to think upon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The anguish of that night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A youthful brow and ruddy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Became all cold and wan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eye grew dim in which the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of radiant fancy shone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold was the cheek, and cold the brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eye was fix'd and dim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one there mourn'd a brother dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who would have died for him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know not if 'twas summer then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know not if 'twas spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if the birds sang on the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I did not hear them sing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If flowers came forth to deck the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their bloom I did not see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd upon one wither'd flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And none else bloom'd for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sad and silent time it was<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within that house of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All eyes were dull and overcast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every voice was low!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from each cheek at intervals<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blood appear'd to start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if recall'd in sudden haste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To aid the sinking heart!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_75" id="vol6Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Softly we trod, as if afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mar the sleeper's sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stole last looks of his pale face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For memory to keep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him the agony was o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now the pain was ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thoughts of his sweet childhood rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like odour from dead flowers!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when at last he was borne afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the world's weary strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft in thought did we again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Live o'er his little life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His every look—his every word—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His very voice's tone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came back to us like things whose worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is only prized when gone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grief has pass'd with years away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy has been my lot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the one is oft remember'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the other soon forgot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gayest hours trip lightest by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave the faintest trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the deep, deep track that sorrow wears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time never can efface!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_76" id="vol6Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LINNET" id="vol6THE_LINNET"></a>THE LINNET.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tuck, tuck, feer—from the green and growing leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ic, ic, ic—from the little song-bird's throat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the silver chorus weaves in the sun and 'neath the eaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from dewy clover fields comes the lowing of the beeves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the summer in the heavens is afloat!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wye, wye, chir—'tis the little linnet sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weet, weet, weet—how his pipy treble trills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his bill and on his wings what a joy the linnet brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As over all the sunny earth his merry lay he flings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Giving gladness to the music of the rills!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ic, ic, ir—from a happy heart unbound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lug, lug, jee—from the dawn till close of day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is rapture in the sound as it fills the sunshine round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the ploughman's careless whistle, and the shepherd's pipe are drown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the mower sings unheeded 'mong the hay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jug, jug, joey—oh, how sweet the linnet's theme!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peu, peu, poy—is he wooing all the while?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does he dream he is in heaven, and is telling now his dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe the heart of pretty girl basking by the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or waiting for her lover at the stile?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_77" id="vol6Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pipe, pipe, chow—will the linnet never weary?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bel bel, tyr—is he pouring forth his vows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden lone and dreary may feel her heart grow cheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet none may know the linnet's bliss except his own sweet dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her little household nestled 'mong the boughs!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_78" id="vol6Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_BROCKIE" id="vol6WILLIAM_BROCKIE"></a>WILLIAM BROCKIE.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>The Galashiels Weekly Journal</i>. He subsequently +edited <i>The Border Watch</i>, 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 +<i>Shields Gazette</i>. 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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6YE_LL_NEVER_GANG_BACK_TO_YER_MITHER_NAE_MAIR" id="vol6YE_LL_NEVER_GANG_BACK_TO_YER_MITHER_NAE_MAIR"></a>YE 'LL NEVER GANG BACK TO YER MITHER NAE MAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've gien ye my word, and I 'll gie ye 't again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's naething to fear ye—be lichtsome and cheerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll never forsake ye, nor leave ye yer lane.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_79" id="vol6Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +<span class="i0">We 're sune to be married—I needna say mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our love will be leal, though our livin' be bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a house o' our ain we 'll be cantie and fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We needna be troubled ere trouble be sprung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warld 's afore us—we 're puir, but we 're young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fate will be kind if we 're willint in mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae keep up yer heart, lass, and dinna be dung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folk a' hae their troubles, and we 'll get our share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we 'll warsle out through them, and scorn to despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae cheer up yer heart, for we never shall part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye 'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While we live for each other, our lot will be blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though freens sud forget us, they 'll never be miss'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll sit down at e'en by the ingle sae bien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the cares o' the world 'ill a' be dismiss'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A couple that strive to be honest and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May be rich without siller, and guid without lear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be gentle and true, an' yese never need rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sigh to win back to yer mither nae mair.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_80" id="vol6Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ALEXANDER_MLACHLAN" id="vol6ALEXANDER_MLACHLAN"></a>ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LANG_WINTER_EEN" id="vol6THE_LANG_WINTER_EEN"></a>THE LANG WINTER E'EN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet summer 's awa, wi' her verdure sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ance bonny woodlands are leafless an' bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cot wee robin returns for a screen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae the cauld stormy blast o' the lang winter e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But charms there are still, though nature has nane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the hard rackin' toils o' the day by are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then round the fireside social hearts do convene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasantly pass the lang winter e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O' warldly wealth I hae got little share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet riches and wealth breed but sorrow and care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just gi'e me an hour wi' some auld honest frien',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crack o'er youth's joys in the lang winter e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thochts o' our youth are lichtsome and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the strains o' the lute they fa' saft on the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But chiefly the bliss I ha'e shared wi' my Jean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some love-screenin' shade on a lang winter e'en.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_81" id="vol6Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6THOMAS_YOUNG" id="vol6THOMAS_YOUNG"></a>THOMAS YOUNG.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Dundee Advertiser</i>, 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6ANTOINETTE_OR_THE_FALLS" id="vol6ANTOINETTE_OR_THE_FALLS"></a>ANTOINETTE; OR, THE FALLS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">By Niagara's flood<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Antoinette stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch'd the wild waves rush on,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they leapt below<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Into vapoury snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or fell into flakes of foam.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_82" id="vol6Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The sun's last beams<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fell in golden gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On water and wave-girt isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And in tinge all fair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dipp'd the girl's bright hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heighten'd her happy smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Away—away!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In wild ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She threads the abyss's brink,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where waters—black—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the cataract<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into drifted snow-waves sink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A father's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Looketh anxiously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the freaks of his favour'd child,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till her spirit appals<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His soul, and he calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Antoinette" in accents wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A bolder heart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Loves the girl's free sport,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he grasps her by the gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then tosseth her high<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the twilight sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, heavens! she falleth down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">She sinks in the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He swimmeth to save!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, never was mortal arm<br /></span> +<span class="i4">More manfully braced,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As it grasps her slim waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And struggles in frantic alarm!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_83" id="vol6Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">In vain does he strike—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fresh waves break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the doom'd ones are downward borne!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet the swimmer's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Seemeth still to defy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The might of the merciless storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">More loud than before<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is the cataract's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the furrow'd wave is bright<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With many a pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the shining swirl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the water's lucid light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And down below<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is the woolly snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Niagara's wrathful bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But the lip of the bold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hath never told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secrets that there lie hid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A strong arm, press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Round a maiden's waist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the doleful morrow is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And her oozy hair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Laves his forehead bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the waft of the wavy stream.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_84" id="vol6Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ROBERT_WILSON" id="vol6ROBERT_WILSON"></a>ROBERT WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>brochures</i> on +subjects of a socio-political nature. He has latterly resided at +Aberdour, Fifeshire.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6AWAY_AWAY_MY_GALLANT_BARK" id="vol6AWAY_AWAY_MY_GALLANT_BARK"></a>AWAY, AWAY, MY GALLANT BARK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away, away, my gallant bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waves are white and high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fast the long becalmèd clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are sailing in the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merry breeze which wafts them on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And chafes the billow's spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will urge thee in thy watery flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My gallant bark, away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, like the sea-bird's snowy plumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are spread thy wingèd sails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soar above the mountain waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scoop their glassy vales;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_85" id="vol6Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the bird, thou 'lt calmly rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy azure journey o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of thy folded wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the sunny shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away, away, my gallant bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the billow's foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leave awhile, for ocean's strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The quiet haunts of home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green fields of my fatherland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For many a stormy bay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blazing hearth for beacon-light:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My gallant bark, away!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LOVE" id="vol6LOVE"></a>LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What fond, delicious ecstasy does early love impart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless, as a spring-tide sea, it flows into the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pervading with its living wave the bosom's inmost core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thrills with many a gentle hope it never felt before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And o'er the stripling's glowing heart, extending far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through passion's troubled realm does Love with angel sway preside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiles are shed that cast a light o'er many a future year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whispers soft are conjured up of lips that are not near.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_86" id="vol6Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With promises of fairyland this daylight world teems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep comes with forgetfulness or fraught with lovely dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there is magic in the touch, and music in the sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, far more eloquent than speech, a language in the eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hope the constant bosom cheers with prospects ever new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if the favour'd one prove false, oh! who can then be true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fond illusions disappear, like slumber's shadowy train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we ne'er recall those vanish'd hopes, nor feel that love again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_87" id="vol6Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6EDWARD_POLIN" id="vol6EDWARD_POLIN"></a>EDWARD POLIN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle</i>. In 1843 he accepted the +editorship of the <i>Newcastle Courant</i>—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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_88" id="vol6Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_GOOD_OLD_SONG" id="vol6A_GOOD_OLD_SONG"></a>A GOOD OLD SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have wander'd afar, 'neath stranger skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And have revell'd amid their flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have lived in the light of Italian eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dream'd in Italian bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the wondrous strains of their sunny clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have been trill'd to enchant mine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh, how I longed for the song and the time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When my heart could respond with its tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then sing me a song, a good old song—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Not the foreign, the learn'd, the grand—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But a simple song, a good old song<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of my own dear fatherland.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have heard, with the great, and the proud, and the gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All, all they would have me adore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that music divine that, enraptured, they say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can be equall'd on earth never more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it may be their numbers indeed are divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though they move not my heart through mine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a ballad old of the dear "langsyne"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can alone claim my tribute of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have come from a far and a foreign clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mine own loved haunts once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a yearning for all of my childhood's time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dear home-sounds of yore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, if there yet be love for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, away with those stranger lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now let my only welcome be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An old song of my boyhood's days.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_89" id="vol6Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ALEXANDER_BUCHANAN" id="vol6ALEXANDER_BUCHANAN"></a>ALEXANDER BUCHANAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6I_WANDERD_ALANE" id="vol6I_WANDERD_ALANE"></a>I WANDER'D ALANE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lucy's Flittin'."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dun clouds o' nicht were a' wearin' awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun rose in glory, the gray hills adornin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' glintin like gowd were their tappits o' snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adown by my side row'd the rock-bedded Kelvin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While nature aroun' was beginnin' to green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' auld cottar bodies their yardies were delvin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kennin' thrift in the morn brocht pleasure at e'en.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_90" id="vol6Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I leant me against an auld mossy-clad palin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' noo an' then dichted a tear frae my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd on the bodies, an' envied their toilin'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though lowly their lot, they seem'd happy by me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought on my riches, yet feckless the treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tried to forget, but the labour was vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wifie an' bairn were a' my life's pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' they to the grave baith thegither had gane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thochts o' her love had awaken'd my sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laugh o' my bairnie cam' back on mine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', piercing my heart wi' the force o' an arrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It open'd anew the saft channel o' tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grat an' I sabb'd till I thocht life wad lea' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' happy I then could hae parted wi' life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For naething on earth sic enjoyment could gie me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the glee o' my bairn an' smile o' my wife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, weary the day was when they were ta'en frae me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leavin' me lane, the last leaf on the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae comfort the cauld look o' strangers can gie me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm wae, and they a' look as waefu' on me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wander me aften to break melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On ilk thing that 's leevin' the maxim I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not walth to the weary 's like peace to the lowly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae, burden'd wi' grief, I maun gang till I die.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_91" id="vol6Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6KATIE_BLAIR8" id="vol6KATIE_BLAIR8"></a>KATIE BLAIR.<a name="vol6FNanchor_8_8" id="vol6FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've met wi' mony maidens fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In kintras far awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've met wi' mony here at hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Baith bonny dames an' braw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nane e'er had the power to charm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love into a snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till ance I saw the witchin' e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' smile o' Katie Blair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She wons by Kelvin's bonnie banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar' thick the greenwoods grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whar' waters loupin' drouk the leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While merrily they row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They drouk the lily an' the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mony flowerets fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet they ne'er kiss a flower sae sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As winsome Katie Blair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is a queen owre a' the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' garden an' o' lea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her ae sweet smile mair cheering is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than a' their balms to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As licht to morn she's a' to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bosom's only care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' worthy o' the truest love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is winsome Katie Blair.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_92" id="vol6Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6DAVID_TAYLOR" id="vol6DAVID_TAYLOR"></a>DAVID TAYLOR.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_AIN_GUDEMAN" id="vol6MY_AIN_GUDEMAN"></a>MY AIN GUDEMAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dear, dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my ain gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For kindly, frank, an' free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my ain gudeman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though thretty years ha'e fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' five sin' we were wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae bitter words I 've had<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my ain gudeman.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've had seven bonnie bairns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my ain gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I 've nursed them i' their turns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ain gudeman;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_93" id="vol6Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' ane did early dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the lave frae skaith are free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a blessin' they 're to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' my ain gudeman.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cheerie clamb the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my ain gudeman;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', if it 's Heaven's will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my ain gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's calm afternoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wad toddle cannie doun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne at the foot sleep soun'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my ain gudeman.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_94" id="vol6Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ROBERT_CATHCART" id="vol6ROBERT_CATHCART"></a>ROBERT CATHCART.</h2> + +<p>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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MARY" id="vol6MARY"></a>MARY</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet 's the gloamin's dusky gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spreadin' owre the lea, Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeter far thy love in bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk blaws alane for me, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the woods in silence sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is hid in dusk the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the flowers in sorrow weep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll sigh and smile wi' thee, Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When love plays in rosy beams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roun' the hawthorn-tree, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thine e'e a language gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk tells o' love for me, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy sigh blends wi' my smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence reigns o'er us the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then my heart, 'mid flutt'ring toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tells thy love's bloom'd for me, Mary.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_95" id="vol6Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When our hands are join'd in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er to part again, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death ance mair his arrows prove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tak us for his ain, Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then our joys are crown'd wi' bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a hallow'd hour like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We in rapture join to kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And taste o' heaven again, Mary.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_96" id="vol6Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_JAMIE" id="vol6WILLIAM_JAMIE"></a>WILLIAM JAMIE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6AULD_SCOTIAS_SANGS" id="vol6AULD_SCOTIAS_SANGS"></a>AULD SCOTIA'S SANGS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although the lays o' ither lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e mony an artfu' air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They want the stirrin' melody<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An auld man lo'es to hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotia's sangs hae winnin' charms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which maks the bosom fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to her sons, that 's far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' thochts o' hame again.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_97" id="vol6Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet bygane scenes, and native charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They fondly bring to min'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trystin'-tree and bonny lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi a' love's dreams langsyne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! lilt me owre some tender strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For weel I lo'e to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be 't bonny "Broom o' Cowdenknowes,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And "Bush aboon Traquair."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or "Banks and braes o' bonny Doon,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whaur Robin tuned his lyre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And "Roslin Castle's" ruined wa's—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! sing, and I'll admire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I hae heard auld Scotia's sangs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sung owre and owre wi' glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mair I hear their artless strains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They dearer grow to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enchanting strains again they bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond memory glints alang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To humble bards wha woke the lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wove the patriot's sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! leeze me on our ain auld sangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sangs o' youth and glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They tell o' Bruce and glorious deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which made our country free.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_98" id="vol6Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_CRAWFORD" id="vol6JOHN_CRAWFORD"></a>JOHN CRAWFORD.</h2> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_99" id="vol6Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +epistle in tribute to his genius is from the pen of Mr Scott Riddell.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The days, when write wad minstrel men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ane anither thus, are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And days ha'e come upon us when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bards praise nae anthems but their own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will love the fashion old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While breath frae heaven this breast can draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy when I my tale have told<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Anent the Bard of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, Crawford, sung hast mony a lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far mair through nature's power than art's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring them frae thine ain, that they<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might reach and gladden other hearts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore our hearts shall honour thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And say't alike in cot and ha'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sublime thro' pure simplicity<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is he—the Bard of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though far o'er earth these lays shall roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make to mankind their appeal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not because they 'll lack a home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Scottish hearts, as wont, can feel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swains shall sing them on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maidens in the greenwood-shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mothers bless, wi' warm guid-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gifted Bard of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en weans, wi' their shauchled shoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clouted hose, and pinafores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will lilt, methinks, these lays, sae soon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they can staucher 'boot the doors:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae shall they sing anent themsells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To nature true, as its ain law;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For minstrel nane on earth excels<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this the Bard of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fresh as the moorland's early dews,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glowing as the woodland rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hearts, his thought gives forth the hues,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As richly bright as heaven's ain bow 's—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_100" id="vol6Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With me, my native land, rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let the bard thy bosom thaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Spring's sweet breathing comes the voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of him wha sings frae Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rest thee, Crawford, on the lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thus, if song thy soul shall sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll bless thee, while thy toil-worn han'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pu's for itsel' a flower or twa;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis idle—gowd-gear hearts will say—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But maist for whilk will tear-drops fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When death has come, and flowers shall bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon the Bard of Alloa?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sing, ye bards, to nature true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glory shall your brows adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And else than this, by none or few,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The poet's wreath will long be worn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld fa' the notes o' him wha sings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' scenes whilk man yet never saw—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour then, frae nature's ain heart-strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your strains like him of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Possess maun he a poet's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he maun ha'e a poet's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha deftly plays the generous part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That warms the cauld, and charms the kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor scorn, ye frozen anes, the powers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk hinder other hearts to fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a sordid sink—like yours—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But bless the Bard of Alloa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! little ye may trow or ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mony cares, and waes, and toils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mang hearts and hames o' lowly men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk nought save poetry beguiles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lifts fu' mony fortune 'boon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she begins her face to thraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er sae sweet a harp could tune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his that sounds frae Alloa.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_101" id="vol6Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as for me, ere this I'd lain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where mark'd my head a mossy stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had it not made the joys my ain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When a' life's other joys were gane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If 'mang the mountains lone and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unknown, my early joys I sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When cares and woes wad life belay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How could my harp away be flung?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dearest power in life below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is life's ain native power of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he alone can truly know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom it truly may belong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lighten'd hath it fu' mony a step,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lessen'd hath it mony a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lighted up the rays o' hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ay, and it up shall light them still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! avarice cauld can gowd secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition win the wreath o' fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth gies reputed wit and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crowns wi' joy the owner's aim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But be my meed the generous heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For nought can charm this heart o' mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those who own the undying art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gies a claim to Ossian's line.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hale be thy heart, dear Crawford—hale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be every heart belonging thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day whan fortune gies ye kale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out through the reek, may ye ne'er see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk son o' song is dear to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And though thy face I never saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll honour till the day I dee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gifted Bard o' Alloa.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_102" id="vol6Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_AULD_WIFIE_JEAN" id="vol6MY_AULD_WIFIE_JEAN"></a>MY AULD WIFIE JEAN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"There 'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My couthie auld wifie, aye blythsome to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As years slip awa' aye the dearer to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ferlies o' fashion I carena ae preen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I cleek to the kirk wi' my auld wifie Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thoughts o' the past are aye pleasin' to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mair sae when love lights my auld wifie's e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then I can speak o' the days I ha'e seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When care found nae hame i' the heart o' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A hantle we've borne since that moment o' bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae thy lips, breathin' balm, when I stole the first kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I read a response to my vows in thy e'en.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An, blushin', I prest to my bosom my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a rose set in snaw was the bloom on thy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hair, wi' its silken snood, glossy and sleek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Laird o' Drumlochie, sae lithless and lean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad ha'e gane a lang mile for ae glisk o' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy mither was dead, and thy faither was fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the lang-luggit lairdie wad ca' thee his ain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But auld age and frailty could ne'er gang atween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vows I had niffer'd wi' bonnie young Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna weel work, an' ye 're weary an' worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gudes and the ills lang o' life we ha'e borne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we ha'e a hame, an' we 're cozie and bein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thrift I've to thank o' my auld wifie Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Baith beddin' an' cleadin' o' a' kind ha'e we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sowp for the needy we 've aye had to gie,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_103" id="vol6Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A bite and a drap for baith fremit an' frien',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was aye the warst wish o' my auld wifie Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The puir beildless body has scugg'd the cauld blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Yont our hallan he 's houft till the gurl gaed past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a bite aff our board, aye sae tidy an' clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 's gat wi' gudewill frae my auld wifie Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our hopes we ha'e set where our bairnies ha'e gaen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though lyart we've grown since they frae us were ta'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thoughts o' them yet brings the tears to our e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aft I 've to comfort my auld wifie Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The paughty and proud ha'e been laid i' the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the first hairst I shore, since the first clod I cuist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon we'll lie laigh; but aboon we 've a Frien',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bright days are comin' for me an' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LAND_O_THE_BONNET_AND_PLAID" id="vol6THE_LAND_O_THE_BONNET_AND_PLAID"></a>THE LAND O' THE BONNET AND PLAID.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurra! for the land o' the broom-cover'd brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land o' the rowan, the haw, and the slae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where waves the blue harebell in dingle and glade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land o' the pibroch, the bonnet, and plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurra! for the hills o' the cromlech and cairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blossoms the thistle by hillocks o' fern;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Freedom in triumph an altar has made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For holiest rites in the land o' the plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A coronal wreath, where the wild flowers bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To garnish the martyr and patriot's tomb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall their names ever perish—their fame ever fade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ennobled the land o' the bonnet and plaid?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_104" id="vol6Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hame o' my bairnhood, ye hills o' my love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haunt o' the freeman for aye may ye prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And honour'd forever be matron and maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land o' the heather, the bonnet, and plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurra! for the land o' the deer and the rae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the gowany glen and the bracken-clad brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blooms our ain thistle, in sunshine and shade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear badge o' the land o' the bonnet and plaid.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SING_ON_FAIRY_DEVON9" id="vol6SING_ON_FAIRY_DEVON9"></a>SING ON, FAIRY DEVON.<a name="vol6FNanchor_9_9" id="vol6FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing on, fairy Devon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong gardens and bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where love's feast lies spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In an Eden o' flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What visions o' beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind has possess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy gowany dell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a seraph might rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing on, lovely river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hillock and tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lay o' the loves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' my Jessie and me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nae angel lightin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A posie to pu',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can match the fair form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the lassie I lo'e.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_105" id="vol6Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet river, dear river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing on in your glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy pure breast the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' my Jessie I see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How aft ha'e I wander'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gray gloamin' fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare dreamin's o' heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lassie to tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing on, lovely Devon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sang that ye sung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earth in her beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae night's bosom sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lanesome and eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This warld aye would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did clouds ever fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atween Jessie and me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6ANN_O_CORNYLEE" id="vol6ANN_O_CORNYLEE"></a>ANN O' CORNYLEE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Gaelic Air</span>—<i>"Soraiadh slan do'un Ailleagan."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll twine a gowany garland<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' lilies frae the spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest flowers by Clutha's side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a' their bloom I 'll bring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll wreath a flowery wreath to shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lassie's scornfu' e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh, I canna bide the frown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' Ann o' Cornylee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_106" id="vol6Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae gilded ha', nae downie bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lowly lot maun cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sheilin' on the banks o' Gryfe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a' my worldly gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lanely cot, wi' moss o'ergrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a' I ha'e to gie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A leal heart, sinking 'neath the scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' Ann o' Cornylee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The linty 'mang the yellow broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laverock in the lift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ha'e never sang the waes o' love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' hope and joy bereft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor has the mavis ever sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ills I ha'e to dree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lovin' o' a paughty maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Ann o' Cornylee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_MARY_DEAR10" id="vol6MY_MARY_DEAR10"></a>MY MARY DEAR.<a name="vol6FNanchor_10_10" id="vol6FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Annie Laurie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gloamin' star was showerin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its siller glories doun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nestled in its mossy lair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lintie sleepit soun';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lintie sleepit soun',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the starnies sparklet clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on a gowany bank I sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aside my Mary dear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_107" id="vol6Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The burnie wanders eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roun' rock and ruin'd tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By mony a fairy hillock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a lanely bower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roun' mony a lanely bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's tender tale to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I in whisper'd vows ha'e woo'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And won my Mary dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hallow'd hours o' happiness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae me for ever ta'en!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' summer's flowery loveliness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye come na back again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye come na back again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waefu' heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lang the greedy grave has closed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aboon my Mary dear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WAES_O_EILD" id="vol6THE_WAES_O_EILD"></a>THE WAES O' EILD.</h3> + +<p class='center'>(<i>For an old Gaelic air.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cranreuch 's on my heid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist 's now on my een,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lanesome life I lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm no what I ha'e been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ther 're runkles on my broo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ther 're furrows on my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wither'd heart fills fu'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan o' bygane days I speak.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_108" id="vol6Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +<span class="i4">For I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary o' care—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whare my bairnies ha'e gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, let me gang there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ance was fu' o' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wha was then sae gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan dreamin' life wad be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ae lang simmer day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My feet, like lichtnin', flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roun' pleasure's dizzy ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gimply staucher noo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aneath a feckless thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary o' care—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whare my first luve lies cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, let me lie there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ourie breath o' eild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has blown ilk frien' frae me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They comena near my beild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e dauted on my knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hand awa their heids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My frailties no to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My blessing on them, ane and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've naething else to gie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'm weary and worn—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the friens o' my youth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I maun soon, soon return.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_109" id="vol6Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_STUART_BLACKIE11" id="vol6JOHN_STUART_BLACKIE11"></a>JOHN STUART BLACKIE.<a name="vol6FNanchor_11_11" id="vol6FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h2> + +<p>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 <i>Annali del +Instituto Archæologico, Roma</i>, 1831.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_110" id="vol6Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> 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 <i>transposing</i>, but a +<i>re-casting</i>, 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 <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_111" id="vol6Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>regarding the witchcraft and astrology of the Middle Ages, +gathered with assiduous labour from the stores of the Advocates' +Library.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Foreign Quarterly Review</i>. He was +also a contributor to <i>Blackwood</i>, <i>Tait</i>, and the <i>Westminster Review</i>. +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 <i>Westminster</i>, +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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_112" id="vol6Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>Mr Blackie delivered public lectures on education in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_113" id="vol6Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> 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 <i>Foreign +Quarterly</i>, and two lectures "On the Studying and Teaching of +Languages."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Classical Museum</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>In 1852 he was elected to the chair of Greek in Edin<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_114" id="vol6Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>burgh 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 <i>brochure</i> 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 +<i>North British Review</i>.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>North British</i> on Modern Greek Literature, and in another in the +<i>Westminster</i> 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 <i>Blackwood</i> and the <i>North British</i>, +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 <i>North British</i>, of his friend +Bunsen's "Signs of the Times," and of Perthos'<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_115" id="vol6Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> Life. His articles more +especially relating to his own department are Æschylus and Homer, in the +<i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, an article on accents in the <i>Cambridge +Philological</i>, and an essay on Plato in the "Edinburgh Essays."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SONG_OF_BEN_CRUACHAN" id="vol6SONG_OF_BEN_CRUACHAN"></a>SONG OF BEN CRUACHAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ben Cruachan is king of the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gird in the lovely Loch Awe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loch Etive is fed from his fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With his peak so high<br /></span> +<span class="i6">He cleaves the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That smiles on his old gray crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While the mantle green,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On his shoulders seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In many a fold flows down.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_116" id="vol6Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He looks to the north, and he renders<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A greeting to Nevis Ben;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Nevis, in white snowy splendours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gives Cruachan greeting again.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er dread Glencoe<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The greeting doth go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where Etive winds fair in the glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And he hears the call<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In his steep north wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"God bless thee, old Cruachan Ben."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the north winds their forces muster,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ruin rides high on the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All calm, in the midst of their bluster,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stands with his forehead enorm.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When block on block,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With thundering shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes hurtled confusedly down,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No whit recks he,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But laughs to shake free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dust from his old gray crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And while torrents on torrents are pouring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down his sides with a wild, savage glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when louder the loud Awe is roaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the soft lake swells to a sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">He smiles through the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And his heart grows warm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he thinks how his streams feed the plains<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the brave old Ben<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Grows young again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And swells with his lusty veins.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_117" id="vol6Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For Cruachan is king of the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gird in the lovely Loch Awe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loch Etive is fed from his fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ere Adam was made<br /></span> +<span class="i6">He rear'd his head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sublime o'er the green winding glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And when flame wraps the sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er earth's ashes shall peer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peak of the old granite Ben.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_BRAES_OF_MAR" id="vol6THE_BRAES_OF_MAR"></a>THE BRAES OF MAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From you my feet must travel far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou high-peak'd steep-cliff'd Loch-na-Gar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell, farewell for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou lone green glen where I was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where free I stray'd in life's bright morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee my heart is rudely torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I shall see thee never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The braes of Mar with heather glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The healthful breezes o'er them blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gushing torrents from them flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That swell the rolling river.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong hills that nursed the brave and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On banks of clear, swift-rushing Dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My widow'd eyne no more shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your birchen bowers for ever!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_118" id="vol6Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell thou broad and bare Muicdhui<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye stout old pines of lone Glen Lui,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou forest wide of Ballochbuie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Farewell, farewell for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you the rich may stalk the deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt know the tread of prince and peer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh, the poor man's heart is drear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To part from you for ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May God forgive our haughty lords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom our fathers drew their swords;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tear for us their pride affords,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No bond of love they sever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From bleak Ben Aon to Loch-na-Gar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friendless poor is banished far<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From your green glens for ever!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_LOVES" id="vol6MY_LOVES"></a>MY LOVES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Name the leaves on all the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Name the waves on all the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Name the notes of all the groves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus thou namest all my loves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do love the dark, the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Golden ringlets, raven hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eye that swims in sunny light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glance that shoots like lightning bright.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_119" id="vol6Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do love the stately dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sportive girl the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every changeful phase between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooming cheek and brow serene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do love the young, the old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maiden modest, virgin bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tiny beauties, and the tall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth has room enough for all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which is better—who can say?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucy grave or Mary gay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who half her charms conceals?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who sparkles while she feels?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should I confine my love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature bids us freely rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath scatter'd wide the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blooms and beauties everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paris was a pedant fool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meting beauty by a rule:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pallas? Juno? Venus?—he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should have chosen all the three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am wise, life's every bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thankful tasting; and a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a sweet thing, I declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a dark maid or a fair.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_120" id="vol6Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LIKING_AND_LOVING" id="vol6LIKING_AND_LOVING"></a>LIKING AND LOVING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Liking is a little boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming of a sea employ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting by the stream, with joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Paper frigates sailing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love 's an earnest-hearted man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Champion of beauty's clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighting bravely in the van,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pushing and prevailing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Liking hovers round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Capers with a nimble bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plants his foot on easy ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the glass to view it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love shoots sudden glance for glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spurs the steed, and rests the lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a brisk and bold advance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sworn to die or do it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Liking 's ever on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From new blooms new sweets to bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nibbling aye, the nimble thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the hook is free still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love 's a tar of British blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let mad winds their maddest do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his haven carded true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I am to thee still.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_121" id="vol6Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_STIRLING_MP" id="vol6WILLIAM_STIRLING_MP"></a>WILLIAM STIRLING, M.P.</h2> + +<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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>brochure</i>. "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.</p> + +<p>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.,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_122" id="vol6Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6RUTH" id="vol6RUTH"></a>RUTH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The golden smile of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the hills of Moab play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When at the city's western gate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their steps three women stay'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One laden was with years and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gray and faded dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Judah's ancient lineage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Naomi her name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And two were daughters of the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Orpah and sweet Ruth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their faces wearing still the bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their eyes the light of youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all were childless widows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And garb'd in weeds of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their hearts were full of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fast their tears did flow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_123" id="vol6Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the Lord God from Naomi<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her spouse and sons had taken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she and these that were their wives,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are widow'd and forsaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish or hope her bosom knows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">None other but to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay her bones in Bethlehem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where all her kindred lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So gives she now upon the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Jordan's western waters<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her farewell kisses and her tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto her weeping daughters:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet daughters mine, now turn again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto your homes," she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And for the love ye bear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love ye bear the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord with you deal kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And give you joy and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And send to each a faithful mate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cheer her widow'd breast."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then long and loud their weeping was,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sore was their lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Orpah kiss'd sad Naomi,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And back to Moab went;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gentle Ruth to Naomi<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did cleave with close embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earnest spoke, with loving eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up-gazing in her face—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Entreat me not to leave thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sever from thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For where thou goest I will go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where thou bidest I will bide,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_124" id="vol6Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy people still my people,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy God my God shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where thou diest I will die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make my grave with thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Naomi, not loath, was won<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto her gentle will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence, with faces westward set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They fared o'er plain and hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord their staff, till Bethlehem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose fair upon their sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rock-built town with towery crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In evening's purple light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midst slopes in vine and olive clad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spread along the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White fields, with barley waving,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That woo'd the reaper's hook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now for the sunny harvest field<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Ruth her mother leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And goes a-gleaning after<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maids that bind the sheaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the great lord of the harvest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is of her husband's race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looks upon the lonely one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gentleness and grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he loves her for the brightness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And freshness of her youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for her unforgetting love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her firm enduring truth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love and truth that guided Ruth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The border mountains o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where her people and her own land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She left for evermore.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_125" id="vol6Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So he took her to his home and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And years of soft repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did recompense her patient faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her meekly-suffer'd woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she became the noblest dame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of palmy Palestine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stranger was the mother<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that grand and glorious line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence sprang our royal David,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the tide of generations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The anointed king of Israel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The terror of the nations:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whose pure seed hath God decreed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Messiah shall be born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the day-spring from on high shall light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The golden lands of morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then heathen tongues shall tell the tale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of tenderness and truth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the gentle deed of Boaz<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tender love of Ruth.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_126" id="vol6Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SHALLUM" id="vol6SHALLUM"></a>SHALLUM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who finds with his fathers the grave of his rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet slumber is his, who at night-fall hath thrown him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Near bosoms that waking did love him the best.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But sorely bewail him, the weary world-ranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ne'er to the home of his people return;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His weeping worn eyes must be closed by the stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No tear of true sorrow shall hallow his urn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And mourn for the monarch that went out of Zion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">King Shallum, the son of Josiah the Just;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he the cold bed of the captive shall die on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afar from his land, nor return to its dust.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_127" id="vol6Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6THOMAS_C_LATTO" id="vol6THOMAS_C_LATTO"></a>THOMAS C. LATTO.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Blackwood's</i> and <i>Tait's Magazines</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_128" id="vol6Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_KISS_AHINT_THE_DOOR" id="vol6THE_KISS_AHINT_THE_DOOR"></a>THE KISS AHINT THE DOOR.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"There 's nae Luck about the House."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whiles mair than in a score;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wae betak' the stouin smack<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I took ahint the door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O laddie, whisht! for sic a fricht<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ne'er was in afore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fou brawly did my mither hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The kiss ahint the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wa's are thick—ye needna fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, gin they jeer and mock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll swear it was a startit cork,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wyte the rusty lock.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There 's meikle bliss, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We stappit ben, while Maggie's face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was like a lowin' coal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' as for me, I could hae crept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a mouse's hole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mither look't—saffs how she look't!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thae mithers are a bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gleg as ony cat to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kiss ahint the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their 's meikle bliss, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The douce gudeman, tho' he was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As weel micht been in Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For by the fire he puff'd his pipe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' never fash'd his thumb;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_129" id="vol6Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But, titterin' in a corner, stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gawky sisters four—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winter's nicht for me they micht<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hae stood ahint the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There 's meikle bliss, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How daur ye tak' sic freedoms here?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bauld gudewife began;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' that a foursome yell got up—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I to my heels and ran.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A besom whiskit by my lug,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' dishclouts half-a-score:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catch me again, tho' fidgin' fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At kissin 'hint the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There 's meikle bliss, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WIDOWS_AE_BIT_LASSIE" id="vol6THE_WIDOWS_AE_BIT_LASSIE"></a>THE WIDOW'S AE BIT LASSIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"My only Jo and Dearie, O!"</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Kenly banks sae grassy, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha cam' to bless my waitin' een?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She brak' my gloamin' dream sae sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just whaur the wimplin' burnies meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smother'd laugh—I flew to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They glintit slee—the moon and she—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On tremblin' stream an' tremblin' me:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is a dear wee lassie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_130" id="vol6Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">How rapture's pulse was beating fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Mary to my heart I claspt!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bliss divine—owre sweet to last—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've kiss'd the dear bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She nestled close, like croodlin' doo—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cheek to hers, syne mou' to mou'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto my breast again, again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I prest her guileless heart sae fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae blest were baith—now she 's my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye powers aboon, wha made her mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart wad break gin I should tyne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearth shall glad the angels' sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lamp o' love shall lowe sae bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me and her, my soul's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow's ae bit lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_YELLOW-HAIRED_LADDIE" id="vol6THE_YELLOW-HAIRED_LADDIE"></a>THE YELLOW-HAIRED LADDIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clansmen are arming to rush on the foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay banners are streaming as forth pours the clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow-haired laddie is first in the van.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pibroch is kindling each heart to the war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Cameron's slogan is heard from afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They close for the struggle where many shall fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the yellow-haired laddie is foremost of all.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_131" id="vol6Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He towers like a wave in the fierce rolling tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No kinsman of Evan's may stand by his side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Camerons gather around him alone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heeds not the danger, and fear is unknown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The plumes of his bonnet are seen through the fight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beacon for valour, which fires at the sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he sees not yon claymore—ah! traitorous thrust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plumes and the bonnet are laid in the dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clansmen approach—they have vanquish'd the foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sudden the cheeks of the maidens are pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sound of the coronach comes on the gale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens are weeping in rocky Glencoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From warriors' eyelids the bitter drops flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They come—but, oh! where is their chieftain so dear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow-haired laddie is low on the bier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maidens are wailing in rocky Glencoe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's gloom in the valley, at sunrise 'twill go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no sun can the gloom from their hearts chase away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow-haired laddie lies cauld in the clay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6TELL_ME_DEAR" id="vol6TELL_ME_DEAR"></a>TELL ME, DEAR.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Loudon's bonnie Woods and Braes."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me dear! in mercy speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has Heaven heard my prayer, lassie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint the rose is on thy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But still the rose is there, lassie!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_132" id="vol6Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Away, away each dark foreboding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy days with anguish clouding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youthfu' love in sorrow shrouding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven could ne'er allow, lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day and night I've tended thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching, love, thy changing e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dearest gift that Heaven could gi'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say thou 'rt happy now, lassie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Willie, lay thy cheek to mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kiss me, oh! my ain laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never mair may lip o' thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Press where it hath lain, laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! I hear the angels calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavenly strains are round me falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the stroke—thy soul appalling—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis my only pain, laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the love I bear to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall follow where I soon maun be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll tell how gude thou wert to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We part to meet again, laddie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lay thine arm beneath my head—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grieve na sae for me, laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll thole the doom that lays me dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But no a tear frae thee, laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft where yon dark tree is spreading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sun's last beam is shedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no earthly foot is treading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By my grave thou 'lt be, laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my sleep be wi' the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae on high my soul shall speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hover nightly round thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although thou wilt na see, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_133" id="vol6Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_CADENHEAD" id="vol6WILLIAM_CADENHEAD"></a>WILLIAM CADENHEAD.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Minstrel</i> 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 <i>Aberdeen Herald</i>. 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_134" id="vol6Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6DO_YOU_KNOW_WHAT_THE_BIRDS_ARE_SINGING" id="vol6DO_YOU_KNOW_WHAT_THE_BIRDS_ARE_SINGING"></a>DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE BIRDS ARE SINGING?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you know what the birds are singing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can you tell their sweet refrains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the green arch'd woods are ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a thousand swelling strains?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sad they sing of sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the blythe, of mirth and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to me, in my fond love's gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They sing alone of thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sing alone of thee, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thee, through the whole day long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each its own dear charm extols,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And each with its own sweet song!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you know what the soft winds whisper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they sigh through blooming trees—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When each bough is a choral lisper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the woodland melodies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some they seem to be grieving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the summer's short-lived glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to me they are always weaving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet songs in praise of thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet songs in praise of thee, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And telling the flowers below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far thy charms outshine them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though brightly their soft leaves glow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you know what the streamlet trilleth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it glides or leaps along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the cool green nook it filleth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the gushes of its song?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_135" id="vol6Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Do you think it sings its dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its distant home, the sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, no, but the voice of its streaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is still of thee, of thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is still of thee, of thee, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till echoes and woodland fays—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, Nature all is eloquent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And vocal in thy praise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_OLD_LOVE" id="vol6AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_OLD_LOVE"></a>AN HOUR WITH AN OLD LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I 've look'd in days gane by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you gae me kiss for kiss, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And answer'd sigh for sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in our youth's first flame, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although poor and lane together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had wealth in our ain love, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And were a' to ane anither!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, blessin's on thy lips, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They ance were dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the honey-savour'd blossoms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the nectar-hunting bee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It kens whar dwalls the banquets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' the sweetest dewy wine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the chosen flower to it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae were thy lips to mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thy very thochts, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in thy clear blue e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ye 'll see the silver fishes flash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When ye sail the midnicht sea;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_136" id="vol6Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And ye needna close the lids, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the thochts they are nae mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I see there 's nae repentant ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That they ance were sae langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lat me hear thy voice, Jeanie—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ay, that 's the very chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whase silver echoes haunted me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through a' my youthfu' prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak on! thy gentle words, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awake a blessed train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of memories that I thocht had slept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To never wake again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God's blessin's on your heart, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your face sae angel fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the ane be never pierced wi' grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the ither blanch'd wi' care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he wha has your love, Jeanie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May he be dear to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I may aiblins ance have been—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as thou 'rt still to me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_137" id="vol6Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ALLAN_GIBSON" id="vol6ALLAN_GIBSON"></a>ALLAN GIBSON.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_138" id="vol6Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_LANE_AULD_MAN" id="vol6THE_LANE_AULD_MAN"></a>THE LANE AULD MAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sorrowfu' sat by the ingle cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hearth was cauld to his weary feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' were gane, an' nae mair would meet<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By the side o' the lane auld man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To the wreck o' his hopes fond memory clung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When flowers o' his heart on his hearthstane sprung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But death's cauld hand had cruelly wrung<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The heart o' the lane auld man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A leafless tree in life's wintry blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stood alane o' his kin the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ane by ane frae his side they pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' left him a lane auld man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His bonnie bairns, o' his heart the prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' their bounding step and sunny eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae left his hearth for hame in the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Alack for the lane auld man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weel lo'ed form o' his ain auld wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha sooth'd the cares o' a lang bleak life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has gane to rest wi' her weans frae strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' heeds na her lane auld man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Owre the turf on their breast he lo'ed to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sair he lang'd wi' the lost to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death did close, in his ain calm sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The een o' the lane auld man.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_139" id="vol6Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whar yew-trees bend owre the dark kirk-yard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' gowans peep frae the lang green-sward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moss-clad stanes o' the cauld grave guard<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The last o' the lane auld man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WANDERERS_RETURN" id="vol6THE_WANDERERS_RETURN"></a>THE WANDERER'S RETURN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shadows of glory the twilight is parting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day-star is seeking its home in the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The herd from the field to the fold is departing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As, Lochwinnoch, sad on thy summits I rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far o'er the scene, while the evening is veiling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy waters that spread their still breast on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his broad truant wing the lone heron is sailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rest with his mate by the rock on the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, houseless and homeless, around thee I wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faces are gone I have panted to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold is the hearth to the feet of the stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which once had a seat in its circle for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here youth's golden hours of my being were number'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When joy in my bosom was breathing its lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If care on the light of my happiness linger'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope hasted the heartless intruder away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sweetly the brow of the beaming-eyed future<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was smiling my welcome to life's rosy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly I sigh'd in her Eden to meet her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bask in the bowers where her happiness lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fancy on light airy pinion was mounting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I strain'd my young vision in rapture to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land of my dreams, with its love-mirror'd fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And breath'd in the balm of the south's sunny sea.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_140" id="vol6Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, far on the track of ambition, I follow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The footsteps of fortune through perilous climes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trod the bright scenes which my childhood had hallow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But found not the charms which fond fancy enshrines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gold I have won, can it purchase the treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of hearts' warm affections left bleeding behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restore me the ties which are parted for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gild the dark gloom of my desolate mind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gold I have won! but, unblest and beguiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It came like the sun when unclouded and gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its light on the cold face of winter is smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But cheers not the earth with the warmth of its ray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again fare-thee-well, for the heart-broken rover<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now bids thee a long and a lasting adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet o'er thee the dreams of my spirit will hover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And burn as it broods on life's dismal review.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_141" id="vol6Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6THOMAS_ELLIOTT" id="vol6THOMAS_ELLIOTT"></a>THOMAS ELLIOTT.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_142" id="vol6Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6UP_WITH_THE_DAWN" id="vol6UP_WITH_THE_DAWN"></a>UP WITH THE DAWN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up with the dawn, ye sons of toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bare the brawny arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drive the harness'd team afield,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And till the fruitful farm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dig the mine for hidden wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or make the woods to ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With swinging axe and sturdy stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fell the forest king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With ocean car and iron steed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Traverse the land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spread our commerce round the globe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As winds that wander free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subdue the earth, and conquer fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outspeed the flight of time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old earth is rich, and man is young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor near his jocund prime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Work, and the clouds of care will fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale want will pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work, and the leprosy of crime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tyrants must decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the dead ages in their urns;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The present time be ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grapple bravely with our lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And strew our path with flowers.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_143" id="vol6Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6CLYDE_BOAT_SONG" id="vol6CLYDE_BOAT_SONG"></a>CLYDE BOAT SONG.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by A. Hume.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave the city's busy throng—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dip the oar, and wake the song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on Cathkin Braes the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rises with a star aboon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the boom of evening bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembles through the dewy dells.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row, lads, row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the golden eventide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lingers o'er the vale of Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row, lads, row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the tide, up the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life 's a river, deep and old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stemm'd by rowers, brave and bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in shadow, then in light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward aye, a thing of might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of Albyn's ancient land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Row with strong and steady hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row, lads, row;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gaily row, and cheery sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the woodland echoes ring;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row lads, row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the tide, up the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hammers on the anvil rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dews upon the gowan's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young hearts heave with tender thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low winds sigh, with odours fraught,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_144" id="vol6Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Stars bedeck the blue above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth is full of joy and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row, lads, row;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let your oars in concert beat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Merry time, like dancers' feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row; row, lads, row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the tide, down the Clyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Row, lads, row.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6DIMPLES_AND_A" id="vol6DIMPLES_AND_A"></a>DIMPLES AND A'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love a sweet lassie, mair gentle and true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ony young, wood-loving, wild cushie doo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks they are dimpled, her jimp waist is sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She says she 's my ain lassie, dimples and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dimples and a', dimples and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bonnie wee lass wi' her dimples and a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her brown wavy hair has a dark gowden tinge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bonnie black e'e has a long jetty fringe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her footstep is light as the thistle doun's fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wee hand is lily-white, dimpled and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dimpled and a', dimpled and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I ken it 's my ain hand, dimples and a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll wed my dear lassie, and gie her my name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll get a bit housie, and bring my love hame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When winter is eerie, and stormy winds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll mak' me fu' cheerie wi' dimples and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dimples and a', dimples and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain bonnie wifie, wi' her dimples and a'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_145" id="vol6Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the day's wark is done, and stars blink above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll rest in her smile, and be bless'd wi' her love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll sing a' the cares o' this world awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frae our cosie ingle, wi' dimples and a'.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dimples and a', dimples and a'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our ain cosie ingle, wi' dimples and a'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6BUBBLES_ON_THE_BLAST" id="vol6BUBBLES_ON_THE_BLAST"></a>BUBBLES ON THE BLAST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wee bit laddie sits wi' a bowl upon his knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from a cutty pipe 's puffing bubbles on the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, meikle is the mirth of the weans on our stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the bubbles sail like balloons alang the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some burst before they rise, others mount the gentle wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the little band in their dizzy joy behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such are human pomp and ambition at the last—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wonder of an hour, like thae bubbles on the blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How breathless is the watch of that merry little throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark the shining globes as they float in pride along!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus life's bubbles come, ever flashing from afar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now a revolution, and again a woeful war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hero or a bard, in their glory or their might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnie bird of song, or a nightingale of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or yellow golden age, with its speculations vast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All wonders of an hour, like the bubbles on the blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shout on, ye little folk, for your sport is quite as sage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that of older men, e'en the leaders of the age;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_146" id="vol6Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This world 's a sapple bowl, and our life a pipe of clay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its brightest dreams and hopes are but bubbles blown away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've had our bubbles too; some were dear and tender things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That left us sad and lone as they fled on rapid wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And others yet may rise from the future, like the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wonder of an hour, as the bubbles on the blast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_SERENADE" id="vol6A_SERENADE"></a>A SERENADE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shadows of evening fall silent around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose with a cor'net of dewdrops is crown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While weary I wander in sorrow's eclipse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With your love at my heart, your name on my lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your name on my lips, like a melody rare—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come, for I 'm lonely in shady Kenmair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The birds by the river sing plaintive and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seem to be breathing a burden of woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seem to be asking, why am I alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why do you tarry, or where are you gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers are sighing sweet breath on the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stars watch thy coming to shady Kenmair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gush of the fountain, the roll of the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recall your sweet image again to my side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your low mellow voice, like the tones of a flute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your slight yielding form, and small fairy foot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your neck like the marble, dark flowing your hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brow like the snowdrop of shady Kenmair.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_147" id="vol6Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come love, to the bank where the violets blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the calm waters that slumber below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the brier and beech, the hazel and broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fling down from their branches a flood of perfume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what is the world, with its splendours or care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you are beside me in shady Kenmair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_SONG_OF_LITTLE_THINGS" id="vol6A_SONG_OF_LITTLE_THINGS"></a>A SONG OF LITTLE THINGS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm a very little man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I earn a little wage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I have a little wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a little hermitage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up a quiet little stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the creeping ivy clings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a mansion near the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my home of little things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've two bonnie little bairns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full of prattle and of glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our little dwelling rings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their laughter, wild and free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the greenwoods, all the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've a little bird that sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It reminds me of my youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the age of little things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've no money in the funds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no steamers on the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my busy little hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are a treasure unto me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_148" id="vol6Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I can work, and I can sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a joy unknown to kings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While peace and plenty smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On my bonnie little things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when my work is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my cosie ingle nook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my little ones around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can read a little book.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I thank my lucky stars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For whatever fortune brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm richer than a lord—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm content with little things.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_AIN_MOUNTAIN_LAND" id="vol6MY_AIN_MOUNTAIN_LAND"></a>MY AIN MOUNTAIN LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! wae 's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It tint me my love, and it wiled me frae hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne dwindled awa' like a neivefu' o' sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me to mourn for my ain mountain land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I long for the glens, and the brown heather fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green birken shades, where the wild lintie dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dash o' the deep, on the gray rocky strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gird the blue hills o' my ain mountain land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dream o' the dells where the clear burnies flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie green knowes where the wee gowans grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I wake frae my sleep like a being that 's bann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shed a saut tear for my ain mountain land.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_149" id="vol6Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ken there 's a lass that looks out on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' tears in the een that are watchin' for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang, lang she may wait for the clasp o' my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the fa' o' my foot in my ain mountain land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6WHEN_I_COME_HAME_AT_EEN" id="vol6WHEN_I_COME_HAME_AT_EEN"></a>WHEN I COME HAME AT E'EN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give me the hour when bells are rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dinsome wheels are still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When engines rest, and toilers leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The workshop, forge, and mill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smiling lip, and gladsome e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My gudewife welcomes me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our bairnies clap their wee white hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And speel upon my knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How dear to me the bairnies' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our lowly bield is neat and clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bright the ingle's glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The table 's spread with halesome fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The teapot simmers low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet to toil for joys like these<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With strong and eydent hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To nurture noble hearts to love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guard our fatherland.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_150" id="vol6Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let revellers sing of wassail bowls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wines and barley bree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ain wee house and winsome wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are dearer far to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crack with her of joys to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of days departed long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she was like a wee wild rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I a bird of song.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How dear to me these memories<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When I come hame at e'en.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_151" id="vol6Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_LOGAN" id="vol6WILLIAM_LOGAN"></a>WILLIAM LOGAN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6JEANIE_GOW" id="vol6JEANIE_GOW"></a>JEANIE GOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye hameless glens and waving woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Garnock winds alang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How aft, in youth's unclouded morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your wilds I 've roved amang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There ha'e I heard the wanton birds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing blythe on every bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There first I met, and woo'd the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' bonnie Jeanie Gow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Jeanie then was fair and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bloom'd as sweet a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever deck'd the garden gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or lonely wild wood bower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warbling lark at early dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lamb on mountain brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had ne'er a purer, lighter heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than bonnie Jeanie Gow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_152" id="vol6Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her faither's lowly, clay-built cot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose by Glengarnock side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jeanie was his only stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His darling and his pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft ha'e I left the dinsome town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To which I ne'er could bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stray'd amang the ferny knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' bonnie Jeanie Gow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, ah! these fondly treasured joys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were soon wi' gloom o'ercast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jeanie dear was torn awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By death's untimely blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye woods, ye wilds, and warbling birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye canna cheer me now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' a' my glee and cherish'd hopes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e gane wi' Jeanie Gow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_153" id="vol6Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_LITTLE" id="vol6JAMES_LITTLE"></a>JAMES LITTLE.</h2> + +<p>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_154" id="vol6Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OUR_NATIVE_HILLS_AGAIN" id="vol6OUR_NATIVE_HILLS_AGAIN"></a>OUR NATIVE HILLS AGAIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, swiftly bounds our gallant bark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the ocean drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While manly cheeks are pale wi' grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wet wi' sorrow's tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers that spring upon the Clyde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will bloom for us in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae mair wi' lightsome step we 'll climb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our native hills again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amang their glens our fathers sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where mony a thistle waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roses fair and gowans meek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bloom owre their lowly graves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we maun dree a sadder fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far owre the stormy main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lang may look, but never see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our native hills again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, 'mid the forests o' the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When starnies light the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll gather round the ingle's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sing o' days gane by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sunny blinks o' joy will come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soothe us when alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aft, in nightly dreams, we'll climb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our native hills again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_155" id="vol6Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6HERE_S_A_HEALTH_TO_SCOTIAS_SHORE" id="vol6HERE_S_A_HEALTH_TO_SCOTIAS_SHORE"></a>HERE 'S A HEALTH TO SCOTIA'S SHORE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Music by Alexander Hume.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing not to me of sunny shores<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or verdant climes where olives bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, still and calm, the river pours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its flood, 'mid groves of rich perfume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the land where torrents flash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where loud the angry cat'racts roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wildly on their course they dash—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then here's a health to Scotia's shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing not to me of sunny isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though there eternal summers reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where many a dark-eyed maiden smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gaudy flow'rets deck the plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the land of mountains steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where wild and free the eagles soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dizzy crags, where tempests sweep—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then here's a health to Scotia's shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing not to me of sunny lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there full often tyrants sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who climb to power with blood-stain'd hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While crouching, trembling slaves obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the land unconquer'd still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though often tried in days of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where freedom reigns from plain to hill—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then here's a health to Scotia's shore.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_156" id="vol6Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_DAYS_WHEN_WE_WERE_YOUNG" id="vol6THE_DAYS_WHEN_WE_WERE_YOUNG"></a>THE DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The happy days of yore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will they ever come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shed a gleam of joy on us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And win the heart from pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or will they only come in dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nicht's black curtain 's hung?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet even then 'tis sweet to mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The days when we were young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fond mem'ry, wi' its mystic power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brings early scenes to view—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again we roam among the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae wat wi' morning dew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again we climb the broomy knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sing wi' prattlin' tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we had nae cares to fash us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the days when we were young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How aft, when we were callants,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hae we sought the ocean's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And launch'd wi' glee our tiny boats,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heard the billows roar?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aft amang the glancin' waves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In daring sport we 've sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swam till we were wearied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the days when we were young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In winter, round the ingle side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 've read wi' kindling e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Wallace Wight, and Bruce the Bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aft made the southrons flee;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_157" id="vol6Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or listen'd to some bonnie sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By bonnie lassie sung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! love and happiness were ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In days when we were young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! his maun be a waefu' heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That has nae sunny gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of by-gane joys in early days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though it be but in dreams:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha thinks nae o' his mither's arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae aft around him flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shield him safe frae earthly harms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In days when he was young:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha thinks nae o' his sisters fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That toddled out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ran about the braes wi' him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And play'd wi' meikle din;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his maun be a barren heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where love has never sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha thinks nae o' the days gane by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The days when he was young.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_158" id="vol6Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LIZZIE_FREW" id="vol6LIZZIE_FREW"></a>LIZZIE FREW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a balmy summer gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the sun had gane to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his gowden beams were glintin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Owre the hills far in the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And upon the snawy gowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saftly fell the pearly dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I met my heart's best treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gentle, winsome Lizzy Frew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Light she tripp'd amang the bracken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While her glossy waving hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Play'd around her gentle bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dancing in the summer air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love laugh'd in her een sae paukie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiles play'd round her rosy mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart was led a captive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the charms o' Lizzie Frew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thochts o' her can mak' me cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I toil the lee-lang day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at nicht, though e'er sae wearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gladly out wi' her I stray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask nae for a greater pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than to ken her heart is true—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask nae for a greater treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than my gentle Lizzie Frew.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_159" id="vol6Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6COLIN_RAE_BROWN" id="vol6COLIN_RAE_BROWN"></a>COLIN RAE BROWN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>North British Daily Mail</i>, he accepted +an offer by the proprietor to become the publisher of that newspaper. +When the <i>Mail</i> 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 <i>Bulletin</i> +and <i>Workman</i>, a daily and a weekly newspaper, both published in +Glasgow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_160" id="vol6Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6CHARLIE_S_COMIN" id="vol6CHARLIE_S_COMIN"></a>CHARLIE 'S COMIN'.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon, he 'll set the country free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those that bear the rule and gree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bonnie Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gentle breezes, softly blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We burn until we meet the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strike the bold decisive blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For king and Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noble hearts are beating high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All will fight, none basely fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if they conquer not, they 'll die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ancient Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, that Charlie were but here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The base usurper then might fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As loud the din fell on his ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of joy in Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heard ye not that distant hum?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the pipe, and now the drum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaim the news that Charlie 's come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gladden Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tyrants, tremble, Charlie 's here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, indeed, ye 've cause to fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hielan' hearts be of good cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on for Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_161" id="vol6Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WIDOWS_DAUGHTER" id="vol6THE_WIDOWS_DAUGHTER"></a>THE WIDOW'S DAUGHTER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why gaze on that pale face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childless one, childless one?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why seek this lonely place?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She hath gone, she hath gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy daughter is not here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Widow'd one, widow'd one—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, wipe away that tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She hath won, she hath won!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her home is far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's at rest, she 's at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In everlasting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the blest, with the blest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No pains, no sorrows there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All are past, all are past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sigh summ'd up her care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas her last, 'twas her last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not her there you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sister dear, sister dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That earth holds nought for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Draw not near, draw not near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The place is cold and dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haste away, haste away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corruption is at work—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soulless clay! soulless clay!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_162" id="vol6Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lamp hath ceased to burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quench'd the flame, quench'd the flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let dust to dust return,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence it came, whence it came.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To thy chamber, sister dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There to God, there to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bend humble and sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath His rod, 'neath His rod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prayer heals the broken heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is kind, He is kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each bruised and bleeding part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He will bind, He will bind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not for her that 's gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time will fly, time will fly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt meet thy cherish'd one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Yond the sky! 'yond the sky!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_163" id="vol6Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ROBERT_LEIGHTON" id="vol6ROBERT_LEIGHTON"></a>ROBERT LEIGHTON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_MUCKLE_MEAL_POCK" id="vol6MY_MUCKLE_MEAL_POCK"></a>MY MUCKLE MEAL POCK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's some can be happy and bide whar they are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's ithers ne'er happy unless they gang far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aft do I think I 'm an easy auld stock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I 'm joggin' about wi' my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though noo I be auld, abune four score and aucht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my pow it be bauld and my craig be na straucht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet frae mornin' till e'en—aye as steady 's a rock—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gang joggin' about wi' my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just our ain parish roond, and nae mair I gang through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when at the end I begin it anew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There isna' a door but wad blythely unlock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To welcome me ben wi' my muckle meal pock.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_164" id="vol6Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There isna' a hoose but I micht mak' my hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There isna' an auld wife wad think me to blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I open'd the door without gieing a knock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cam' ben to the fire wi' my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As ony newspaper they say I 'm as gweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And better, say some, for they hinna to read;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lads and the lasses around me a' flock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there 's no ane forgets that I hae a meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gudeman he speaks about corn and lan',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hoo 's the markets," says he, "are they risen or fa'en?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is this snawie weather the roads like to chock?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the gudewife aye spiers for my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To be usefu' to her I haud sticks on the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whan to the milkin' she gangs to the byre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 'll gie me a hand o' the cradle to rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for that she 's aye gude to my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though my friends a' be gane whar I yet hae to gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o' followin' them noo I canna be lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet while I am here I will lauch and I 'll joke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I 'll aye find a friend in my muckle meal pock.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_165" id="vol6Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_HENDERSON" id="vol6JAMES_HENDERSON"></a>JAMES HENDERSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WANDERERS_DEATHBED" id="vol6THE_WANDERERS_DEATHBED"></a>THE WANDERER'S DEATHBED.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afar from the home where his youthful prime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his happy hours were pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the distant shore of a foreign clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wanderer breathed his last.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_166" id="vol6Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And they dug his grave where the wild flowers wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the brooklet's glassy brim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the song-bird there wakes its morning prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dirge of its evening hymn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He left the land of his childhood fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With hope in his glowing breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With visions bright as the summer's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dreams by his fancy blest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But death look'd down with a chilling frown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he stood on that distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he leant his head on the stranger's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the last sad pang was o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange faces, fill'd with a soulless look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the wanderer's deathbed hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the words were cold as the wintry wold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fell from each heedless tongue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mournful sigh, nor tearful eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The solace of pity gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the moments pass'd till he breathed his last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sleep in the silent grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afar from the home where his youthful prime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his happy hours were pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the distant shore of a foreign clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wanderer breathed his last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they dug his grave where the wild flowers wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the brooklet's glassy brim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the song-bird there wakes its morning prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dirge of its evening hymn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_167" id="vol6Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_SONG_OF_TIME" id="vol6THE_SONG_OF_TIME"></a>THE SONG OF TIME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fleet along, and the empires fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the nations pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like visions bright of the dreamy night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That die with the dawning day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lordly tower, and the battled wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hall, and the holy fane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ruin lie while I wander by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor rise from their wreck again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I light the rays of the orient blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glow of the radiant noon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wing my flight with the sapphire night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glide with the gentle moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earth I roam, and the bright expanse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the proud bark bounds away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I join the stars in their choral dance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round the golden orb of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fleet along, and the empires fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the nations pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like visions bright of the dreamy night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That die with the dawning day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sceptre sinks in the regal hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still'd is the monarch's tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty stoop as the meanest droop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sleep with the nameless dead.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_168" id="vol6Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS" id="vol6THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS"></a>THE HIGHLAND HILLS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Highland hills! there are songs of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy, and love on the gladsome earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Spring, in her queenly robes, hath smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the forest glade and the woodland wild.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come with me from the haunts of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the glassy lake in the mountain glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sunshine sleeps on the dancing rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That chainless leap from the Highland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Highland hills! when the sparkling rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the silver dews greet the orient blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When noon comes forth with her gorgeous glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the fountains leap and the rivers flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt roam with me where the waterfalls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid echo wake in the rocky halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the grandeur wild to thy heart instils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deep delight 'mid the Highland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Highland hills! when the noonday smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the slumbering lakes and their fairy isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 'll clamber high where the heather waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the warrior's cairn and the foemen's graves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I 'll sing to thee, in "the bright day's prime,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the days of old and of ancient time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy heart, unknown to the care that chills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gladly joy in the Highland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Highland hills! in the twilight dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their heath-clad crests shall thy footsteps climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there shalt thou gaze o'er the ocean far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the beacon blaze of the evening star,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_169" id="vol6Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the lamp of night, with its virgin beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down on the deep and the shining streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till beauty's spell on thy spirit thrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy and love in the Highland hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND"></a>MY NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sublime is Scotia's mountain land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And beautiful and wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By tyranny's unhallow'd hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unsullied, undefiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The free and fearless are her sons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The good and brave her sires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! her every spirit glows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With freedom's festal fires!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When dark oppression far and wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its gory deluge spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While nations, ere they pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hope and vengeance bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She from her rocky bulwarks high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The banner'd eagle hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trampled on triumphant Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The empress of the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gave the Danish wolf a grave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in her darkest glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chased the vaunting Norman hound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back to his lowland dens;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_170" id="vol6Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And though the craven Saxon strove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her regal lord to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hills were homes to nurse the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fetterless, and free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace to the spirits of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The noble, and the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace to the mighty who have bled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our Fatherland to save!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We revel in the pure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of deeds achieved by them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crown their worth and valour bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With glory's diadem.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_171" id="vol6Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_MACLARDY" id="vol6JAMES_MACLARDY"></a>JAMES MACLARDY.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_172" id="vol6Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_SUNNY_DAYS_ARE_COME_MY_LOVE" id="vol6THE_SUNNY_DAYS_ARE_COME_MY_LOVE"></a>THE SUNNY DAYS ARE COME, MY LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunny days are come, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gowan 's on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fragrant flow'rs wi' hiney'd lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invite the early bee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scented winds are whisp'ring by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lav'rock 's on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lintie on the dewy spray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gars glen and woodland ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunny days are come, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The primrose decks the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vi'let in its rainbow robe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bends to the noontide ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cuckoo in her trackless bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has waken'd from her dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadows o' the new-born leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are waving in the stream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunny days are come, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The swallow skims the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er its glassy bosom clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The insect cloudlets shake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart of nature throbs with joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At love and beauty's sway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meanest creeping thing of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shares in her ecstasy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come wi' me my bonny Bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rove Gleniffer o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye shall lend a brighter tint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sunshine and to flower;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_173" id="vol6Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And ye shall tell the heart ye 've won<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A blessing or a wae—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake a summer in my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or bid hope's flowers decay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For spring may spread her mantle green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mountain, dell, and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer burst in every hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' smiles and melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me the sun were beamless, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scentless ilka flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ye were no this heart's bright sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its music and its bower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OH_MY_LOVE_WAS_FAIR" id="vol6OH_MY_LOVE_WAS_FAIR"></a>OH, MY LOVE WAS FAIR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was fair as the siller clud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sleeps in the smile o' dawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' her een were bricht as the crystal bells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spangle the blossom'd lawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' warm as the sun was her kind, kind heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glow'd 'neath a faemy sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I fear'd, by the tones o' her sweet, sweet voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That my love was nae for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was gay as the summer time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the earth is bricht an' gled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fresh as the spring when the young buds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their sparkling pearl-draps cled:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_174" id="vol6Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' her hair was like chains o' the sunset sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hangs 'tween the lift an' sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I fear'd, by the licht that halo'd her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That my love was nae for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was sweet as the violet flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That waves by the moss-grown stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' her lips were rich as the rowans red<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hang in forest lane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' her broo was a dreamy hill o' licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That struck ane dumb to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I fear'd, by signs that canna be named,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That my love was nae for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was mild as the autumn gale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fans the temples o' toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the sweets o' a thousand summers cam'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her breath an' sunny smile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' spotless she gaed on the tainted earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' a mortal blemish free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my heart forgot, in its feast o' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That my love was nae for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was leal, an' my cup o' bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was reaming to the brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, ae gloaming chill, to her sacred bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cam' a grisly carl fu' grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha dash'd the cup frae my raptured lips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a wild, unearthly glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae the ghaistly thought was then confirm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That my love was nae for me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_175" id="vol6Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, my love was young, an' the grim auld carl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Held her fast in his cauld embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' suck'd the red frae her hiney'd mou',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the blush frae her peachy face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stifled the sound o' her charm'd throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' quench'd the fires o' her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fairer she blooms in her heavenly bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my love was nae for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae I tyned my love an' I tyned my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I tyned baith wealth an' fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne I turn'd a sad, weary minstrel wicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the cauld warld for my hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet my minstrelsy 's but a lanely lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My wealth my aumous fee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, wad that I were wi' the grim auld carl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this warld is nae for me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_176" id="vol6Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ANDREW_JAMES_SYMINGTON" id="vol6ANDREW_JAMES_SYMINGTON"></a>ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_177" id="vol6Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6DAY_DREAM" id="vol6DAY_DREAM"></a>DAY DREAM.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Close by the marge of Leman's lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a thymy plot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In blissful rev'rie, half awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth's follies all forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I conjured up a faery isle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sorrow enter'd not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withouten shade of sin or guile—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lovely Eden spot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With trellis'd vines, in cool arcade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leaves of tender green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All trembling in the light and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sunbeams glanced between:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mossy turf, bespangled gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fragrant flowery sheen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bell, primrose, pink, and showers of May—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fairest ever seen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Near where a crystal river ran<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the rich, warm light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A domèd palace fair began<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rise in marble white.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas fill'd, as if by amulet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With mirrors dazzling bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With antique vase and statuette,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A palace of delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And "Mignon" in a snow-white dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With circlet on her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear'd in all her loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like angel standing there.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_178" id="vol6Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She struck the cithern in her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sang with 'witching air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own sweet song, "Know'st thou the land?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To music wild and rare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It died away—the palace changed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dream-like, into a bower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around, the soft-eyed dun-deer ranged,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Secure from hunter's power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild thyme and eye-bright tinged the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With daisy, starry flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While crimson flower-bells cluster'd round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose-twined faery bower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Therein "Undine," lovely sprite!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sat gazing on sunrise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sang of "morning, clear and bright"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tears came in her eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd upon the lovely isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now up to the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in a silv'ry misty veil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She vanish'd from mine eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A music, as of forest trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bent 'neath the storm-blast's sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose swelling—dying in the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A strange, wild lullaby.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The islet with its flowery turf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then waxèd dim and gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd—no islet gemm'd the surf—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dream had fled away.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_179" id="vol6Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6FAIR_AS_A_STAR_OF_LIGHT" id="vol6FAIR_AS_A_STAR_OF_LIGHT"></a>FAIR AS A STAR OF LIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair as a star of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like diamond gleaming bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through darkness of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As bell of lily white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In streamlet mirror'd bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All quiv'ring with delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My love to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A flowing magic thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which floodeth heart and will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gushes musical,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as the trancèd dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which flitteth in a gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before morn's golden beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My love to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like living crystal well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cool and shady dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the parch'd gazelle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dearer than things fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">However rich and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earth, or sea, or air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my love to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My love to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_180" id="vol6Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6NATURE_MUSICAL" id="vol6NATURE_MUSICAL"></a>NATURE MUSICAL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is music in the storm, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the tempest rages high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It whispers in the summer breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A soft, sweet lullaby.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music in the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the joyous nightingale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear warbling, filleth with his song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hillside and the vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then sing, sing, sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For music breathes in everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is music by the shore, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When foaming billows dash;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It echoes in the thunder peal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When vivid lightnings flash.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music by the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the stilly noon of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the murmurs of the ocean fade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the clear moonlight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is music in the soul, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When it hears the gushing swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, like a dream intensely soft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peals from the lily-bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music—music deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the soul that looks on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When myriad sparkling stars sing out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their pure sphere harmony.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_181" id="vol6Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is music in the glance, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which speaketh from the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a sympathy in souls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That never more would part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music in the note<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the cooing turtle-dove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is music in the voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of dear ones whom we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is music everywhere, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the pure of spirit given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetest music heard on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But whispers that of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, all is music there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the language of the sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet hallelujahs there resound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternal harmony.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then sing, sing, sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For music breathes in everything.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_182" id="vol6Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ISABELLA_CRAIG" id="vol6ISABELLA_CRAIG"></a>ISABELLA CRAIG.</h2> + +<p>Isabella Craig is a native of Edinburgh, where she has continued to +reside. Her educational advantages were limited. To the columns of the +<i>Scotsman</i> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OUR_HELEN" id="vol6OUR_HELEN"></a>OUR HELEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is our Helen very fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If you only knew her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would doubt it not, howe'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stranger eyes may view her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We who see her day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through our household moving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether she be fair or nay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cannot see for loving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er our gentle Helen's face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No rich hues are bright'ning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no smiles of feignèd grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From her lips are light'ning;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_183" id="vol6Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She hath quiet, smiling eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair hair simply braided,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All as mild as evening skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere sunlight hath faded.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our kind, thoughtful Helen loves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our approving praises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her eye that never roves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrinks from other gazes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, so late within her home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a child caressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now a woman hath become,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ministering, blessing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All her duty, all her bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her home she findeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor too narrow deemeth this—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lowly things she mindeth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when deeper cares distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is our adviser;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason's rules she needeth less,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her heart is wiser.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the sorrows of the poor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her kind spirit bleedeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, because so good and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the erring pleadeth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is our Helen very fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If you only knew her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would doubt it not, howe'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stranger eyes may view her.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_184" id="vol6Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6GOING_OUT_AND_COMING_IN" id="vol6GOING_OUT_AND_COMING_IN"></a>GOING OUT AND COMING IN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In that home was joy and sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where an infant first drew breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While an aged sire was drawing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Near unto the gate of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His feeble pulse was failing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his eye was growing dim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was standing on the threshold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they brought the babe to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While to murmur forth a blessing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the little one he tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his trembling arms he raised it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Press'd it to his lips and died.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An awful darkness resteth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the path they both begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thus met upon the threshold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Going out and coming in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Going out unto the triumph,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coming in unto the fight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coming in unto the darkness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Going out unto the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although the shadow deepen'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the moment of eclipse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he pass'd through the dread portal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the blessing on his lips.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And to him who bravely conquers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he conquer'd in the strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is but the way of dying—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death is but the gate of life;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_185" id="vol6Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet awful darkness resteth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the path we all begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we meet upon the threshold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Going out and coming in.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_MARY_AN_ME" id="vol6MY_MARY_AN_ME"></a>MY MARY AN' ME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We loved our first love, an' our hearts never stray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I got my young lassie her first vow to gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We promised to wait for each ither a wee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mother was widow'd when we should hae wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the nicht when we stood roun' my father's death-bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He charged me a husband and father to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my young orphan sisters clung weepin' to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I kent nae, my Mary, what high heart was thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor how brightly thy love in a dark hour wad shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in doubt and in sorrow, ye whisper'd to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Win the blessing o' Heaven for thy Mary and thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' years hae flown by deeply laden wi' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Mary has help'd me their burden to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gave me my shield in misfortune and wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas she that aye bade me be steadfast and strong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her meek an' quiet spirit is aye smooth as now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her saft shinin' hair meekly shades her white brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few silver threads 'mang its dark faulds I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They tell me how lang she has waited on me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_186" id="vol6Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her cheek has grown paler, for she too maun toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sma' hands are thinner, less mirthfu' her smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She aft speaks o' heaven, and if she should dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tells me that there she 'll be waitin' on me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6A_SONG_OF_SUMMER" id="vol6A_SONG_OF_SUMMER"></a>A SONG OF SUMMER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will sing a song of summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bright summer as it dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid leaves and flowers and sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In lone haunts and grassy dells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the hill encircled valley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is like an emerald cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To its inmost depths all glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sunlight brimming up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here I 'd dream away the day time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let happy thoughts have birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forget there 's aught but glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught but beauty on the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not a speck of cloud is floating<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the deep blue overhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the trees the daisied verdure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a broider'd couch is spread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rustling leaves are dancing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the light wind's music stirr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in gushes through the stillness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes the song of woodland bird.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here I 'd dream away the day-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let gentlest thoughts have birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forget there 's aught but gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught but peace upon the earth.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_187" id="vol6Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ROBERT_DUTHIE" id="vol6ROBERT_DUTHIE"></a>ROBERT DUTHIE.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6SONG_OF_THE_OLD_ROVER" id="vol6SONG_OF_THE_OLD_ROVER"></a>SONG OF THE OLD ROVER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tempest around me is swelling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds have come forth from their ice-ribb'd caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the waves from their rocky dwelling;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But my trim-built bark<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er the waters dark<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bounds lightly along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mermaid lists to my echoing song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to lave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the briny spray of the wild sea wave!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_188" id="vol6Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the foaming deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the storm-bird above me is screaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While forth from the cloud where the thunders sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning is fearfully gleaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But onward I dash,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the fitful flash<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Illumes me along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thunders chorus my echoing song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dangers that frown on the wild sea wave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat where my well-served shot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lays the war-dogs bleeding around me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ne'er do I yield on the tentless field<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the wreath of the victor hath crown'd me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then I, a true child<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the ocean wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a tuneful tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear away with my prize and my conquering song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! shot and storm, let them rave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm at home, dashing on through the wild sea wave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on my ocean home—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The home of the hurrying billow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the time is at hand when no longer I 'll roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in peace lay me down on its pillow:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The petrel will scream<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My requiem hymn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the thunders prolong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep-chorus'd note of my last echo'd song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I sink to repose in my rock-bound grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is down in the depths of the wild sea wave.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_189" id="vol6Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6BOATMANS_SONG" id="vol6BOATMANS_SONG"></a>BOATMAN'S SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! for the boundless sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The home of the rover, the bold and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land hath its charms, but those be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To row my boat through the sparkling brine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lave in the pearls that kiss the prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bounding thing as we onward go—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To nerve the arm and bend the oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing away from the vacant shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, pull away o'er the glassy sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Land hath its charms, but no charms like thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurrah! let us dash through the sparkling brine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gloomily creeping the mists appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In denser shade on the mountains drear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the twilight steals o'er the stilly deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the zephyrs hush'd to its evening sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor a ripple uprears a whiten'd crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrinkle the blue of its placid breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all is still, save the lisping waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Washing the shells in the distant caves.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, pull away o'er the sleeping sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the home of my heart where I 'd ever rove!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurrah! hurrah! for the home I love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, I love the sound of the tempest's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I love the splash of the bending oar,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_190" id="vol6Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Playing amid the phosphoric fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen as the eddying sparks retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a fairy home, and I love to roam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through its sleeping calm or its lashing foam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land hath its charms, but the sea hath more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then away let us row from the vacant shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pull away, pull away o'er the mighty sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the tempest's path, and the path for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the home of the rover, the bold and free:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurrah! hurrah! for the boundless sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LISETTE" id="vol6LISETTE"></a>LISETTE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we meet again, Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the sun be sunk to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the glowing wavelets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the widely spreading west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let half the world be hush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the drowsiness of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And howlets scream the music<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the revels that they keep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the gentle lady-moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her coldly drooping beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be dancing in the ripple<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the ever-laughing streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the little elves disport<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the stilly noon of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lave their limbs of ether<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the mellow flood of light.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_191" id="vol6Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we meet again, Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let it be in yonder pile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the massy fretting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its darkly-shaded aisle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, through the crumbling arches<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The quaint old carvings loom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saint and seraph keep their watch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er many an ancient tomb.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_192" id="vol6Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6ALEXANDER_STEPHEN_WILSON" id="vol6ALEXANDER_STEPHEN_WILSON"></a>ALEXANDER STEPHEN WILSON.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>The Rural +Echo</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_193" id="vol6Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THINGS_MUST_MEND" id="vol6THINGS_MUST_MEND"></a>THINGS MUST MEND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gloom of dark despondency<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At times will cloud the breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope's eagle eye may shaded be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid fortune's fears oppress'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But while we nurse an honest aim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We shall not break nor bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when things are at the worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They must mend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentle heart by hardship crush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will sing amid its tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though its voice awhile be hush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis tuned for coming years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light from out the future shines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With hope's tear-drops to blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when things are at the worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They must mend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amid life's danger and despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still let our deeds be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nought but what is right and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can heal our hopeless view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beautiful will soothe us, like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunshine of a friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when things are at the worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They must mend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, never leave life's morning dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis whisper'd down from heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But trace its maze, though sorrow seem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sole reward that 's given;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_194" id="vol6Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The joy is there, or not on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which with our souls may blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when things are at the worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They must mend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_WEE_BLINK_THAT_SHINES_IN_A_TEAR" id="vol6THE_WEE_BLINK_THAT_SHINES_IN_A_TEAR"></a>THE WEE BLINK THAT SHINES IN A TEAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life's pleasure seems sadness and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When dark is the bosom that feels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet mingled wi' shades o' despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the ray which our sorrow reveals;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though darkly at times flows the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It rows till its waters are clear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hope shields a bud in our life's darkest dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the wee blink that shines in a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afar in the wilderness blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flower that spreads beauty around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Nature smiles sweet on our tombs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And softens with balm every wound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, call not our life sad nor vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its joys that can ever endear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a sweet ray of pleasure star deep in each pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the wee blink that shines in a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet smiles the last hope in our woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fair is the lone desert isle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Flora peeps gay from the snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dearest in grief is a smile;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_195" id="vol6Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The dew-drop is bright with a star;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Age glows when young memories appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a symbol to hope that is sweeter by far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the wee blink that shines in a tear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6FLOWERS_OF_MY_OWN_LOVED_CLIME" id="vol6FLOWERS_OF_MY_OWN_LOVED_CLIME"></a>FLOWERS OF MY OWN LOVED CLIME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye have cross'd o'er the wave from the glades where I roved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When my wild heart was careless and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now far away from the zephyrs ye loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye are bloomless and wither'd like me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sweet is the perfume that 's breathed from your leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like songs of the dear olden time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye come with the memory that glads while it grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet flowers of my own loved clime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, strange are the dreams ye awake in my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the home and the friends that were mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the days when I feel that my bosom was blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor deem'd it should ever repine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaze on your leaves where loved eyes have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the spell brings the dear olden time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I roved where ye bloom'd in yon valley so green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet flowers of my own loved clime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep down in my heart, where the world cannot see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I treasure a life all my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that land, sweet flowers, shall ope for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For like thine half its beauty hath flown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll live o'er the raptures of young years again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snatch back the dear olden time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I gaze on your blossoms, in pleasure or pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet flowers of my own loved clime!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_196" id="vol6Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_MACFARLAN" id="vol6JAMES_MACFARLAN"></a>JAMES MACFARLAN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>brochure</i>, entitled, "The +Wanderer of the West," is his latest production.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Bulletin</i>, a daily journal published in Glasgow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_197" id="vol6Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6ISABELLE" id="vol6ISABELLE"></a>ISABELLE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, beautiful and bright thou art!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, beautiful and bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy voice is music of the heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy looks are rarest light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time the silver dawn of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights up the dark of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yon pale moon lights up the heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With beauty clear and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee in the ebbing stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear quaint voices swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dim and phantom winds that come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whisper, Isabelle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, beautiful and bright thou art!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, beautiful and bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty hangeth o'er my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like rich star-crowded night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As moonbeams silver on the wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of some night-sadden'd river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So on my lonesome life thy love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would lie in light for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet wander on—oh, wander on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold river, to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, weary life, <i>thy</i> ocean gain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Undream'd eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain the cruel curse of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath torn our lives apart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man-made barriers of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weigh down the humble heart.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_198" id="vol6Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, hadst thou been a village maid—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A simple wayside flower—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nought to boast, save honest worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And beauty all thy dower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such might have been—such <i>should</i> have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But other lot befell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am the lowly son of toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou proud Isabelle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It ever seems to me that love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should level all degrees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure honour, and a stainless heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are Nature's heraldries.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No scutcheon needs a noble soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Alas! how thinks the age?);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is not poor who freedom hath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his broad heritage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then welcome sternest teacher, Toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vain dreams of youth, farewell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The future hath its duty's prize—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The past, its Isabelle.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6HOUSEHOLD_GODS" id="vol6HOUSEHOLD_GODS"></a>HOUSEHOLD GODS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Built on Time's uneven sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope's fair fabric soon is shatter'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowers adorn'd by Fancy's hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Torn in wandering leaves are scatter'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perish'd, perish'd, lost and perish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old affections fondly cherish'd.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_199" id="vol6Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All our blossoms wither soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we dream the flower will strengthen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And across life's summer noon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death's dark shadow seems to lengthen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that mighty shadow perish'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All we liv'd for, all we cherish'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear ones loved are lost in night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the world we wander lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the heart of all youth's light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holds one fading sunbeam only.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old affections vainly cherish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All except the memory perish'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6POOR_COMPANIONS" id="vol6POOR_COMPANIONS"></a>POOR COMPANIONS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look up, old friend! why hang thy head?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The world is all before us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's wealth of flowers is at our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven's wealth of worlds is o'er us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring leans to us across the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With affluent caressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And autumn yet shall crown our toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With many a fruitful blessing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then why should we despair in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who braved out wintry weather?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let monarchs rule, but we shall sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And journey on together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You mourn that we are born so poor—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not change our treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the thorn-concealing flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That strew the path of pleasure.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_200" id="vol6Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span class="i0">God only searches for the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor heeds the outward building;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe me, friend, a noble heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Requires no aid of gilding.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then never let us pine in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 've braved out wintry weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We yet may touch a sweeter string<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When toiling on together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though our blood be tinged with mud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lord's is simply purer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill scarce flow sixty years, nor make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His seat in heaven surer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But should the noble deign to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We 'll hail him as a brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trace respective pedigrees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Eve, our common mother.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then why should we despair in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who braved out wintry weather?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let monarchs rule, while we shall sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And journey on together.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_201" id="vol6Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6WILLIAM_B_C_RIDDELL" id="vol6WILLIAM_B_C_RIDDELL"></a>WILLIAM B. C. RIDDELL.</h2> + +<p>A youth of remarkable promise, William Brown Clark Riddell, was the +youngest son of Mr Henry Scott Riddell.<a name="vol6FNanchor_12_12" id="vol6FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_202" id="vol6Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6LAMENT_OF_WALLACE13" id="vol6LAMENT_OF_WALLACE13"></a>LAMENT OF WALLACE.<a name="vol6FNanchor_13_13" id="vol6FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more by thy margin, dark Carron,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall Wallace in solitude, wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When tranquil the moon shines afar on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy heart-stirring wildness and grandeur.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For lost are to me<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thy beauties for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Since fallen in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lie the faithful and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To waken, ah, never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I, thus defeated, must suffer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country's reproach; yet, forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A home to me nature may offer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among her green forests of braken.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But home who can find<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For heart-rending sorrow?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The wound who can bind<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When thus pierced is the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By fate's ruthless arrow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis death that alone ever frees us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of woes too profound to be spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nought but the grave ever eases<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pangs of a heart that is broken.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_203" id="vol6Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Then, oh! that my blood<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In Carron's dark water<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Had mix'd with the flood<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the warriors' shed<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mid torrents of slaughter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For woe to the day when desponding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I read in thine aspect the story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those that were slain when defending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their homes and their mountains of glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And curst be the guile<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of treacherous knavery<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That throws o'er our isle<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In its tyranny vile<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The mantle of slavery.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OH_WHAT_IS_IN_THIS_FLAUNTING_TOWN14" id="vol6OH_WHAT_IS_IN_THIS_FLAUNTING_TOWN14"></a>OH! WHAT IS IN THIS FLAUNTING TOWN?<a name="vol6FNanchor_14_14" id="vol6FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! what is in this flaunting town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That pleasure can impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When native hills and native glens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are imaged on the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy hears the ceaseless roar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cataracts sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I have paused and ponder'd o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The awful works of time?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What, what is all the city din?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What all the bustling crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That throngs these ways from morn to night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Array'd in trappings proud?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_204" id="vol6Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While fancy's eye still sees the scenes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around my mountain home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what 's to me yon turret high.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what yon splendid dome?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! what except a mockery vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of nature free as fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dazzles rather than delights<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eye that meets its glare?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then bear me to the heathy hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where I so loved to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There let me rove with footsteps free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sing the rural lay.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_205" id="vol6Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6MARGARET_CRAWFORD" id="vol6MARGARET_CRAWFORD"></a>MARGARET CRAWFORD.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>gloamin'</i>, 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_206" id="vol6Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND_2" id="vol6MY_NATIVE_LAND_2"></a>MY NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My native land! my native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where liberty shall firmly stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where men are brave in heart and hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ancient Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dear to me those gurgling rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wander free amang the hills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet to me the sang that fills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The groves o' Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me o' a distant isle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where summer suns for ever smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But frae my heart they 'll never wile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love for Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what are a' their flowery plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fill'd with weeping slav'ry's chains?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae foot o' slavery ever stains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My native Caledonia!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though cauld 's the sun that shed's his rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Scotland's bonnie woods and braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me spend my latest days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ancient Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My native land! my native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where liberty shall firmly stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where men are brave in heart and hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True sons of Caledonia!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_207" id="vol6Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_EMIGRANTS_FAREWELL" id="vol6THE_EMIGRANTS_FAREWELL"></a>THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far from my dear native country I roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondly I cling to the bright scenes of gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shone o'er my heart in my dear happy home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far from the home of my childhood I wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far from the friends I may never meet more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft on those visions of bliss I shall ponder—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Visions that memory alone can restore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friends of my youth I shall love you for ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Closer and firmer ye twine round my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now the wide sea our lot may dissever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Affection and friendship can never depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear to my heart thou shalt ever remain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, when shall I gaze on those bright scenes of gladness?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shall I visit my country again?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_STREAM_OF_LIFE" id="vol6THE_STREAM_OF_LIFE"></a>THE STREAM OF LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down by a crystal stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Musing I stray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As 'neath the summer beam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightly it play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winding by field and fen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mountain and meadow, then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing through wood and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft'ning the shade.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_208" id="vol6Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, then, methought, is life;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Onward it flows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now mingling peace with strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toil with repose—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now sparkling joyously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the glare of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinking each sunny ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Purely it flows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now gliding peacefully,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calm and serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothly it takes its way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Softly I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmur its waters past—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, will that stillness last?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, rocks are nearing fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Changing the scene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wildly it dashes now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loudly it roars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the craggy brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fiercely it pours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in commotion lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wave over wave is toss'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spray, white as winter's frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up from it soars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet where the conflict 's worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brightest it gleams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rays long in silence nursed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shoot forth in streams:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauties before unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out from its breast are thrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light, like a golden zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brilliantly beams.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_209" id="vol6Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus in the Christian's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure faith may lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid in the day of rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep from the eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when life's shadows lower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith lights the darkest hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving, by heavenly power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gloom from the sky.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6DAY-DREAMS_OF_OTHER_YEARS" id="vol6DAY-DREAMS_OF_OTHER_YEARS"></a>DAY-DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And time long, long departed, like the present still appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I revel in the sunshine of those happy, happy hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sky of youth was cloudless, and its path was strewn with flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O those days of dreamy sweetness! O those visions of delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving garlands for the future, making all of earth too bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They come creeping through my memory like messengers of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telling tales of bygone blessings, bidding present sorrows cease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long-lost friends are gath'ring round me, smiling faces, gentle forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unconscious of earth's struggles, all unmindful of its storms—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_210" id="vol6Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beaming radiantly and beautiful, as in the days of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When friendship was no mockery, when every thought was truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Joy, illuming every bosom, made fair nature fairer still—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mirth sported on each summer breeze, and sung in every rill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty gleaming all around us, bright as dreams of fairy land—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, faded now that lustre, scatter'd far that happy band!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now deeply traced with sorrow is the once unclouded brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes that sparkled joyously are dim with weeping now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are tasting life in earnest—all its vain illusions gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars that glisten'd o'er our path are falling one by one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some are sleeping with their kindred—summer blossoms o'er them wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, lonely and unfriended, with the stranger found a grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While others now are wand'ring on a far and foreign shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that happy, loving company shall meet—ah! never more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But afar in mem'ry's garden, like a consecrated spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart's first hopes are hidden, and can never be forgot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the light that cheer'd us onward, in our airy early days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft we linger in the distance to look back upon its rays.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_211" id="vol6Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Time, with hand relentless, may shed ruins o'er the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May strew our path with sorrow, make a desert of our hearth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change may blight our fairest blossoms, shroud our clearest light in gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the flow'ry fields of early years shall never lose their bloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6AFFECTIONS_FAITH" id="vol6AFFECTIONS_FAITH"></a>AFFECTION'S FAITH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away on the breast of the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far away o'er the billowy brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the strife of the boiling commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the storm and the tempest combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roams my heart, of its wand'ring ne'er weary;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Hope, with her heavenly smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheers the bosom that else would be dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And points me to blessings the while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of the far-hidden future still dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the wild wings of fancy I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the star of affection, bright beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is piercing the gloom of our sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my home is away o'er the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afar o'er the wide swelling sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a heart, in its purest devotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is breathing fond blessings on me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_212" id="vol6Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6GEORGE_DONALD_JUN" id="vol6GEORGE_DONALD_JUN"></a>GEORGE DONALD, JUN.</h2> + +<p>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 <i>Examiner</i> and +<i>Citizen</i> newspapers.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6OUR_AIN_GREEN_SHAW" id="vol6OUR_AIN_GREEN_SHAW"></a>OUR AIN GREEN SHAW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar rivers row ower gowden sands, and flower unfading blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! nae joys o' nature to me are half sae dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the flow'rets springing wild in our ain green shaw.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_213" id="vol6Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They speak o' gilded palaces, o' lords and leddies fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scenes that charm the weary heart in cities far awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nane o' a' their gaudy shows and pleasures can compare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the happiness that dwells in our ain green shaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh weel I lo'e when summer comes wi' sunny days an' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brings to gladden ilka heart her rural pleasures a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the thorn the mavis sings and gowans deck the lea,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, then nae spot 's sae bonnie as our ain green shaw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While Heaven supplies each simple want and leaves me still my cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll bear through life a cheerfu' heart whatever may befa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor envy ither's joys, but aye be happy wi' my lot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When wand'ring in the e'enin' through our ain green shaw.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6ELIZA" id="vol6ELIZA"></a>ELIZA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In her chamber, vigil keeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Eliza sitteth weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Weeping for her lover slain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once a joyous-hearted maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till her William cross'd the main.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_214" id="vol6Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fatal day that saw them parted!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it left her lonely-hearted—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her so full of joy before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought to her the thought of sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouding her young spirit's gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That she ne'er might see him more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sad Eliza, no blest morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will dispel thy secret sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bring thine own true love again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mournful is thy William's story:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the field of martial glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fighting bravely, he was slain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the silent stars above her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem to tell her of her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For each night, with pensive gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blue vault shining o'er her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits Eliza, while before her<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fleet the scenes of other days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus her lonely vigil keeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Eliza sitteth weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Weeping for her lover slain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once a joyous-hearted maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till her William cross'd the main.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_215" id="vol6Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_JEFFREY" id="vol6JOHN_JEFFREY"></a>JOHN JEFFREY.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_216" id="vol6Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6WAR-CRY_OF_THE_ROMAN_INSURRECTIONISTS" id="vol6WAR-CRY_OF_THE_ROMAN_INSURRECTIONISTS"></a>WAR-CRY OF THE ROMAN INSURRECTIONISTS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, Romans, rise at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Craft's kingdom now is past;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Brook no delay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lombard blades long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swifter than whirlwinds blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swept from Milan the foe:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Why should we stay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, then, for fatherland;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rock-like phalanx stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cowards no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise in colossal might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise till the storm of fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrap us in lurid light<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where cannons roar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In this great dawn of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this great death of crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Quit us like men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By our deeds, by our words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By our songs, by our swords—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Use all against the hordes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sabre or pen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More than fame, duty calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trumpet-tongued from the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Girding great Rome;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battle for truth and faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battle lest hostile scathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crush us, or fetters swathe<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Free hearth and home!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_217" id="vol6Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! how God's thunders roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Booming from pole to pole<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the wide world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Old lies are crush'd for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now truths assume their sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright shines the flag of day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er night unfurl'd!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tower, then, the barricades!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash forth the lightning blades!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Romans, awake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Storm as the tempests burst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down with the brood accursed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparks long in silence nursed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Etna-like break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that volcano's thirst<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Seas cannot slake!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_218" id="vol6Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6PATRICK_SCOTT" id="vol6PATRICK_SCOTT"></a>PATRICK SCOTT.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_EXILE" id="vol6THE_EXILE"></a>THE EXILE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With drooping heart he turn'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To seek a distant clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where friends were kind, and life was gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In early boyhood's time.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_219" id="vol6Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And still with years and seas between,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To one fond hope he clung—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see once more, as he had seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The home he loved when young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His youthful brow was touch'd with thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And life had lost its morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When glad again the wanderer sought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soil where he was born.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that long expected shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Denied the wonted joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the man felt not, as of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had felt the happier boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For formal friends scarce grasp'd his hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The friends he knew of old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cared he for a sunny land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If human hearts were cold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again he cast his alter'd lot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid alien tribes to roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fail'd to find another spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So foreign as his home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His heavy grief no bosom shared,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No eye would weep his fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What matter if <i>his</i> life were spared,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who lived unloved by all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when had ceased his earthly toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon that distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bones were gather'd to the soil—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His heart had died before.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_220" id="vol6Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_BATHURST_DICKSON" id="vol6JOHN_BATHURST_DICKSON"></a>JOHN BATHURST DICKSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>During the period of his attendance at college, Mr Dickson was an +extensive contributor to <i>Tait's Magazine</i>, 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_221" id="vol6Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_AMERICAN_FLAG" id="vol6THE_AMERICAN_FLAG"></a>THE AMERICAN FLAG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Float forth, thou flag of the free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash far over land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud ensign of Liberty—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blue of the heavens is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars on thy canvas shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heraldry tells thee divine—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy white proclaims thee unstain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy crimson thy love unfeign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To man, by despots enchain'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under thy God-given light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fathers went forth to fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst sceptred wrong for the right—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Lion of England no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst thy proud Eagle shall roar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace strideth from shore to shore—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Float forth, thou flag of the free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash far over land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the world shout, Liberty—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hail, hail to thee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_222" id="vol6Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6EVAN_MCOLL" id="vol6EVAN_MCOLL"></a>EVAN M'COLL.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_223" id="vol6Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HEATHER" id="vol6THE_HILLS_OF_THE_HEATHER"></a>THE HILLS OF THE HEATHER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give the swains of Italia<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong myrtles to rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give the proud, sullen Spaniard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His bright orange grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give gold-sanded streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the sons of Chili,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! give the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the heather to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hills where the hunter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft soundeth his horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sweetest the skylark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awakens the morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gray cliff, the blue lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stream's dashing glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endear the red hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the heather to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There Health, rosy virgin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever doth dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Love fondly whispers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Beauty his tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Freedom's own darling!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Gael, lives free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, oh! give the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the heather to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_224" id="vol6Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_D_BURNS" id="vol6JAMES_D_BURNS"></a>JAMES D. BURNS.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6RISE_LITTLE_STAR" id="vol6RISE_LITTLE_STAR"></a>RISE, LITTLE STAR!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Rise, little star!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the dusky hill,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the bright course open<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hast to fulfil.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_225" id="vol6Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Climb, little star!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Higher still and higher.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a silent swiftness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a pulse of fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Stand, little star!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the peak of heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for one brief moment<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the triumph given.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Sink, little star!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet make heaven bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even while thou art sinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thy gentle light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Set, little star!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gladly fade and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the blush of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coming up the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Each little star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crieth, Life, O man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should have one clear purpose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shining round its span.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THOUGH_LONG_THE_WANDERER_MAY_DEPART" id="vol6THOUGH_LONG_THE_WANDERER_MAY_DEPART"></a>THOUGH LONG THE WANDERER MAY DEPART.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though long the wanderer may depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far his footsteps roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clasps the closer to his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The image of his home.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_226" id="vol6Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To that loved land, where'er he goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His tend'rest thoughts are cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dearer still through absence grows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The memory of the past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though nature on another shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her softest smile may wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vales, the hills, he loved before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To him are far more fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens that met his childhood's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All clouded though they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem brighter than the sunniest sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of climes beyond the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Faith, a stranger on the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still turns its eye above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child of an immortal birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seeks more than mortal love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scenes of earth, though very fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Want home's endearing spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his heart and hope are where<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His God and Saviour dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He may behold them dimly here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see them as not nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all he loves will yet appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unclouded to his eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that fair city, now so far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rejoicing he will come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A better light than Bethlehem's star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Guides every wanderer home.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_227" id="vol6Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6GEORGE_HENDERSON" id="vol6GEORGE_HENDERSON"></a>GEORGE HENDERSON.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_228" id="vol6Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6I_CANNA_LEAVE_MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="vol6I_CANNA_LEAVE_MY_NATIVE_LAND"></a>I CANNA LEAVE MY NATIVE LAND.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna leave my native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I canna sail the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees around my cottage stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gowans deck the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The primrose blooms beside the burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild flower on the brae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leave them a' my heart wad mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I canna gang away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dew-draps gem the clover leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laverock sings aboon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blae-berry bush wi' spring revives,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And it will blossom soon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I canna leave the bonnie brae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where waves the new-sprung fern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where oft I 've pass'd the summer's day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And look'd upon the burn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I canna leave the green-croft well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its waters cool and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oft its pleasant murmurs dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like music in mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elder bush, the garden bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where robin sings sae sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The auld gray dike, the bee-house tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cosie garden seat.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_229" id="vol6Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6HORATIUS_BONAR_DD" id="vol6HORATIUS_BONAR_DD"></a>HORATIUS BONAR, D.D.</h2> + +<p>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 +<i>Presbyterian Review</i>; he now edits <i>The Quarterly Journal of Prophecy</i>. +The following spiritual songs, well adapted for music, are from his +volume entitled "Hymns of Faith and Hope."<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_230" id="vol6Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_MEETING_PLACE" id="vol6THE_MEETING_PLACE"></a>THE MEETING PLACE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the faded flower shall freshen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Freshen never more to fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shaded sky shall brighten,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brighten never more to shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sun-blaze never scorches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the star-beams cease to chill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no tempest stirs the echoes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the wood, or wave, or hill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the morn shall wake in gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the noon the joy prolong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the daylight dies in fragrance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid the burst of holy song:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brother, we shall meet and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mid the holy and the blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where no shadow shall bewilder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where life's vain parade is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sleep of sin is broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dreamer dreams no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bond is never sever'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Partings, claspings, sob and moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midnight waking, twilight weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heavy noontide, all are done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the child has found its mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the mother finds the child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where dear families are gather'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That were scatter'd on the wild:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brother, we shall meet and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mid the holy and the blest!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_231" id="vol6Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the hidden wound is healèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the blighted life re-blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the smitten heart the freshness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of its buoyant youth resumes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the love that here we lavish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the withering leaves of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In an ever spring-bright clime:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we find the joy of loving,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we never loved before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loving on, unchill'd, unhinder'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loving once and evermore:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brother, we shall meet and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mid the holy and the blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where a blasted world shall brighten<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Underneath a bluer sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a softer, gentler sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed its healing splendour here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where earth's barren vales shall blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Putting on their robe of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a purer, fairer Eden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be where only wastes have been:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a king in kingly glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such as earth has never known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall assume the righteous sceptre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Claim and wear the holy crown:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Brother, we shall meet and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Mid the holy and the blest!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_232" id="vol6Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6TRUST_NOT_THESE_SEAS_AGAIN" id="vol6TRUST_NOT_THESE_SEAS_AGAIN"></a>TRUST NOT THESE SEAS AGAIN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not these seas again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though smooth and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not these waves again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shipwreck is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not these stars again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though bright and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not these skies again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tempest is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not that breeze again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gentle and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not these clouds again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightning is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not that isle again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flower-crown'd and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not its rocks again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earthquake is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not these flowers again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fragrant and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not that rose again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blighting is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not that earth again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Verdant and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not its fields again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winter is there.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_233" id="vol6Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not these hopes again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sunny and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not that smile again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peril is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not this world again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not its sweets again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wormwood is there;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not its love again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sparkling and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not its joy again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorrow is there.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_234" id="vol6Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_HALLIDAY" id="vol6JOHN_HALLIDAY"></a>JOHN HALLIDAY.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_AULD_KIRK_BELL" id="vol6THE_AULD_KIRK_BELL"></a>THE AULD KIRK BELL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a howm, by a burn, where the brown birks grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the green ferns nod when the wild winds blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands the roofless kirk in the auld kirkyard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the gowans earliest gem the swaird;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gray, gray moss on ilk cauld through stane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrouds in oblivion the lang, lang gane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the ance warm heart is a cauld, cauld clod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the beauteous and brave give a green to the sod—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a time-worn tower, where the dim owls dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tuneless and torn, hangs the auld kirk bell.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_235" id="vol6Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the auld kirk floor is the damp night dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where warm words flow'd in a worship true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the sugh o' the breeze, and the hum o' the bee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it wings and sings in its taintless glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the nettles tall to the thistles red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they roughly wave o'er each deep, dark bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it plies its task on the wa'-flowers tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bloom in the choir and wave on the wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, soaring away with a sweep and a swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It covers its combs in the auld kirk bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the crumbling base of the auld kirk tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the broad-leaved dock and the bright brae flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the adders hiss o'er the lime-bound stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And playfully writhe round mouldering bones:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bat clingeth close to the binewood's root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where its gnarlèd boughs up the belfry shoot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, hiding the handworks of ruthless time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It garlands in grandeur and green sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hoary height, where the rust sae fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bends, as with a burden, the auld kirk bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, red is the rust, and a ruin is come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the auld kirk bell—ance and ever it 's dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the brink of the past 'tis awaiting a doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a wauf o' the wind may awaken its tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, bearing its fragments, all dust-like, away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blend with water, the wood and the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till lost 'mid the changes of manners and men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then ne'er ane will think, nor ere ane will ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That a joyfu' jowl and a waefu' knell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it swung, had been rung by the auld kirk bell.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_236" id="vol6Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_AULD_AIK-TREE" id="vol6THE_AULD_AIK-TREE"></a>THE AULD AIK-TREE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, we hae been amang the bowers that winter didna bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we hae daunder'd in the howes where flowers were ever fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lain aneath as lofty trees as eye did ever see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ne'er could lo'e them as we lo'e the auld aik-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no because its boughs are busk'd in any byous green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For simmer sairs it little now—it's no what it has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' ilka wauf o' win' that blaws dings dauds o't on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bairnies bear their burdens frae the auld aik-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no because the gowans bright grow bonnie by its ruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we hae seen them blum as braw in mony a ither bit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet because the mavis sings his mellow morning glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae sweetly frae the branches o' the auld aik-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there 's a kindly feeling found and foster'd in the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bears the thought a backward stream to lifetime's early part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ties us to ilk morning scene o' love and laughing glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We 've seen, and kenn'd, and join'd aneath the auld aik-tree.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_237" id="vol6Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For we hae play'd aneath its shade a chuffie-cheekit bairn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unkennin' o', uncarin' for, cauld care or crosses stern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ran around it at the ba' when we frae schule wan free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wha daur say we sudna lo'e the auld aik-tree?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 've speel'd upon its foggie stem and dern'd amang its green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the pyet in her nest amidst the grays o' e'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch'd the gooldie bringin' doon to big her hame sae wee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atween the cosie forkings o' the auld aik-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we hae tint and ta'en a heart when gloamin's shadows threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out o'er the glen her misty gray in kindly drippin' dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt the tear o' anguish fa' in torrents frae our e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When pairting frae that loved ane 'neath the auld aik-tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our hame we left wi' hopefu' heart and mony a warm fareweel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gowd and gear we gain'd awa; but oh, the freen's sae leal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are they? where my childhood's hearth—those hearts sae kind and free,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a' is unco groun save the auld aik-tree?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_238" id="vol6Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JAMES_DODDS" id="vol6JAMES_DODDS"></a>JAMES DODDS.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_239" id="vol6Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6TRIAL_AND_DEATH_OF_ROBERT_BAILLIE_OF_JERVIESWOODE" id="vol6TRIAL_AND_DEATH_OF_ROBERT_BAILLIE_OF_JERVIESWOODE"></a>TRIAL AND DEATH OF ROBERT BAILLIE OF JERVIESWOODE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas when December's dark'ning scowl the face of heaven o'ercast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vile men high in place were more unpitying than the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before their grim tribunal's front, firm and undaunted stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That patriot chief of high renown, the noble Jervieswoode.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand of death is on him press'd—the seal of death is there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the savage of the wilderness those weak old limbs would spare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail, frail his step, and bent his frame, and ye may plainly trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of death's wing upon his pale and sunken face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These twenty long and dreary months in the dungeon he hath lain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long days of sickness, weary nights of languishing and pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom no gale hath breathed its balm, no sun hath bless'd the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No friendly hand to smooth his couch, nor friendly voice to cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lady in their lonely hall doth mournful vigils keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he sat and where he walk'd his children watch and weep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_240" id="vol6Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet o'er his weakness and decay an ancient grandeur falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the majesty that lingers round some mould'ring palace walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light of calm and noble thoughts is bright within his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, purged of earthly taint, his soul prepares to mount on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is he left alone—a sister faithful to him clung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With woman's heart, with home-born love, with angel look and tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in that Golgotha she sits, so tender, so benign—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as the moon's sweet glimpses through the cloudy tempest shine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The court is met, the assize are set: the robes of state look brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the proudest and the lordliest there is but a tyrant's slave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blood-hirelings they who earn their pay by foul and treach'rous deeds—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For swift and fell the hound must be whom the hunter richly feeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though no act of wrong e'er stain'd the fame of Jervieswoode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall it protect him in those times that he is wise and good?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wise—so good—so loved of all, though weak and worn with care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though death comes fast he is the last whom Antichrist would spare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his the bold and freeborn mind, the wisdom of a sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glow of youth still cherish'd in the sober breast of age;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_241" id="vol6Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The soul of chivalry is his, and honour pure from stain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart that beats for liberty, and spurns each galling chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether entwined by hands that bear the crozier or the sword;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he would see all nations free in Christ who is their Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And once, with England's patriot band, by tyrant power oppress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had dream'd of free and happy homes in the forests of the west—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe the uncorrupted air, to tread the fresh green sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the broad Savannah rolls in peace to worship God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are his crimes! the treason this for which he now is tried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though the forms of law are kept all justice is denied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe! that a land so favour'd once should witness such disgrace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shame! that a land so powerful yet should brook a scene so base!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unroll your parchments black with lies—shut fast your coward doors—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brand the aged chief with crimes his generous heart abhors:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When truth avails not, well you know how to supply the lack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With secret tales and with wild words extorted by the rack!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_242" id="vol6Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There is an hour for every power—an hour of darkness this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spur on, ye slaves of Antichrist! or ye the goal may miss!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His strength, increasing with his need, he raises bold and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fixes on Mackenzie<a name="vol6FNanchor_15_15" id="vol6FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> a clear and searching eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How canst thou thus, my lord, 'gainst me such accusations bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have been a man of strife in plots against the king?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate the way of violence—the anarchist I spurn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who scatters firebrands little knows where they may fall and burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my degree I have been bold to guard the nation's right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep alive within these realms the lamp of Gospel light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my gloomy dungeon laid, didst thou not visit me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And solemnly avow that I from wicked plots was free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How canst thou, then, unto my charge such grievous actions lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all thou hast so solemn said as solemnly unsay?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The whole assembled multitude full on Mackenzie turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That even his harden'd countenance with shame and anger burn'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"True, Jervieswoode, I told thee so, as my own private view—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here I discharge the functions which to the crown are due."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_243" id="vol6Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"If thou hast a conscience for thyself, and another for this place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leave thee to the God of heaven and His all pardoning grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lords, I add no more—proceed—right well I know my doom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death hath no terrors for my soul—the grave it hath no gloom!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis one from old Saint Giles! The blasts of midnight shake the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoarse sounding like a demon's voice, which the stoutest hearts appal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doom is utter'd!—"Twelve hours hence thy traitorous head shall fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a terror be exposed upon the city wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy limbs shall quarter'd be, and hung, all mutilate and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Jedburgh, and Lanark town, at Glasgow, and at Ayr;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all good subjects thence may learn obedience to the State,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their duty to our gracious king, and bloody treason's fate."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A horror seizes every breast—a stifled cry of dread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who sheds the blood of innocence, the blood on his own head!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pack'd and perjured jury shrink in conscience-struck dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish their hands as clear of guilt as they were yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mackenzie's cold and flinty face is quivering like a leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst with quick and throbbing finger he turns o'er and o'er his brief;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_244" id="vol6Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the misnamed judges vainly try their rankling thoughts to hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath an outward painted mask of loftiness and pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even she, the sweet heroic one! aye watchful at his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose courage ne'er hath blanch'd as yet, though sorely, sharply tried—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even she is crush'd beneath the weight of this last and deadly blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sinks upon her brother's neck, o'erwhelm'd in speechless woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, he alone, is calm of soul! Powers of no mortal birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are gently loosening every tie that links him to the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And inward faith gives outward force—strong is his deep dark eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his brow and lip are beautiful as in the days gone by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meekly he rises to depart, but pauses for a space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looks upon his cowering foes with calm and saintly grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The time is short, the sentence sharp—your malice I forgive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God hath made me fit to die, as ye, my lords, to live!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And meekly he departs! his toils, his work, and warfare done—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his martyr chariot waits him, and his triumphs are begun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And twelve hours thence, upon the block, his reverend head did fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a terror was exposed upon the city wall;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_245" id="vol6Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +<span class="i0">His limbs were quarter'd, and were hung, all mutilate and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Jedburgh, and Lanark town, at Glasgow, and at Ayr:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus through all broad Scotland these martyr'd relics go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a fiery cross to rouse the land to the tyrant's overthrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ancient halls of Jervieswoode are desolate and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its ancient oaks and lime trees are sinking in decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are of things that perish, and their place soon knows them not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a glory from the past illumes this consecrated spot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him who braves the martyr's death is deathless honour given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the faith that breeds heroic deeds is dear to earth and heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through all succeeding ages, amongst the wise and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enshrined shall be the memory of the noble Jervieswoode.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_246" id="vol6Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_247" id="vol6Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_248" id="vol6Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_249" id="vol6Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="vol6DUNCAN_MACFARLAN" id="vol6DUNCAN_MACFARLAN"></a>DUNCAN MACFARLAN.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_250" id="vol6Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_BEAUTY_OF_THE_SHIELING" id="vol6THE_BEAUTY_OF_THE_SHIELING"></a>THE BEAUTY OF THE SHIELING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My beauty of the shieling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy graceful air, like arrow-shaft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fiery flame concealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has left me to the marrow chaf'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So winsome is thy smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love-craft so beguiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It binds me like the wilding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I yield, in dule and sorrow left.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy brown locks rank'd in order,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So spiral, rich, and clustering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy face, of flowers a border,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath feather'd eyebrows mustering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two drops of dewy splendour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those lids of beauty under!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that kiss—a fragrant wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fruits of India Western!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_251" id="vol6Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_MUNRO" id="vol6JOHN_MUNRO"></a>JOHN MUNRO.</h2> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_252" id="vol6Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_HIGHLAND_WELCOME" id="vol6THE_HIGHLAND_WELCOME"></a>THE HIGHLAND WELCOME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My dearest, wilt thou follow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mount with me the billow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou with me pass o'er the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land of hill and hollow?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No, Highlandman! I leave not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My kindred for another,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor go with thee across the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the children of my mother.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No, Highlandman! I will not fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My own beloved border;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For poortith dwells and famine pales<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In your Highlands of disorder.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I will not wed a Gael—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His house is but a shieling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, best unborn, than all forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mid your crags to have my dwelling!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The house I call mine own house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A better was not born in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And land and sea will smile on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the Highlands of thy scorning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I do not boast the wheaten wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our glens and hills, my dearie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But enow is health, and grass is wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land of mead and dairy.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_253" id="vol6Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 've store of kine, my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor any lilting sweeter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine ear can know, than is their low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the music of the bleater.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have no ship on ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With merchant treasure sailing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my tight boat, and trusty net,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whole loads of fish are trailing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And, for dress, is none, my beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the tartan plaiding warmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For its colours bright, oh, what delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see them deck my charmer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And ne'er was Highland welcome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More hearty than thy greeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day, the rein, and courteous swain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy pleasure will be meeting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And thou shalt wear the healthy hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That give the Highland breezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a bird but will be heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sing the song that pleases.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No summer morn is blyther,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all its burst of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the heaving breast, that, uncaress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pined—shall, caress'd, adore thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stay, Highlander! my heart, my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My vow and all I render,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Highland lay has won the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will hie me yonder."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_254" id="vol6Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6JOHN_MACDONALD_JUN" id="vol6JOHN_MACDONALD_JUN"></a>JOHN MACDONALD, JUN.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6MARY_THE_FAIR_OF_GLENSMOLE" id="vol6MARY_THE_FAIR_OF_GLENSMOLE"></a>MARY, THE FAIR OF GLENSMOLE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the snowy blossom of the thorny tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet, oh, sweet! with Mary o'er the wilds to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Glensmole is dress'd in all the pride of May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when weary roving through the greenwood glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softly to recline beneath the birken shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There to fix my gaze in raptures of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her eyes of truth, of love, of life, of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her bosom, purer than the silver tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer than the <i>cana</i> on the mountain side.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_255" id="vol6Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What were all the sounds contrived by tuneful men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the warbling wild notes of the sylvan glen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the merry lark ascends on dewy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the mellow mavis and the blackbird sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What were all the splendour of the proud and great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the simple pleasures of our green retreat?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the crystal spring fresh vigour we inhale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosy health does court us on the mountain gale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I offer'd all the wealth that Albion yields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All her lofty mountains and her fruitful fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the countless riches of her subject seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would scorn the change for blisses such as these!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet the snowy blossom of the thorny tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_256" id="vol6Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6EVAN_MCOLL16" id="vol6EVAN_MCOLL16"></a>EVAN M'COLL.<a name="vol6FNanchor_16_16" id="vol6FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol6Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h2> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="vol6THE_CHILD_OF_PROMISE" id="vol6THE_CHILD_OF_PROMISE"></a>THE CHILD OF PROMISE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—as die the roses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the ruddy clouds of dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the envious sun discloses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His flame, and morning 's gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—like waves of sun-glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast by the shadows chased:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died—like heaven's rainbow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By gushing showers effaced.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—like flakes appearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the shore beside the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy snow as bright! but, nearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ground-swell broke on thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—as dies the glory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of music's sweetest swell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died—as dies the story<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the best is still to tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—as dies moon-beaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When scowls the rayless wave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died—like sweetest dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hastens to its grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died—and died she early:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven wearied for its own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the dipping sun, my Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy morning ray went down!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_257" id="vol6Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_259" id="vol6Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_258" id="vol6Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6INDEX" id="vol6INDEX"></a>INDEX<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">TO THE</span><br /> +<br /> +FIRST LINES OF THE SONGS.</h2> + +<ul class='IX'><li>A bonnie rose bloom'd wild and fair, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_112">112</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu—a long and last adieu, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, lovely summer, I see thee declining, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, romantic banks of Clyde, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_30">30</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, ye streams that smoothly glide, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>Adieu, ye wither'd flow'rets, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Admiring nature's simple charms, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! do not bid me wake the lute, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_283">283</a>.</li> + +<li>Adown the burnie's flowery bank, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed out, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li>Ae morn of May, when fields were gay, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! faded is that lovely bloom, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Afar from the home where his youthful prime, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Afore the Lammas tide, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>Afore the muircock begin to craw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Again the laverock seeks the sky, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Ages, ages have departed, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>A health to Caberfae, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_357">357</a>.</li> + +<li>Alake for the lassie! she's no right at a', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_317">317</a>.</li> + +<li>A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>Alas! how true the boding voice, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! little did my mother think, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>A lively young lass had a wee pickle tow, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li>All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>All night, by the pathway that crosses the muir, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>Alone to the banks of the dark rolling Danube, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Along by Levern stream so clear, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Although the lays o' ither lands, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Amang the birks sae blithe an' gay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_227">227</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_260" id="vol6Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></li> + +<li>Amang the breezy heights and howes, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! Mary, sweetest maid, farewell, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>And can thy bosom bear the thought, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li>And dost thou speak sincere, my love, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah no! I cannot say farewell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah, Peggie, since thou 'rt gane away, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>A pretty young maiden sat on the grass, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>As clear is Luther's wave, I ween, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_326">326</a>.</li> + +<li>As lockfasted in slumber's arms, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_330">330</a>.</li> + +<li>As o'er the Highland hills I hied, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>A song, a song, brave hearts, a song, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_8">8</a>.</li> + +<li>As sunshine to the flowers in May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>At hame or afield, I 'm cheerless and lone, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Ah! the wound of my breast sinks my heart to the dust, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_343">343</a>.</li> + +<li>At waking so early, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_311">311</a>.</li> + +<li>At Willie's weddin' on the green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>Auld Peter MacGowan cam' down the craft, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_10">10</a>.</li> + +<li>Awake, thou first of creatures, indignant in their frown, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>Away, away, like a child at play, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Away, away, my gallant bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>Away on the breast of the ocean, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Away on the wings of the wind she flies, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Away to the Highlands, where Lomond is flowing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>A weary lot is thine, fair maid, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bird cam' to our ha' door, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bird sits upon a spray, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>A wee bit laddie sits wi' a bowl upon his knees, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>A wet sheet and a flowing sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>A young gudewife is in my house, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Bare was our burn brae, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Beautiful moon, wilt thou tell me where, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>Behave yoursel' before folk, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_74">74</a>.</li> + +<li>Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Ben Cruachan is king of the mountains, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li>Beneath a hill, 'mang birken bushes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Bird of the wilderness, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Blaw saftly, ye breezes, ye streams, smoothly murmur, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>Blest be the hour of night, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>Blithe be the mind of the ploughman, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>Blithe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_148">148</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_261" id="vol6Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></li> + +<li>Blithe young Bess to Jean did say, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Blue are the hills above the Spey, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Charlie 's now awa, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Clouden, as ye wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie lassie, blithesome lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>Born where the glorious starlights trace, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>Bring the rod, the line, the reel, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Brither Jamie cam' west wi' a braw burn trout, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Built on Time's uneven sand, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>By Niagara's flood, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>By the lone Mankayana's margin gray, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>By yon hoarse murmurin' stream, 'neath the moon's chilly beam, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_212">212</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Calm sleep the village dead, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_260">260</a>.</li> + +<li>Cam' ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>Can my dearest Henry leave me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>Can ought be constant as the sun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Can ye lo'e, my dear lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>Ca' the yowes to the knowes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_119">119</a>.</li> + +<li>Change! change! the mournful story, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Chaunt me no more thy roundelay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Cheer, boys, cheer! no more of idle sorrow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>Close by the marge of Leman's Lake, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Come all ye jolly shepherds, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Come awa', come awa', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Come awa', hie awa', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Come back, come back, thou youthful time, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Come gie us a sang, Montgomery cried, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_19">19</a>.</li> + +<li>Come, memory, paint, though far away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Come o'er the stream, Charlie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Come see my scarlet rose-bush, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_306">306</a>.</li> + +<li>Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Could we but look beyond our sphere, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_262" id="vol6Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></li> + +<li>Culloden, on thy swarthy brow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_46">46</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear aunty, I've been lang your care, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Dearest love believe me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Dear to my heart as life's warm stream, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Does grief appeal to you, ye leal, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_341">341</a>.</li> + +<li>Down by a crystal stream, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Down in the valley lone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_181">181</a>.</li> + +<li>Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Do you know what the birds are singing? vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_134">134</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Each whirl of the wheel, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Easy is my pillow press'd, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a>.</li> + +<li>Eliza fair, the mirth of May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_138">138</a>.</li> + +<li>Eliza was a bonnie lass, and, oh! she lo'ed me weel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>Ere eild wi' his blatters had warsled me doun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>Ere foreign fashions crossed the Tweed, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Eye of the brain and heart, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_133">133</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair are the fleecy flocks that feed, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair as a star of light, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair Ellen, here again I stand, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair modest flower of matchless worth, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li>Fair Scotland, dear as life to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Fare-thee-weel, for I must leave thee, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>Fare-thee-weel, my bonnie lassie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_225">225</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel, O! fareweel, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel to ilk hill whar the red heather grows, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Fareweel, ye fields and meadows green, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, and though my steps depart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, our father's land, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell ye braes of broad Braemar, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Farewell, ye streams sae dear to me, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Far lone amang the Highland hills, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Far over yon hills of the heather sae green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>Fife, an' a' the land about it, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_112">112</a>.</li> + +<li>Float forth, thou flag of the free, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Flowers of summer sweetly springing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Flow saftly thou stream through the wild spangled valley, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>For mony lang year I hae heard frae my granny, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>For success a prayer with a farewell bear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_284">284</a>.</li> + +<li>For twenty years and more, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>From beauty's soft lips, like the balm of its roses, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_97">97</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_263" id="vol6Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></li> + +<li>From the climes of the sun all war-worn and weary, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>From the deep and troubled waters, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>From the village of Leslie with a heart full of glee, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Fy, let us a' to the wedding, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_136">136</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Gae bring my guid auld harp ance mair, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Gane were but the winter cauld, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Give me the hour when bells are rung, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Give the swains of Italia, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Glad tidings for the Highlands, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_335">335</a>.</li> + +<li>Gloomy winter's now awa', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>Good morrow, good morrow, warm, rosy, and bright, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li>Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Good night, the silver stars are clear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>Go to Berwick, Johnnie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Go to him then if thou canst go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_300">300</a>.</li> + +<li>Grim winter was howlin' owre muir and owre mountain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Guid night and joy be wi' ye a', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_114">114</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Had I the wings of a dove I would fly, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Hae ye been in the north, bonnie lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_308">308</a>.</li> + +<li>Hail to the chief who in triumph advances, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_295">295</a>.</li> + +<li>Hark, hark, the skylark singing, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Hark, the martial drums resound, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_164">164</a>.</li> + +<li>Haste all ye fairy elves hither to me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Heard ye the bagpipe or saw ye the banners, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Heart, take courage, 'tis not worthy, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_9">9</a>.</li> + +<li>Heaven speed the righteous sword, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Hech, what a change hae we now in this toun, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Hech, hey, the mirth that was there, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>He left his native land, and far away, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>He loved her for her merry eyes, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Here 's to them, to them that are gane, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Her eyes were red with weeping, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Here we go upon the tide, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Here 's to the year that 's awa', vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Her hair was like the Cromla mist, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Her lip is o' the rose's hue, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Hersell pe auchty years and twa, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>He is gone, he is gone, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_240">240</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's gone on the mountain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_299">299</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's no more on the green hill, he has left the wide forest, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>He sorrowfu' sat by the ingle cheek, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_138">138</a>.</li> + +<li>He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_211">211</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_264" id="vol6Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></li> + +<li>Hey for the Hielan' heather, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Hey, my bonnie wee lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li>Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Hope cannot cheat us, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>How blest were the days o' langsyne, when a laddie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>How blithely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_26">26</a>.</li> + +<li>How brightly beams the bonnie moon, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>How eerily, how drearily, how eerily to pine, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>How happy a life does the parson possess, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>How happy lives the peasant by his ain fireside, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>How often death art waking, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_321">321</a>.</li> + +<li>How pleasant, how pleasant to wander away, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet are Leven's silver streams, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet are the blushes of morn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet is the scene at the waking of morning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet the dewy bell is spread, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_259">259</a>.</li> + +<li>How sweet thy modest light to view, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurra! for the land o' the broom-cover'd brae, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_103">103</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for the Highlands, the brave Scottish Highlands, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah for the Thistle, the brave Scottish Thistle, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah, hurrah for the boundless sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Hurrah, hurrah, we 've glory won, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Hush, ye songsters, day is done, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_159">159</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>I ask no lordling's titled name, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>I canna leave my native land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>I canna sleep a wink, lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>I cannot give thee all my heart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>I dream'd thou wert a fairy harp, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_29">29</a>.</li> + +<li>If Fortune with a smiling face, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>I fleet along, and the empires fall, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I fly from the fold since my passion's despair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_316">316</a>.</li> + +<li>I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>If there 's a word that whispers love, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>If wealth thou art wooing, or title, or fame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_7">7</a>.</li> + +<li>I gaed to spend a week in Fife, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>I hae naebody noo, I hae naebody noo, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>I have wander'd afar, 'neath stranger skies, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>I heard a wee bird singing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li>I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts amang, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>I lately lived in quiet ease, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>I like to spring in the morning bricht, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll no be had for naething, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll no walk by the kirk, mother, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll sing of yon glen of red heather, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_74">74</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_265" id="vol6Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></li> + +<li>I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll think on thee, Love, when thy bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'll twine a gowany garland, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>I love a sweet lassie, mair gentle and true, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the free ridge of the mountain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the merry moonlight, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li>I love the sea, I love the sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_162">162</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>I mark'd her look of agony, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm a very little man, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm away, I 'm away like a thing that is wild, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm naebody noo, though in days that are gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm now a guid farmer, I 've acres o' land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm wand'rin' wide this wintry night, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>I 'm wearin' awa', John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>I met four chaps yon birks amang, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>In a dream of the night I was wafted away, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>In a howm, by a burn, where the brown birks grow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>In all its rich wildness her home she is leaving, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>In a saft simmer gloamin', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>In distant years when other arms, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>I neither got promise of siller nor land, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>I never thocht to thole the waes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>In her chamber, vigil keeping, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>In life's gay morn, when hopes beat high, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li>In that home was joy and sorrow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>In the morning of life, when its sunny smile, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>I pray for you of your courtesy, before we further move, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>I remember the time, thou roaring sea, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>Isabel Mackay is with the milk kye, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_318">318</a>.</li> + +<li>I sat in the vale 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>I saw my true love first on the banks of queenly Tay, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>I see, I see the Hirta, the land of my desire, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>I see the wretch of high degree, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_315">315</a>.</li> + +<li>Is not the earth a burial-place, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>I sing of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Is our Helen very fair, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>It fell on a morning when we were thrang, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>It has long been my fate to be thought in the wrong, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>It 's dowie in the hint o' hairst, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>It 's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>It was an English ladye bright, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_289">289</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've listened to the midnight wind, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've a guinea I can spend, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_22">22</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_266" id="vol6Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></li> + +<li>I 've been upon the moonlit deep, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_296">296</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've met wi' mony maidens fair, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've no sheep on the mountain nor boat on the lake, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've rocked me on the giddy mast, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've seen the lily of the wold, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've seen the smiling summer flower, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>I wadna gi'e my ain wife, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>I walk'd by mysel' owre the sweet braes o' Yarrow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_86">86</a>.</li> + +<li>I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>I warn you, fair maidens, to wail and to sigh, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>I will sing a song of summer, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>I will wake my harp when the shades of even, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_170">170</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna bide in your castle ha's, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna gang back to my minny again, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_248">248</a>.</li> + +<li>I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>I wish I were where Helen lies, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_111">111</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Jenny's heart was frank and free, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>John Anderson, my jo, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Joy of my earliest days, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_203">203</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li>Lane on the winding Earn there stands, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>Lassie wi' the gowden hair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li>Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>Leave the city's busy throng, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>Let ither anglers choose their ain, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>Let the maids of the Lowlands, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Let us go, lassie, go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Life's pleasure seems sadness and care, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>Liking is a little boy, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_120">120</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_267" id="vol6Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></li> + +<li>Listen to me, as when ye heard our father, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Look up, old friend, why hang thy head, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Lord Ronald came to his lady's bower, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_181">181</a>.</li> + +<li>Loudon's bonnie woods and braes, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>Love flies the haunts of pomp and power, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>Love is timid, love is shy, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Loved land of my kindred, farewell, and for ever, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>Lowland lassie, wilt thou go, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_151">151</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>'Mang a' the lasses young and braw, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Meet me on the gowan lea, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Meg muckin' at Geordie's byre, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Men of England, who inherit, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Mourn for the mighty dead, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_21">21</a>.</li> + +<li>Mournfully, oh, mournfully, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Musing, we sat in our garden bower, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li>My beauty dark, my glossy bright, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_347">347</a>.</li> + +<li>My beauty of the shieling, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>My Bessie, oh, but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>My bonnie wee Bell was a mitherless bairn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>My brothers are the stately trees, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>My brown dairy, brown dairy, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_327">327</a>.</li> + +<li>My couthie auld wife, aye blithsome to see, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>My darling is the philabeg, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>My dearest, wilt thou follow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_252">252</a>.</li> + +<li>My dear little lassie, why, what 's the matter? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li>My hawk is tired of perch and hood, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_298">298</a>.</li> + +<li>My lassie is lovely, as May-day adorning, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>My love, come let us wander, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>My love 's in Germanie, send him hame, send him hame, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>My luve 's a flower in garden fair, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>My mother bids me bind my hair, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>My mountain hame, my mountain hame, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>My name it is Donald M'Donald, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>My native land, my native land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>My soul is ever with thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>My spirit could its vigil hold, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_152">152</a>.</li> + +<li>My tortured bosom long shall feel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>My wife 's a winsome wee thing, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_299">299</a>.</li> + +<li>My young heart's luve! twal' years hae been, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_259">259</a>.</li> + +<li>My young, my fair, my fair-haired Mary, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_335">335</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_268" id="vol6Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Nae mair we 'll meet again, my love, by yon burn-side, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Name the leaves on all the trees, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li>Never despair! when the dark cloud is lowering, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Night turns to day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>No homeward scene near me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>No more by thy margin, dark Carron, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>No one knows what silent secrets, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>No sound was heard o'er the broom-covered valley, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_86">86</a>.</li> + +<li>Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Now bank and brae are clad in green, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Now, Jenny lass, my bonnie bird, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Now, Mary, now, the struggle 's o'er, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Now rests the red sun in his caves of the ocean, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Now simmer decks the field wi' flowers, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_304">304</a>.</li> + +<li>Now smiling summer's balmy breeze, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Now summer shines with gaudy pride, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Now the beams of May morn, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Now there 's peace on the shore, now there 's calm on the sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>Now winter wi' his cloudy brow, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Now winter's wind sweeps o'er the mountains, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_165">165</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Oh! are ye sleeping, Maggie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! away to the Tweed, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, beautiful and bright thou art, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_197">197</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, blessing on her star-like e'en, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! blessing on thee, land, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie are the howes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie buds yon birchen-tree, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_240">240</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie Nelly Brown, I will sing a song to thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bonnie 's the lily that blooms in the valley, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, brave Caledonians, my brothers, my friends, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, bright the beaming queen o' night, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, Charlie is my darling, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, come my bonnie bark, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, come with me for the queen of night, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>October winds wi' biting breath, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>O dear, dear to me, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! dear to my heart are my heather-clad mountains, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! dear were the joys that are past, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna be sae sair cast down, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna cross the burn, Willie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, dinna look ye pridefu' doon on a' beneath your ken, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_204">204</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_269" id="vol6Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></li> + +<li>Oh, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I 'm gaun to leave thee, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, distant, but dear, is that sweet island wherein, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>O'er mountain and valley, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Of learning long a scantling was the portion of the Gael, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_295">295</a>.</li> + +<li>Of Nelson and the north, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Of streams that down the valley run, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, gentle sleep wilt thou lay thy head, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, grand bounds the deer o'er the mountain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk-tree's shade, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_269">269</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo! vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>O hi', O hu', she 's sad for scolding, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_125">125</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, how I love the evening hour, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! I have traversed lands afar, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! I lo'ed my lassie weel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>O June, ye spring the loveliest flowers, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lady, twine no wreath for me, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_302">302</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! I lo'e dearest, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! if thou 'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! wilt thou gang wi' me, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, lassie! wilt thou go? vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>Old Scotland, I love thee, thou 'rt dearer to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, leave me not! the evening hour, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_74">74</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, leeze me on the bonnie lass, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, many a true Highlander, many a liegeman, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_280">280</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, merrily and gallantly, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mind ye the ewe-bughts, Marion, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_56">56</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mony a turn of woe and weal, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_347">347</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, mony a year has come and gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my lassie, our joy to complete again, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my love, leave me not, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! my love 's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! my love is very lovely, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_8">8</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, my love was fair as the siller clud, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Once more in the Highlands I wander alone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, neighbours! what had I to do for to marry? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>On, on to the fields where of old, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_56">56</a>.</li> + +<li>On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_270" id="vol6Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></li> + +<li>On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_173">173</a>.</li> + +<li>On the greensward lay William in anguish extended, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>On the banks o' the burn, while I pensively wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_316">316</a>.</li> + +<li>On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>On this unfrequented plain, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>O our childhood's once delightful hours, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>Or ere we part, my heart leaps hie to sing ae bonnie sang, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sarely may I rue the day, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sair I feel the witching power, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, saw ye this sweet, bonnie lassie o' mine, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_271">271</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say na you maun gang awa, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not life is ever drear, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not o' war the young soldier is weary, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_214">214</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not 'tis the March wind, 'tis a fiercer blast that drives, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_293">293</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! say not, my love, with that mortified air, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_305">305</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, some will tune their mournful strain, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>O sweet is the blossom o' the hawthorn-tree, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>O sweet is the calm, dewy gloamin', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_247">247</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, sweet were the hours, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, swiftly bounds our gallant bark, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>O tell me, bonnie young lassie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, that I were the shaw in, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_329">329</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, the auld house, the auld house! vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_19">19</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the happy time departed, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the sunny peaches glow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>O these are not my country's hills, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie, blue sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_242">242</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, there 's naebody hears Widow Miller complain, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Our ain native land, our ain native land, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, tuneful voice, I still deplore, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li>Our Mary liket weel to stray, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li>Our minstrels a', frae south to north, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Our native land, our native vale, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Ours is the land of gallant hearts, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_51">51</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_271" id="vol6Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></li> + +<li>Oh, wae be to the orders that march'd my love awa, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! wae's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, wae 's my life, and sad my heart, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, waft me to the fairy clime, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, we aft hae met at e'en, bonnie Peggie, O! vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel's me on my ain man, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_204">204</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel befa' the maiden gay, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! we hae been amang the bowers that winter didna bare, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, wha 's at the window, wha, wha, wha? vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, what are the chains of love made of, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, what care I where Love was born, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! what is in this flaunting town, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where are the pretty men of yore, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where has the exile his home, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! why left I my hame, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>O! why should old age so much wound us, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! will ye go to yon burn-side, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! will ye walk the wood wi' me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh! years hae come an' years hae gane, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li>Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_290">290</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Peace be upon their banners, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Phœbus, wi' gowden crest, leaves ocean's heaving breast, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>Preserve us a' what shall we do, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>Put off, put off, and row with speed, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_179">179</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Quoth Rab to Kate, My sonsy clear, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_94">94</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Raise high the battle-song, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Red gleams the sun on yon hill tap, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>Reft the charm of the social shell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Removed from vain fashion, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>Returning Spring, with gladsome ray, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, little star, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, my love! the moon unclouded, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>Rise, rise, Lowland and Highlandman, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_115">115</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_272" id="vol6Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></li> + +<li>Rise, Romans, rise at last, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>Rising o'er the heaving billow, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_29">29</a>.</li> + +<li>Robin is my ain gudeman, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_52">52</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Saw ye Johnnie comin', quo' she, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>Saw ye my Annie, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Saw ye nae my Peggie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_251">251</a>.</li> + +<li>Scotia's thistle guards the grave, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>See the moon o'er cloudless Jura, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>See the winter clouds around, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Send a horse to the water, ye 'll no mak him drink, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_219">219</a>.</li> + +<li>Shadows of glory, the twilight is parting, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Shall I leave thee, thou land to my infancy dear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>She died, as die the roses, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_256">256</a>.</li> + +<li>She died in beauty, like a rose, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li>She 's aff and awa, like the lang simmer day, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>She 's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_9">9</a>.</li> + +<li>She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>Should my numbers essay to enliven a lay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_352">352</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing a' ye bards wi' loud acclaim, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_139">139</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing not to me of sunny shores, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing on, fairy Devon, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Sing on, thou little bird, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_286">286</a>.</li> + +<li>Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>Soldier, rest! thy warfare 's o'er, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Songs of my native land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Star of descending night, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Stay, proud bird of the shore, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li>St Leonard's hill was lightsome land, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>Sublime is Scotia's mountain land, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Summer ocean, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Surrounded wi' bent and wi' heather, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_75">75</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet 's the gloamin's dusky gloom, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet 's the dew-deck'd rose in June, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_101">101</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet summer now is by, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Talk not of temples—there is one, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_152">152</a>.</li> + +<li>Taste life's glad moments, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Tell me, Jessie, tell me why? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_122">122</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_273" id="vol6Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></li> + +<li>Tell me, dear! in mercy speak, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>The auld meal mill, oh! the auld meal mill, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>The bard strikes his harp the wild valleys among, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>The bard strikes his harp the wild woods among, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>The beacons blazed, the banners flew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li>The best o' joys maun hae an end, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>The blackbird's hymn is sweet, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonnie, bonnie bairn, sits pokin' in the ase, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonnie rowan bush, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>The bonniest lass in a' the warld, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>The breath o' spring is gratefu', vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>The bride she is winsome and bonnie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>The cantie spring scarce reared her head, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>The cranreuch's on my head, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>The dark gray o' gloamin', vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li>The dawn is breaking, but lonesome and eerie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>The dreary reign of winter's past, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_55">55</a>.</li> + +<li>The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>The fairies are dancing, how nimbly they bound, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_26">26</a>.</li> + +<li>The fields, the streams, the skies, are fair, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_267">267</a>.</li> + +<li>The gathering clans 'mong Scotia's glens, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloamin' star was showerin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloom of dark despondency, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_193">193</a>.</li> + +<li>The gloomy days are gone, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>The golden smile of morning, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>The gowan glitters on the sward, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>The happy days of yore, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>The harvest morn breaks, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>The hawk whoops on high, and keen, keen from yon cliff, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The heath this night must be my bed, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_297">297</a>.</li> + +<li>The Highland hills, there are songs of mirth, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The ingle cheek is bleezin' bricht, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_235">235</a>.</li> + +<li>Their nest was in the leafy bush, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>The king is on his throne, wi' his sceptre an' his croon, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>The laird o' Cockpen, he 's proud and he 's great, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>The lake is at rest, love, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>The lark has left the evening cloud, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_10">10</a>.</li> + +<li>The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin', vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>The lily of the vale is sweet, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>The little comer 's coming, the comer o'er the sea, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>The loved of early days, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_93">93</a>.</li> + +<li>The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_130">130</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_274" id="vol6Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></li> + +<li>The maid is at the altar kneeling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>The maid who wove the rosy wreath, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>The midges dance aboon the burn, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li>The mitherless lammie ne'er miss'd its ain mammie, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon shone in fits, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li>The moon was a waning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>The mother with her blooming child, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>The music of the night, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li>The music o' the year is hush'd, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>The neighbours a' they wonder how, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_293">293</a>.</li> + +<li>The night winds Eolian breezes, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_265">265</a>.</li> + +<li>The noble otter hill, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_337">337</a>.</li> + +<li>The oak is Britain's pride, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>The parting kiss, the soft embrace, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>The primrose is bonnie in spring, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_209">209</a>.</li> + +<li>There grew in bonnie Scotland, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>There grows a bonnie brier-bush in our kail-yard, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a bonnie blushing flower, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_256">256</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a concert in the trees, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>There is a pang for every heart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>There is music in the storm, love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>There lived a lass in Inverness, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li>There lives a lassie i' the braes, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>There lives a young lassie, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's a thrill of emotion, half painful, half sweet, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_48">48</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's high and low, there 's rich and poor, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's mony a flower beside the rose, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's music in the flowing tide, there 's music in the air, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's music in a mother's voice, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_51">51</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae covenant noo, lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_228">228</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nae love like early love, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>There 's some can be happy and bide whar they are, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>There was a musician wha play'd a good stick, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_271">271</a>.</li> + +<li>The rosebud blushing to the morn, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>The Rover o' Lochryan, he 's gane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>The Scotch blue bell, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>The season comes when first we met, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li>The sea, the deep, deep sea, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>The shadows of evening fall silent around, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_146">146</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_275" id="vol6Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></li> + +<li>The sky in beauty arch'd, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>The skylark sings his matin lay, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>The soldier waves the shining sword, the shepherd-boy his crook; vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>The spring comes back to woo the earth, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>The storm grew faint as daylight tinged, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_175">175</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun-down had mantled Ben Nevis with night vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun hadna peep'd frae behint the dark billow, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun is sunk, the day is done, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>The sunny days are come, my love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_305">305</a>.</li> + +<li>The tears I shed must ever fall, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li>The tempest is raging, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>The troops were all embarked on board, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li>The weary sun 's gane down the west, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_154">154</a>.</li> + +<li>The widow is feckless, the widow 's alane, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_200">200</a>.</li> + +<li>The wild rose blooms in Drummond woods, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>The women are a' gane wud, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>The year is wearing to an end, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>They 're stepping off, the friends I knew, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +<li>They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li>They tell me first and early love, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou bonnie wood o' Craigie Lee, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_164">164</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou gentle and kind one, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou hast left me, dear Dermot, to cross the wide sea, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>Though all fair was that bosom heaving white, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li>Though long the wanderer may depart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_225">225</a>.</li> + +<li>Though richer swains thy love pursue, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>Though siller Tweed rin o'er the Lea, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_104">104</a>.</li> + +<li>Though the winter of age wreathes her snow on his head, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Though this wild brain is aching, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I lo'e thee weel, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li>Thou morn full of beauty, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>Through Crockstoun Castle's lanely wa's, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li>Thus sang the minstrel Cormack, his anguish to beguile, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_275">275</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_244">244</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy queenly hand, Victoria, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>Thy wily eyes, my darling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_276" id="vol6Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></li> + +<li>'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis haena ye heard, man, o' Barrochan Jean, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_150">150</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis the first rose o' summer that opes to my view, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_264">264</a>.</li> + +<li>'Tis Yule! 'tis Yule! all eyes are bright, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li>Together, dearest, we have play'd, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>To live in cities, and to join, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_245">245</a>.</li> + +<li>Touch once more a sober measure, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>To Scotland's ancient realm, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_272">272</a>.</li> + +<li>To wander lang in foreign lands, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_210">210</a>.</li> + +<li>True love is water'd aye wi' tears, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li>Trust not these seas again, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li>Tuck, tuck, feer—from the green and growing leaves, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas a balmy summer gloamin', vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas on a Monday morning, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas on a simmer afternoon, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas when December's dark'ning scowl the face of heaven o'ercast, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_239">239</a>.</li> + +<li>'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_314">314</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Up with the dawn, ye sons of toil, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_142">142</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Waken, lords and ladies gay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_304">304</a>.</li> + +<li>Walkin' out ae mornin' early, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>Warlike chieftains now assembled, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Weep away, heart, weep away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Weep not over poet's wrong, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li>Welcome, pretty little stranger, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>We 'll meet beside the dusky glen on yon burn-side, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li>We 'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>We part, yet wherefore should I weep, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li>Were I a doughty cavalier, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Were I but able to rehearse, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li>We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>Wha 'll buy caller herrin', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Whan Jamie first woo'd me he was but a youth, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Whare hae ye been a' day, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_83">83</a>.</li> + +<li>What ails my heart—what dims my e'e? vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>What ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain? vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>What are the flowers of Scotland, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>What fond, delicious ecstasy does early love impart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>What makes this hour a day to me? vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>What though ye hae nor kith nor kin, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_238">238</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_277" id="vol6Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></li> + +<li>What 's this vain world to me, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li>What wakes the poet's lyre, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li>When autumn comes and heather bells, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_132">132</a>.</li> + +<li>When Charlie to the Highlands came, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>When cities of old days, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>When first I cam' to be a man, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_13">13</a>.</li> + +<li>When fops and fools together prate, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>When friendship, love, and truth abound, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>When hope lies dead within the heart, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +<li>When I began the world first, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li>When I look far down on the valley below me, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>When I think on the lads and the land I hae left, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_307">307</a>.</li> + +<li>When I was a miller in Fife, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>When Katie was scarce out nineteen, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li>When loud the horn is sounding, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>When merry hearts were gay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lyin' a' at rest, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>When rosy day far in the west has vanish'd frae the scene, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>When sets the sun o'er Lomond's height, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li>When shall we meet again, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>When the bee has left the blossom, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>When the fair one and the dear one, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>When the glen all is still save the stream of the fountain, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>When the lark is in the air, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_270">270</a>.</li> + +<li>When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li>When the sheep are in the fauld, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_64">64</a>.</li> + +<li>When the star of the morning is set, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>When the sun gaes down, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>When thy smile was still clouded, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>When we meet again, Lisette, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li>When white was my owrelay, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li>When winter winds forget to blaw, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_268">268</a>.</li> + +<li>Where Manor's stream rins blithe an' clear, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_262">262</a>.</li> + +<li>Where shall the lover rest, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Where the faded flower shall freshen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Where windin' Tarf, by broomy knowes, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>While beaux and belles parade the street, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_213">213</a>.</li> + +<li>While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_303">303</a>.</li> + +<li>Why does the day whose date is brief, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Why gaze on that pale face, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Why is my spirit sad, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_41">41</a>.</li> + +<li>Why tarries my love, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an a', vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_226">226</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_278" id="vol6Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></li> + +<li>Wifie, come hame, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Wi' heart sincere I love thee, Bell, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Will ye gang o'er the lea rig, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_202">202</a>.</li> + +<li>Will ye go to the Highlands, my Mary, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li>Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li>Winter's cauld and cheerless blast, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>With a breezy burst of singing, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_285">285</a>.</li> + +<li>With drooping heart he turn'd away, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Within the towers of ancient Glammis, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>With laughter swimming in thine eye, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>With lofty song we love to cheer, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_23">23</a>.</li> + +<li>Would that I were where wild woods wave, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Would you be young again? vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_235">235</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ye briery bields, where roses blaw, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye daisied glens and briery braes, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_208">208</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye dark, rugged rocks that recline o'er the deep, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye hameless glens and waving woods, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye have cross'd o'er the wave from the glades where I roved, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye ken whaur yon wee burnie, love, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye mariners of England, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_262">262</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye needna be courtin' at me, auld man, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>Yes, the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Yestreen, as I strayed on the banks o' the Clyde, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li>Yestreen, on Cample's bonnie flood, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_21">21</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin', vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Yon old temple pile, where the moon dimly flashes, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Young Donald, dearer loved than life, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_113">113</a>.</li> + +<li>Young Love once woo'd a budding rose, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_64">64</a></li> + +<li>Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>You 've surely heard of famous Neil, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_86">86</a>.</li></ul> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_279" id="vol6Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol6INDEX_OF_AUTHORS" id="vol6INDEX_OF_AUTHORS"></a>INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Affleck, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li>Ainslie, Hew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li>Aird, Marion Paul, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_258">258</a>.</li> + +<li>Aird, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Allan, George, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>Allan, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li>Anderson, Rev. J. G. Torry, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_158">158</a>.</li> + +<li>Anderson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_178">178</a>.</li> + +<li>Atkinson, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_122">122</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Baillie, Joanna, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Bald, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li>Balfour, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_101">101</a>.</li> + +<li>Ballantine, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li>Barnard, Lady Ann, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_58">58</a>.</li> + +<li>Bell, Henry Glassford, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>Bennet, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li>Bennoch, Francis, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Bethune, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Bethune, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_203">203</a>.</li> + +<li>Blackie, John Stuart, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_109">109</a>.</li> + +<li>Blair, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_82">82</a>.</li> + +<li>Bonar, Horatius, D.D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li>Boswell, Sir Alex., Bart., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_204">204</a>.</li> + +<li>Brockie, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, Colin Rae, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_159">159</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_286">286</a>.</li> + +<li>Brown, Thomas., M.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_278">278</a>.</li> + +<li>Brydson, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_172">172</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchanan, Alexander, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchanan, Dugald, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_322">322</a>.</li> + +<li>Buchan, Peter, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_162">162</a>.</li> + +<li>Burns, James D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_224">224</a>.</li> + +<li>Burtt, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_46">46</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Cadenhead, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li>Cameron, William, senr., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>Cameron, William, junr., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_146">146</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, Alexander, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Campbell, Thomas, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>Carlile, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_252">252</a>.</li> + +<li>Cathcart, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_94">94</a>.</li> + +<li>Chalmers, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_285">285</a>.</li> + +<li>Chambers, Robert, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li>Conolly, Erskine, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Couper, Robert, M.D., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li>Craig, Isabella, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, Archibald, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Crawford, Margaret, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_205">205</a>.</li> + +<li>Cunningham, Allan, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Cunningham, Thomas Mounsey, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_223">223</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Davidson, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li>Denovan, J. C., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Dick, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li>Dickson, John Bathurst, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Dobie, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li>Dodds, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li>Donald, George, sen., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li>Donald, George, jun., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Douglas, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li>Drummond, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li>Dudgeon, William, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Dunbar, William, D.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li>Duncan, Henry, D.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li>Dunlop, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li>Duthie, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_187">187</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_280" id="vol6Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Elliott, Thomas, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_141">141</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ferguson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, John, senr., vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, John, junr., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlay, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_166">166</a>.</li> + +<li>Finlayson, Charles James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_49">49</a>.</li> + +<li>Fleming, Charles, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Fletcher, Angus, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_292">292</a>.</li> + +<li>Foster, William Air, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Fraser, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_252">252</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Gall, Richard, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Gardiner, William, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Gibson, Allan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li>Gilfillan, Robert, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Gillespie, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Glen, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_126">126</a>.</li> + +<li>Goldie, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Gordon, Alexander, Duke of, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_46">46</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Joseph, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Mrs, of Carron, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Grant, Mrs, of Laggan, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li>Gray, Charles, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li>Grieve, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_43">43</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Halliday, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li>Hamilton, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li>Hedderwick, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li>Henderson, George, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li>Henderson, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li>Hendry, Robert, M.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li>Hetherington, William, D.D., LL.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_185">185</a>.</li> + +<li>Hislop, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>Hogg, James, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>Hogg, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li>Home, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_267">267</a>.</li> + +<li>Hume, Alexander, sen., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li>Hume, Alexander, jun., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_276">276</a>.</li> + +<li>Hunter, Mrs John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_39">39</a>.</li> + +<li>Hunter, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_119">119</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Imlah, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li>Inglis, Henry, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_59">59</a>.</li> + +<li>Inglis, Mrs Margaret M., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>Irving, Archibald Stirling, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_235">235</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Jamieson, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li>Jamieson, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Jamie, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_96">96</a>.</li> + +<li>Jeffrey, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Jerdan, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_30">30</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Kennedy, Duncan, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_284">284</a>.</li> + +<li>King, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_83">83</a>.</li> + +<li>Knox, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_112">112</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Laidlaw, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_310">310</a>.</li> + +<li>Laing, Alexander, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Latto, Thomas C., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li>Leighton, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li>Lewis, Stuart, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_27">27</a>.</li> + +<li>Leyden, John, M.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_191">191</a>.</li> + +<li>Little, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li>Lochore, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Lockhart, John Gibson, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Logan, William, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Lyle, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_261">261</a>.</li> + +<li>Lyon, Mrs Agnes, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_84">84</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Macansh, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>Macarthur, Mrs Mary, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Charles, LL.D., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Coll, Evan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Diarmid, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_155">155</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, Alexander, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_321">321</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, John, sen., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_281">281</a>.</li> + +<li>Macdonald, John, jun., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_254">254</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Dougall, Allan, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_287">287</a>.</li> + +<li>Macfarlan, Duncan, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_249">249</a>.</li> + +<li>Macfarlan, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li>Macgregor, James, D.D., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_294">294</a>.</li> + +<li>Macgregor, Joseph, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li>Macindoe, George, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li>Macintyre, Duncan, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_334">334</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Archibald, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Robert, sen., vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_309">309</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackay, Robert, jun., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_349">349</a>.</li> + +<li>Mackenzie, Kenneth, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_290">290</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Lachlan, Alexander, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_80">80</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Lachlan, Evan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_279">279</a>.</li> + +<li>Maclagan, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_226">226</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_281" id="vol6Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></li> + +<li>Maclagan, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_282">282</a>.</li> + +<li>Maclardy, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_171">171</a>.</li> + +<li>M'Laren, William, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Macleod, Norman, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_355">355</a>.</li> + +<li>Macneill, Hector, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_73">73</a>.</li> + +<li>Macodrum, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_351">351</a>.</li> + +<li>Macvurich, Lachlan, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_279">279</a>.</li> + +<li>Malcolm, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_215">215</a>.</li> + +<li>Malone, Robert L., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li>Manson, James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_61">61</a>.</li> + +<li>Marshall, Charles, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_97">97</a>.</li> + +<li>Mathers, Thomas, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li>Mayne, John, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_107">107</a>.</li> + +<li>Menzies, George, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_223">223</a>.</li> + +<li>Mercer, Andrew, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, Hugh, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li>Miller, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_274">274</a>.</li> + +<li>Mitchell, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_90">90</a>.</li> + +<li>Moir, David Macbeth, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_24">24</a>.</li> + +<li>Montgomery, James, vol. i., <a href="#vol1Page_247">247</a>.</li> + +<li>Moore, Dugald, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li>Morrison, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_346">346</a>.</li> + +<li>Motherwell, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li>Muirhead, James, D.D., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Munro, John, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_251">251</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Nairn, Carolina, Baroness, vol. i., 184.</li> + +<li>Nevay, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_257">257</a>.</li> + +<li>Nicholson, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li>Nicol, James, vol. i., 24.</li> + +<li>Nicoll, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_225">225</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ogilvy, Mrs Eliza H., vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Outram, George, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_54">54</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Pagan, Isobel, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li>Park, Andrew, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_248">248</a>.</li> + +<li>Part, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_97">97</a>.</li> + +<li>Parker, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li>Paul, Hamilton, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li>Picken, Ebenezer, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_22">22</a>.</li> + +<li>Polin, Edward, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li>Pollok, Robert, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_103">103</a>.</li> + +<li>Pringle, James, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_176">176</a>.</li> + +<li>Pringle, Thomas, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_102">102</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Ramsay, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li>Reid, William, vol. i., 153.</li> + +<li>Richardson, Mrs E. G., vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_255">255</a>.</li> + +<li>Riddell, Henry Scott, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_7">7</a>.</li> + +<li>Riddell, William B. C., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li>Ritchie, Alexander A., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li>Robertson, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li>Rodger, Alexander, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>Roger, Peter, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_212">212</a>.</li> + +<li>Ross, William, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_271">271</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Scadlock, James, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_199">199</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Andrew, vol. i., 260.</li> + +<li>Scott, George, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_253">253</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Patrick, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li>Scott, Sir Walter, vol. i., 275.</li> + +<li>Sillery, Charles Doyne, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li>Sim, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li>Simpson, Mrs Jane C, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_241">241</a>.</li> + +<li>Sinclair, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_263">263</a>.</li> + +<li>Skinner, John, vol. i., 1.</li> + +<li>Smart, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li>Smibert, Thomas, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_195">195</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Allan, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Charles, D.D., vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_289">289</a>.</li> + +<li>Stewart, Mrs Dugald, vol. i., 167.</li> + +<li>Still, Peter, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Stirling, William, M.P., vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li>Stirrat, James, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_40">40</a>.</li> + +<li>Stoddart, Thomas Tod, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li>Struthers, John, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_235">235</a>.</li> + +<li>Stuart, John Roy, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_340">340</a>.</li> + +<li>Symington, Andrew James, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_176">176</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Tait, Alexander, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li>Tait, John, vol. i., 70.</li> + +<li>Tannahill, Robert, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li>Taylor, David, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_92">92</a>.</li> + +<li>Telfer, James, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_273">273</a>.</li> + +<li>Thomson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li>Train, Joseph, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_288">288</a>.</li> + +<li>Tweedie, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_120">120</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Vedder, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_143">143</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Watson, Thomas, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_189">189</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol6Page_282" id="vol6Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></li> + +<li>Watson, Walter, vol. ii., <a href="#vol2Page_302">302</a>.</li> + +<li>Webster, David, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li>Weir, Daniel, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li>White, Robert, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Alexander, vol. i., 172.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Alexander Stephen, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_192">192</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, George, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, John, vol. iii., <a href="#vol3Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, Robert, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li>Wilson, William, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li>Wright, John, vol. iv., <a href="#vol4Page_137">137</a>.</li></ul> + +<ul class='IX'><li>Young, Thomas, vol. vi., <a href="#vol6Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li>Younger, John, vol. v., <a href="#vol5Page_42">42</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_1_1" id="vol6Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Thomas of Ercildoune, better known as the Rhymer, lived in +the reign of Alexander III. No lyric of his composition has been +preserved.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_2_2" id="vol6Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The ballads of Professor Aytoun, it is hardly necessary to +remark, would have been an ornament to any age.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_3_3" id="vol6Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 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."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_4_4" id="vol6Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> 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.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_5_5" id="vol6Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The present Memoir has been prepared, at our request, by +Francis Bennoch, Esq.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_6_6" id="vol6Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> A beautiful sylvan stream, falling from the uplands into +the Annan, between Ecclefechan and Lockerbie.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_7_7" id="vol6Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This facetious composition, in the original form, extends +to considerably greater length.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_8_8" id="vol6Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Printed from the Author's MS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_9_9" id="vol6Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Written for the present work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_10_10" id="vol6Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Written for the present work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_11_11" id="vol6Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The present Memoir has been contributed by James +Donaldson, Esq., Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_12_12" id="vol6Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> See "Minstrel," vol. iv. p. <a href="#vol4Page_1">1</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_13_13" id="vol6Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Composed in the author's fourteenth year.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_14_14" id="vol6Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Composed at the age of fifteen.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_15_15" id="vol6Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, the King's Advocate.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol6Footnote_16_16" id="vol6Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol6FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> For Biographical Sketch, see p. <a href="#vol6Page_222">222</a>.</p></div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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