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diff --git a/18396-h/18396-h.htm b/18396-h/18396-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c55d6f --- /dev/null +++ b/18396-h/18396-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14215 @@ +<!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"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume I., by Charles Rogers, LL.D. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + 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%; + } + ul.TOC { /* styling the Table of Contents */ + list-style-type: none; 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Modern Scottish Minstrel , Volume I. + The Songs of Scotland of the past half century + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles Rogers + +Release Date: May 15, 2006 [EBook #18396] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Susan Skinner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.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/frontispiece.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="Page_ii" id="Page_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="Page_iii" id="Page_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="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="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="Page_vi" id="Page_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="Page_vii" id="Page_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="Page_viii" id="Page_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="Page_ix" id="Page_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><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul class='TOC'> +<li><a href="#JOHN_SKINNER">JOHN SKINNER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#TULLOCHGORUM">Tullochgorum,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JOHN_O_BADENYON">John o' Badenyon,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_EWIE_WI_THE_CROOKIT_HORN">The ewie wi' the crookit horn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#O_WHY_SHOULD_OLD_AGE_SO_MUCH">O! why should old age so much wound us?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#STILL_IN_THE_WRONG">Still in the wrong,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LIZZY_LIBERTY">Lizzy Liberty,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_STIPENDLESS_PARSON">The stipendless parson,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAN_OF_ROSS">The man of Ross,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#A_SONG_ON_THE_TIMES">A song on the times,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#WILLIAM_CAMERON">WILLIAM CAMERON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#AS_OER_THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS_I_HIED">As o'er the Highland hills I hied,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#MRS_JOHN_HUNTER">MRS JOHN HUNTER,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_INDIAN_DEATH-SONG">The Indian death-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_MOTHER_BIDS_ME_BIND_MY_HAIR">My mother bids me bind my hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4">The flowers of the forest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_SEASON_COMES_WHEN_FIRST_WE_MET">The season comes when first we met,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_TUNEFUL_VOICE_I_STILL_DEPLORE">Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM">Dear to my heart as life's warm stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS">The lot of thousands,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON">ALEXANDER, DUKE OF GORDON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON">MRS GRANT OF CARRON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH">Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_COUPER_MD">ROBERT COUPER, M.D.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#KINRARA">Kinrara,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_SHEELING">The sheeling,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6">The ewe-bughts, Marion,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#LADY_ANNE_BARNARD">LADY ANNE BARNARD,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#AULD_ROBIN_GRAY">Auld Robin Gray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#Part_II">" " Part II.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SONG">Why tarries my love?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_TAIT">JOHN TAIT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_BANKS_OF_THE_DEE">The banks of the Dee,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#HECTOR_MACNEILL">HECTOR MACNEILL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12">Mary of Castlecary,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_BOY_TAMMY13">My boy, Tammy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14">Oh, tell me how for to woo,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LASSIE_WI_THE_GOWDEN_HAIR">Lassie wi' the gowden hair,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE">Come under my plaidie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15">I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#DONALD_AND_FLORA16">Donald and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18">My luve's in Germany,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19">Dinna think, bonnie lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN">MRS GRANT OF LAGGAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE">Oh, where, tell me where?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20">Oh, my love, leave me not,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_MAYNE">JOHN MAYNE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#LOGAN_BRAES23">Logan braes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24">Helen of Kirkconnel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG">The winter sat lang,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_JOHNNIE">My Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED">The troops were embarked,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_115">115</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_HAMILTON">JOHN HAMILTON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN">The rantin' Highlandman, </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25">Up in the mornin' early,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26">Go to Berwick, Johnnie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF">Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY">Tell me, Jessie, tell me why?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HAWTHORN">The hawthorn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27">Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOANNA_BAILLIE">JOANNA BAILLIE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN">The maid of Llanwellyn,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT">Good night, good night!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE">Though richer swains thy love pursue,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29">Poverty parts good companie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30">Fy, let us a' to the wedding,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31">Hooly and fairly,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW">The weary pund o' tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32">The wee pickle tow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD">The gowan glitters on the sward,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN">Saw ye Johnnie comin'?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33">It fell on a morning,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34">Woo'd, and married, and a',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#WILLIAM_DUDGEON">WILLIAM DUDGEON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS">Up among yon cliffy rocks,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#WILLIAM_REID">WILLIAM REID,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_LEA_RIG35">The lea rig,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36">John Anderson, my jo (a continuation), </a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER">Fair, modest flower,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#KATE_O_GOWRIE37">Kate o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38">Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_159">159</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL">ALEXANDER CAMPBELL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS">Now winter's wind sweeps,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_165">165</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH">The hawk whoops on high,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_166">166</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#MRS_DUGALD_STEWART">MRS DUGALD STEWART,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL">The tears I shed must ever fall,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40"> Returning spring, with gladsome ray,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_169">169</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_WILSON">ALEXANDER WILSON,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#CONNEL_AND_FLORA">Connel and Flora,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MATILDA">Matilda,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#AUCHTERTOOL43">Auchtertool,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_182">182</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_184">184</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_PLEUGHMAN47">The ploughman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#CALLER_HERRIN48">Caller herrin',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49">The land o' the leal,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50">The Laird o' Cockpen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING">Her home she is leaving,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD">The bonniest lass in a' the warld,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51">My ain kind dearie, O!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE">He 's lifeless amang the rude billows,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS">Joy of my earliest days,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN">Oh, weel's me on my ain man,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52">Kind Robin lo'es me</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE">Kitty Reid's house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_ROBINS_NEST">The robin's nest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_206">206</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53">Saw ye nae my Peggy?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A">Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_209">209</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54">Cauld kail in Aberdeen,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_210">210</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE">He 's ower the hills that I lo'e weel,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55">The lass o' Gowrie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56">There grows a bonnie brier bush,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JOHN_TOD">John Tod,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN">Will ye no come back again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JAMIE_THE_LAIRD">Jamie the laird,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_219">219</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND">Songs of my native land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#CASTELL_GLOOM58">Castell Gloom,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BONNIE_GASCON_HA">Bonnie Gascon Ha',</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_AULD_HOUSE">The auld house,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59">The hundred pipers,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_226">226</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60">The women are a' gane wud,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JEANIE_DEANS61">Jeanie Deans,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HEIRESS63">The heiress,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE">The mitherless lammie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64">The attainted Scottish nobles,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_232">232</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI">True love is watered aye wi' tears,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66">Ah, little did my mother think,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_234">234</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67">Would you be young again?</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#REST_IS_NOT_HERE">Rest is not here,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_236">236</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE">Here's to them that are gane,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL">Farewell, O farewell!</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_238">238</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE">The dead who have died in the Lord,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JAMES_NICOL">JAMES NICOL,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_240">240</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES">Blaw saftly, ye breezes,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM">By yon hoarse murmurin' stream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_242">242</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HALUCKIT_MEG">Haluckit Meg,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE">My dear little lassie,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_246">246</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JAMES_MONTGOMERY">JAMES MONTGOMERY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH">"Friendship, love, and truth,"</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A">The Swiss cowherd's song in a foreign land,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GERMAN_WAR-SONG69">German war-song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS">Via Crucis, via Lucis,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_255">255</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST">Verses to a robin-redbreast,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SLAVERY_THAT_WAS">Slavery that was,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_258">258</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ANDREW_SCOTT">ANDREW SCOTT,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_260">260</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND">Rural content, or the muirland farmer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_263">263</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SYMON_AND_JANET">Symon and Janet,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#COQUET_WATER">Coquet water,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE">The young maid's wish for peace,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW">The fiddler's widow,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF">Lament for the death of an Irish chief,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_272">272</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER">The departure of summer,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_273">273</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART">SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_275">275</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74">It was an English ladye bright,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LOCHINVAR75">Lochinvar,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_290">290</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76">Where shall the lover rest,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_294">294</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78">Hail to the chief who in triumph advances,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_295">295</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79">The heath this night must be my bed,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_297">297</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80">The imprisoned huntsman,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_298">298</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81">He is gone on the mountain,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_299">299</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82">A weary lot is thine, fair maid,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#ALLEN-A-DALE83">Allen-a-Dale,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_300">300</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84">The cypress wreath,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_302">302</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_CAVALIER85">The cavalier,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_303">303</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HUNTING_SONG86">Hunting song,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT">Oh, say not, my love, with that mortified air,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_315">315</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="#ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN">ROBERT MACKAY (ROB DONN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_309">309</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#THE_SONG_OF_WINTER">The song of winter,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_311">311</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN">Dirge for Ian Macechan,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER">The song of the forsaken drover,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE">Isabel Mackay—the maid alone,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_318">318</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#EVANS_ELEGY">Evan's Elegy,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_321">321</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><a href="#DOUGAL_BUCHANAN">DOUGAL BUCHANAN,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_322">322</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#A_CLAGIONN">A clagionn—the skull,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_326">326</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#AM_BRUADAR">Am bruadar—the dream,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_330">330</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#DUNCAN_MACINTYRE">DUNCAN MACINTYRE,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_334">334</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#MAIRI_BHAN_OG">Mairi bhān ōg (Mary, the young, the fair-haired),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_335">335</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT">Bendourain, the Otter Mount,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_336">336</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124">The bard to his musket,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_347">347</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_MACODRUM">JOHN MACODRUM,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_351">351</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#ORAN_NA_H-AOIS">Oran na h-aois (the song of age),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_352">352</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#NORMAN_MACLEOD">NORMAN MACLEOD (TORMAID BAN),</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_355">355</a></span></li> +<li><ul class='TOCSub'><li> <a href="#CABERFAE">Caberfae,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_357">357</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> +<li><a href="#GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class='tocright'><a href="#Page_363">363</a></span></li> +</ul> + + + + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_SKINNER" id="JOHN_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="Page_2" id="Page_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="Page_3" id="Page_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="Page_4" id="Page_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="Page_5" id="Page_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="Page_6" id="Page_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="Page_7" id="Page_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="Page_8" id="Page_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="Page_9" id="Page_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="Page_10" id="Page_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="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="TULLOCHGORUM" id="TULLOCHGORUM"></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="Page_12" id="Page_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="Page_13" id="Page_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="JOHN_O_BADENYON" id="JOHN_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="Page_14" id="Page_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="Page_15" id="Page_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="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_16" id="Page_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="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_EWIE_WI_THE_CROOKIT_HORN" id="THE_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="Page_18" id="Page_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="Page_19" id="Page_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="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="O_WHY_SHOULD_OLD_AGE_SO_MUCH" id="O_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="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_21" id="Page_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="Page_22" id="Page_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="STILL_IN_THE_WRONG" id="STILL_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="Page_23" id="Page_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="Page_24" id="Page_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="LIZZY_LIBERTY" id="LIZZY_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="Page_25" id="Page_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="Page_26" id="Page_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="Page_27" id="Page_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="Page_28" id="Page_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="THE_STIPENDLESS_PARSON" id="THE_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="Page_29" id="Page_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="Page_30" id="Page_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="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAN_OF_ROSS" id="THE_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="Page_32" id="Page_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="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="A_SONG_ON_THE_TIMES" id="A_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="Page_34" id="Page_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="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="WILLIAM_CAMERON" id="WILLIAM_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="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_36" id="Page_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="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="AS_OER_THE_HIGHLAND_HILLS_I_HIED" id="AS_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="Page_38" id="Page_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="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MRS_JOHN_HUNTER" id="MRS_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="Page_40" id="Page_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="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_DEATH-SONG" id="THE_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="MY_MOTHER_BIDS_ME_BIND_MY_HAIR" id="MY_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="Page_42" id="Page_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="THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4" id="THE_FLOWERS_OF_THE_FOREST4"></a>THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_43" id="Page_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="THE_SEASON_COMES_WHEN_FIRST_WE_MET" id="THE_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="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="OH_TUNEFUL_VOICE_I_STILL_DEPLORE" id="OH_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="DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM" id="DEAR_TO_MY_HEART_AS_LIFES_WARM"></a>DEAR TO MY HEART AS LIFE'S WARM +STREAM.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_45" id="Page_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="THE_LOT_OF_THOUSANDS" id="THE_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="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON" id="ALEXANDER_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="Page_47" id="Page_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="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN" id="CAULD_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="Page_49" id="Page_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="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MRS_GRANT_OF_CARRON" id="MRS_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="Page_51" id="Page_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="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="ROYS_WIFE_OF_ALDIVALLOCH" id="ROYS_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="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_COUPER_MD" id="ROBERT_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="Page_54" id="Page_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="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="KINRARA" id="KINRARA"></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="THE_SHEELING" id="THE_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="Page_56" id="Page_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="THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6" id="THE_EWE-BUGHTS_MARION6"></a>THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_57" id="Page_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="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LADY_ANNE_BARNARD" id="LADY_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="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +melody,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_60" id="Page_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="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_61" id="Page_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="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> a romance had been founded upon it by a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_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="Page_63" id="Page_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="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="AULD_ROBIN_GRAY" id="AULD_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="Page_65" id="Page_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="Part_II" id="Part_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="Page_66" id="Page_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="Page_67" id="Page_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="Page_68" id="Page_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="SONG" id="SONG"></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="Page_69" id="Page_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="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="JOHN_TAIT" id="JOHN_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="Page_71" id="Page_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="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_BANKS_OF_THE_DEE" id="THE_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="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="HECTOR_MACNEILL" id="HECTOR_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="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_74" id="Page_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="Page_75" id="Page_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="Page_76" id="Page_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="Page_77" id="Page_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="Page_78" id="Page_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="Page_79" id="Page_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="Page_80" id="Page_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="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_81" id="Page_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="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12" id="MARY_OF_CASTLECARY12"></a>MARY OF CASTLECARY.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_83" id="Page_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="MY_BOY_TAMMY13" id="MY_BOY_TAMMY13"></a>MY BOY, TAMMY.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_84" id="Page_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="Page_85" id="Page_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="OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14" id="OH_TELL_ME_HOW_FOR_TO_WOO14"></a>OH, TELL ME HOW FOR TO WOO!<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_86" id="Page_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="Page_87" id="Page_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="LASSIE_WI_THE_GOWDEN_HAIR" id="LASSIE_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="Page_88" id="Page_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="Page_89" id="Page_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="COME_UNDER_MY_PLAIDIE" id="COME_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="Page_90" id="Page_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="I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15" id="I_LOED_NEER_A_LADDIE_BUT_ANE15"></a>I LO'ED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_91" id="Page_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="Page_92" id="Page_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="DONALD_AND_FLORA16" id="DONALD_AND_FLORA16"></a>DONALD AND FLORA.<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_93" id="Page_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="Page_94" id="Page_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="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18" id="MY_LUVES_IN_GERMANY18"></a>MY LUVE'S IN GERMANY.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_96" id="Page_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="DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19" id="DINNA_THINK_BONNIE_LASSIE19"></a>DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_97" id="Page_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="Page_98" id="Page_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="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MRS_GRANT_OF_LAGGAN" id="MRS_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="Page_100" id="Page_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="Page_101" id="Page_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="Page_102" id="Page_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="Page_103" id="Page_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="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="OH_WHERE_TELL_ME_WHERE" id="OH_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="Page_105" id="Page_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="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20" id="OH_MY_LOVE_LEAVE_ME_NOT20"></a>OH, MY LOVE, LEAVE ME NOT!<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_MAYNE" id="JOHN_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="Page_108" id="Page_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="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_109" id="Page_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="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="LOGAN_BRAES23" id="LOGAN_BRAES23"></a>LOGAN BRAES.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_111" id="Page_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="HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24" id="HELEN_OF_KIRKCONNEL24"></a>HELEN OF KIRKCONNEL.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_112" id="Page_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="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_WINTER_SAT_LANG" id="THE_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="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MY_JOHNNIE" id="MY_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="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_TROOPS_WERE_EMBARKED" id="THE_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="Page_116" id="Page_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="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_HAMILTON" id="JOHN_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="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_RANTIN_HIGHLANDMAN" id="THE_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="Page_119" id="Page_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="UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25" id="UP_IN_THE_MORNIN_EARLY25"></a>UP IN THE MORNIN' EARLY.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_120" id="Page_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="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26" id="GO_TO_BERWICK_JOHNNIE26"></a>GO TO BERWICK, JOHNNIE.<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="MISS_FORBES_FAREWELL_TO_BANFF" id="MISS_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="Page_122" id="Page_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="TELL_ME_JESSIE_TELL_ME_WHY" id="TELL_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="Page_123" id="Page_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="THE_HAWTHORN" id="THE_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="Page_124" id="Page_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="OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27" id="OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27"></a>OH, BLAW, YE WESTLIN' WINDS!<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_125" id="Page_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="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOANNA_BAILLIE" id="JOANNA_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="Page_127" id="Page_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="Page_128" id="Page_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="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_129" id="Page_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="Page_130" id="Page_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="Page_131" id="Page_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="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAID_OF_LLANWELLYN" id="THE_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="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="GOOD_NIGHT_GOOD_NIGHT" id="GOOD_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="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THOUGH_RICHER_SWAINS_THY_LOVE" id="THOUGH_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="POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29" id="POVERTY_PARTS_GUDE_COMPANIE29"></a>POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE.<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_135" id="Page_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="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30" id="FY_LET_US_A_TO_THE_WEDDING30"></a>FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_137" id="Page_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="Page_138" id="Page_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="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31" id="HOOLY_AND_FAIRLY31"></a>HOOLY AND FAIRLY.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_140" id="Page_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="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_WEARY_PUND_O_TOW" id="THE_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="Page_142" id="Page_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="THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32" id="THE_WEE_PICKLE_TOW32"></a>THE WEE PICKLE TOW.<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_143" id="Page_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="THE_GOWAN_GLITTERS_ON_THE_SWARD" id="THE_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="Page_144" id="Page_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="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="SAW_YE_JOHNNIE_COMIN" id="SAW_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="Page_146" id="Page_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="IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33" id="IT_FELL_ON_A_MORNING33"></a>IT FELL ON A MORNING.<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_147" id="Page_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="Page_148" id="Page_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="WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34" id="WOOD_AND_MARRIED_AND_A34"></a>WOO'D, AND MARRIED, AND A'.<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_149" id="Page_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="Page_150" id="Page_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="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_DUDGEON" id="WILLIAM_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="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="UP_AMONG_YON_CLIFFY_ROCKS" id="UP_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="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_REID" id="WILLIAM_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="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_LEA_RIG35" id="THE_LEA_RIG35"></a>THE LEA RIG.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_155" id="Page_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="JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36" id="JOHN_ANDERSON_MY_JO36"></a>JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO.<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_156" id="Page_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="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="FAIR_MODEST_FLOWER" id="FAIR_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="KATE_O_GOWRIE37" id="KATE_O_GOWRIE37"></a>KATE O' GOWRIE.<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_158" id="Page_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="Page_159" id="Page_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="UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38" id="UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38"></a>UPON THE BANKS O' FLOWING CLYDE.<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_160" id="Page_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="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL" id="ALEXANDER_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="Page_162" id="Page_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="Page_163" id="Page_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="Page_164" id="Page_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="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="NOW_WINTERS_WIND_SWEEPS" id="NOW_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="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_HAWK_WHOOPS_ON_HIGH" id="THE_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="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MRS_DUGALD_STEWART" id="MRS_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="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_TEARS_I_SHED_MUST_EVER_FALL" id="THE_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="Page_169" id="Page_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="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40" id="RETURNING_SPRING_WITH_GLADSOME_RAY40"></a>RETURNING SPRING, WITH GLADSOME RAY.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_170" id="Page_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="Page_171" id="Page_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="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_WILSON" id="ALEXANDER_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="Page_173" id="Page_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="Page_174" id="Page_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="Page_175" id="Page_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="Page_176" id="Page_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="Page_177" id="Page_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="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +paint with a life and a humour which Burns seems alone +to excel."<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="CONNEL_AND_FLORA" id="CONNEL_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="MATILDA" id="MATILDA"></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="Page_180" id="Page_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="Page_181" id="Page_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="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="AUCHTERTOOL43" id="AUCHTERTOOL43"></a>AUCHTERTOOL.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_183" id="Page_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="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN" id="CAROLINA_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="Page_185" id="Page_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="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_186" id="Page_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="Page_187" id="Page_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="Page_188" id="Page_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="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_189" id="Page_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="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_190" id="Page_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="Page_191" id="Page_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="Page_192" id="Page_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="Page_193" id="Page_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="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_PLEUGHMAN47" id="THE_PLEUGHMAN47"></a>THE PLEUGHMAN.<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="CALLER_HERRIN48" id="CALLER_HERRIN48"></a>CALLER HERRIN'.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_196" id="Page_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="THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49" id="THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL49"></a>THE LAND O' THE LEAL.<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_197" id="Page_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="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50" id="THE_LAIRD_O_COCKPEN50"></a>THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN.<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_199" id="Page_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="Page_200" id="Page_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="HER_HOME_SHE_IS_LEAVING" id="HER_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="Page_201" id="Page_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="THE_BONNIEST_LASS_IN_A_THE_WARLD" id="THE_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="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51" id="MY_AIN_KIND_DEARIE_O51"></a>MY AIN KIND DEARIE, O!<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="HES_LIFELESS_AMANG_THE_RUDE" id="HES_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="Page_203" id="Page_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="JOY_OF_MY_EARLIEST_DAYS" id="JOY_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="Page_204" id="Page_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="OH_WEELS_ME_ON_MY_AIN_MAN" id="OH_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="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52" id="KIND_ROBIN_LOES_ME52"></a>KIND ROBIN LOE'S ME.<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="KITTY_REIDS_HOUSE" id="KITTY_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="Page_206" id="Page_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="THE_ROBINS_NEST" id="THE_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="Page_207" id="Page_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="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53" id="SAW_YE_NAE_MY_PEGGY53"></a>SAW YE NAE MY PEGGY?<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_209" id="Page_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="GUDE_NICHT_AND_JOY_BE_WI_YE_A" id="GUDE_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="Page_210" id="Page_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="CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54" id="CAULD_KAIL_IN_ABERDEEN54"></a>CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_211" id="Page_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="HES_OWER_THE_HILLS_THAT_I_LOE" id="HES_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="Page_212" id="Page_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="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55" id="THE_LASS_O_GOWRIE55"></a>THE LASS O' GOWRIE.<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_214" id="Page_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="Page_215" id="Page_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="THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56" id="THERE_GROWS_A_BONNIE_BRIER_BUSH56"></a>THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_216" id="Page_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="JOHN_TOD" id="JOHN_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="Page_217" id="Page_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="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="WILL_YE_NO_COME_BACK_AGAIN" id="WILL_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="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="JAMIE_THE_LAIRD" id="JAMIE_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="Page_220" id="Page_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="SONGS_OF_MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="SONGS_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="Page_221" id="Page_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="CASTELL_GLOOM58" id="CASTELL_GLOOM58"></a>CASTELL GLOOM.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_222" id="Page_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="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="BONNIE_GASCON_HA" id="BONNIE_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="Page_224" id="Page_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="THE_AULD_HOUSE" id="THE_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="Page_225" id="Page_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="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59" id="THE_HUNDRED_PIPERS59"></a>THE HUNDRED PIPERS.<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_227" id="Page_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="THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60" id="THE_WOMEN_ARE_A_GANE_WUD60"></a>THE WOMEN ARE A' GANE WUD.<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_228" id="Page_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="JEANIE_DEANS61" id="JEANIE_DEANS61"></a>JEANIE DEANS.<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_229" id="Page_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="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_HEIRESS63" id="THE_HEIRESS63"></a>THE HEIRESS.<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_231" id="Page_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="THE_MITHERLESS_LAMMIE" id="THE_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="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64" id="THE_ATTAINTED_SCOTTISH_NOBLES64"></a>THE ATTAINTED SCOTTISH NOBLES.<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI" id="TRUE_LOVE_IS_WATERED_AYE_WI"></a>TRUE LOVE IS WATERED AYE WI' +TEARS.<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_234" id="Page_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="AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66" id="AH_LITTLE_DID_MY_MOTHER_THINK66"></a>AH, LITTLE DID MY MOTHER THINK.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_235" id="Page_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="WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67" id="WOULD_YOU_BE_YOUNG_AGAIN67"></a>WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN?<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_236" id="Page_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="REST_IS_NOT_HERE" id="REST_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="Page_237" id="Page_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="HERES_TO_THEM_THAT_ARE_GANE" id="HERES_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="Page_238" id="Page_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="FAREWEEL_O_FAREWEEL" id="FAREWEEL_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="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE" id="THE_DEAD_WHO_HAVE_DIED_IN_THE"></a>THE DEAD WHO HAVE DIED IN THE +LORD.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_NICOL" id="JAMES_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="Page_241" id="Page_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="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="BLAW_SAFTLY_YE_BREEZES" id="BLAW_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="BY_YON_HOARSE_MURMURIN_STREAM" id="BY_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="Page_243" id="Page_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="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="HALUCKIT_MEG" id="HALUCKIT_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="Page_245" id="Page_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="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MY_DEAR_LITTLE_LASSIE" id="MY_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="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_MONTGOMERY" id="JAMES_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="Page_248" id="Page_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="Page_249" id="Page_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="Page_250" id="Page_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="Page_251" id="Page_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="Page_252" id="Page_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="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="FRIENDSHIP_LOVE_AND_TRUTH" id="FRIENDSHIP_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="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_SWISS_COWHERDS_SONG_IN_A" id="THE_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="GERMAN_WAR-SONG69" id="GERMAN_WAR-SONG69"></a>GERMAN WAR-SONG.<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_255" id="Page_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="VIA_CRUCIS_VIA_LUCIS" id="VIA_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="Page_256" id="Page_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="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="VERSES_TO_A_ROBIN_RED-BREAST" id="VERSES_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="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_258" id="Page_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="SLAVERY_THAT_WAS" id="SLAVERY_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="Page_259" id="Page_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="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ANDREW_SCOTT" id="ANDREW_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="Page_261" id="Page_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="Page_262" id="Page_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="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="RURAL_CONTENT_OR_THE_MUIRLAND" id="RURAL_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="Page_264" id="Page_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="Page_265" id="Page_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="SYMON_AND_JANET" id="SYMON_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="Page_266" id="Page_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="Page_267" id="Page_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="Page_268" id="Page_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="COQUET_WATER" id="COQUET_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="Page_269" id="Page_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="THE_YOUNG_MAIDS_WISH_FOR_PEACE" id="THE_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="Page_270" id="Page_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="Page_271" id="Page_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="THE_FIDDLERS_WIDOW" id="THE_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="Page_272" id="Page_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="LAMENT_FOR_THE_DEATH_OF_AN_IRISH_CHIEF" id="LAMENT_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="Page_273" id="Page_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="THE_DEPARTURE_OF_SUMMER" id="THE_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="Page_274" id="Page_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="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT_BART" id="SIR_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="Page_276" id="Page_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="Page_277" id="Page_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="Page_278" id="Page_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="Page_279" id="Page_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="Page_280" id="Page_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="Page_281" id="Page_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="Page_282" id="Page_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="Page_283" id="Page_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="Page_284" id="Page_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="Page_285" id="Page_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="Page_286" id="Page_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="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +their popularity.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_288" id="Page_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="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74" id="IT_WAS_AN_ENGLISH_LADYE_BRIGHT74"></a>IT WAS AN ENGLISH LADYE BRIGHT.<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_290" id="Page_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="LOCHINVAR75" id="LOCHINVAR75"></a>LOCHINVAR.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_291" id="Page_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="Page_292" id="Page_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="WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76" id="WHERE_SHALL_THE_LOVER_REST76"></a>WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST.<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_293" id="Page_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="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77" id="SOLDIER_REST_THY_WARFARE_OER77"></a>SOLDIER, REST! THY WARFARE O'ER.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_295" id="Page_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="HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78" id="HAIL_TO_THE_CHIEF_WHO_IN_TRIUMPH_ADVANCES78"></a>HAIL TO THE CHIEF WHO IN TRIUMPH ADVANCES!<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_296" id="Page_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="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79" id="THE_HEATH_THIS_NIGHT_MUST_BE_MY_BED79"></a>THE HEATH THIS NIGHT MUST BE MY BED.<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80" id="THE_IMPRISONED_HUNTSMAN80"></a>THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN.<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81" id="HE_IS_GONE_ON_THE_MOUNTAIN81"></a>HE IS GONE ON THE MOUNTAIN.<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82" id="A_WEARY_LOT_IS_THINE_FAIR_MAID82"></a>A WEARY LOT IS THINE, FAIR MAID.<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="ALLEN-A-DALE83" id="ALLEN-A-DALE83"></a>ALLEN-A-DALE.<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_301" id="Page_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="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84" id="THE_CYPRESS_WREATH84"></a>THE CYPRESS WREATH.<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_303" id="Page_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="THE_CAVALIER85" id="THE_CAVALIER85"></a>THE CAVALIER.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_304" id="Page_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="HUNTING_SONG86" id="HUNTING_SONG86"></a>HUNTING SONG.<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_305" id="Page_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="OH_SAY_NOT_MY_LOVE_WITH_THAT" id="OH_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="Page_306" id="Page_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="Page_307" id="Page_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="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_MACKAY_ROB_DONN" id="ROBERT_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="Page_310" id="Page_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="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> and +no less than Sir Walter Scott for his reviewer.<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_SONG_OF_WINTER" id="THE_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="Page_312" id="Page_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="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_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="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_314" id="Page_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="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="DIRGE_FOR_IAN_MACECHAN" id="DIRGE_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="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="THE_SONG_OF_THE_FORSAKEN_DROVER" id="THE_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="Page_316" id="Page_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="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though unsummon'd of thee,<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_318" id="Page_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="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> in its soar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="ISABEL_MACKAY_THE_MAID_ALONE" id="ISABEL_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="Page_319" id="Page_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="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_320" id="Page_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="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="EVANS_ELEGY" id="EVANS_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="Page_322" id="Page_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="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DOUGAL_BUCHANAN" id="DOUGAL_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="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_324" id="Page_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="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_325" id="Page_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="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="A_CLAGIONN" id="A_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="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_327" id="Page_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="Page_328" id="Page_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="Page_329" id="Page_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="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="AM_BRUADAR" id="AM_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="Page_331" id="Page_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="Page_332" id="Page_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="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_333" id="Page_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="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DUNCAN_MACINTYRE" id="DUNCAN_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="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="MAIRI_BHAN_OG" id="MAIRI_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="Page_336" id="Page_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="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="BENDOURAIN_THE_OTTER_MOUNT" id="BENDOURAIN_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="Page_337" id="Page_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="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_338" id="Page_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="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_339" id="Page_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="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_340" id="Page_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="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_341" id="Page_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="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> sweet display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>ealvi</i>,<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>dorach</i><a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_343" id="Page_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="Page_344" id="Page_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="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And though Cult<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_346" id="Page_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="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124" id="THE_BARD_TO_HIS_MUSKET124"></a>THE BARD TO HIS MUSKET.<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_348" id="Page_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="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_349" id="Page_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="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_350" id="Page_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="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_MACODRUM" id="JOHN_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="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="ORAN_NA_H-AOIS" id="ORAN_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="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_353" id="Page_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="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_354" id="Page_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="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NORMAN_MACLEOD" id="NORMAN_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="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_356" id="Page_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="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3><a name="CABERFAE" id="CABERFAE"></a>CABERFAE,</h3> + +<h4>THE STAGHEAD.<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> to his bratach<a name="FNanchor_135_135" id="FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_136_136" id="FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_137_137" id="FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_138_138" id="FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> and the Frazer,<a name="FNanchor_139_139" id="FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_140_140" id="FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> in dismay, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Culloden-wards, undallying.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_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="FNanchor_141_141" id="FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_142_142" id="FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> of Spoils, his heart recoils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cries in haste his cabul<a name="FNanchor_143_143" id="FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_144_144" id="FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_359" id="Page_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="FNanchor_145_145" id="FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_146_146" id="FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_147_147" id="FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird!<a name="FNanchor_148_148" id="FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_149_149" id="FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a>—Never,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou foster child of evil,<a name="FNanchor_150_150" id="FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> ha!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How ill match with thy feather<a name="FNanchor_151_151" id="FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The talons<a name="FNanchor_152_152" id="FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_153_153" id="FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_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="FNanchor_154_154" id="FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his war-notes<a name="FNanchor_155_155" id="FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_156_156" id="FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_157_157" id="FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_158_158" id="FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_159_159" id="FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_160_160" id="FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="FNanchor_161_161" id="FNanchor_161_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_362" id="Page_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="FNanchor_162_162" id="FNanchor_162_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_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="Page_363" id="Page_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="GLOSSARY" id="GLOSSARY"></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="Page_364" id="Page_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="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> See Note to "Lady of the Lake."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#UPON_THE_BANKS_O_FLOWING_CLYDE38">postea</a></i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> <i>Literary Gazette</i>, March 1851.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> See <i><a href="#CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">postea</a></i>, in this volume, under article "<a href="#CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Lady Nairn</a>."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#OH_BLAW_YE_WESTLIN_WINDS27">ante</a></i>, <a href="#Page_124">p. 124.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Memoir</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#WILLIAM_REID">ante</a></i>, article "<a href="#WILLIAM_REID">William Reid</a>.")</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#ALEXANDER_DUKE_OF_GORDON">ante</a></i>, +<a href="#Page_46">p. 46</a>.</p></div> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#KATE_O_GOWRIE37">ante</a></i>, <a href="#Page_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="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> A familiar Scottish phrase for good sense.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="#CAROLINA_BARONESS_NAIRN">Memoir</a>.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Here first printed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> These verses are here first printed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> The Ouse.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> From the third canto of "Marmion."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> "The Lady of the Lake," canto sixth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> "The Lady of the Lake," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto third.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto fifth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> "Rokeby," canto fifth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> <i>Quarterly Review</i>, vol. xlv., April 1831.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> Birds.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Salmon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> "Poems," p. 318.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> A common Highland adjuration.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Published at Glasgow, 1836.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Maiden or virgin—<i>orig.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> <i>Orig.</i>—The venomous red spider.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Anglicised into <i>Ben</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> The deer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Stag of the first head.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Pass.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Bog-holes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Stripings.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Easan-an-tsith.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> Primrose.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> St John's wort.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> A kind of cress, or marshmallow.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> <i>Anglice</i>—dark.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—King George.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_123_123" id="Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_124_124" id="Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_125_125" id="Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> A byeword for a regimental firelock.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_126_126" id="Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_127_127" id="Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> Alluding to the plagues.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_128_128" id="Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> The teeth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_129_129" id="Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Matted, rough, gray beard.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_130_130" id="Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_131_131" id="Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Hugh Macleod.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_132_132" id="Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Applicable both to the chief and his crest.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_133_133" id="Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_134_134" id="Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> Sutherlanders, or Caithness men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_135_135" id="Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> Banner.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_136_136" id="Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> Monro of Fowlis.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_137_137" id="Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> Rose of Kilravock and his clan.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_138_138" id="Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> Grant of Grant.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_139_139" id="Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> Lovat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_140_140" id="Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> Of Culloden.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_141_141" id="Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> Of Sutherland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_142_142" id="Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> Lord Reay.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_143_143" id="Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> Steed. The Celtic "Cabul" and Latin "Caballus" correspond.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_144_144" id="Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_145_145" id="Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> The Caithness and Sutherland men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_146_146" id="Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> Lovat's men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_147_147" id="Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> The eagle being the crest of the Monro.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_148_148" id="Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_149_149" id="Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_150_150" id="Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Literally—Accursed by Moses, or the Mosaic law.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_151_151" id="Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_152_152" id="Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_153_153" id="Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_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="Footnote_154_154" id="Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> Seaforth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_155_155" id="Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> Literally—Bagpipes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_156_156" id="Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> Macallammore: Argyle.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_157_157" id="Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> Macdonald of Sleat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_158_158" id="Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> Clanranald's country.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_159_159" id="Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> Literally—Of blue steel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_160_160" id="Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Mac-Mhic-Alister, the patronymic of Glengary.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_161_161" id="Footnote_161_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> Castle Brahan, Seaforth's seat.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_162_162" id="Footnote_162_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> <i>Gaelic</i>—Barrels of liquor, properly <i>bùidealan</i>.</p></div> + + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel , Volume +I., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + +***** This file should be named 18396-h.htm or 18396-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/9/18396/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Susan Skinner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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