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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19525-8.txt b/19525-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c85a81 --- /dev/null +++ b/19525-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10252 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume IV., by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume IV. + The Songs of Scotland of the Past Half Century + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 11, 2006 [EBook #19525] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. IV. + + +CAMPBELL + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +Henry Scott Riddell. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL IV. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +MDCCCLVII. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +FRANCIS BENNOCH, ESQ., F.S.A., + +ONE OF THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING SCOTTISH SONG-WRITERS, +AND THE MUNIFICENT PATRON OF MEN OF LETTERS, + +THIS FOURTH VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS DEDICATED, + +WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ESTEEM, + +BY + +HIS VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +THE INFLUENCE OF BURNS + +ON + +SCOTTISH POETRY AND SONG: + +An Essay. + +BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +It is exceedingly difficult to settle the exact place of, as well as to +compute the varied influences wielded by, a great original genius. Every +such mind borrows so much from his age and from the past, as well as +communicates so much from his own native stores, that it is difficult to +determine whether he be more the creature or the creator of his period. +But, ere determining the influence exerted by Burns on Scottish song and +poetry, it is necessary first to inquire what he owed to his +predecessors in the art, as well as to the general Scottish atmosphere +of thought, feeling, scenery and manners. + +First of all, Burns felt, in common with his _forbears_ in the genealogy +of Scottish song, the inspiring influences breathing from our +mountain-land, and from the peculiar habits and customs of a "people +dwelling alone, and not reckoned among the nations." He was not born in +a district peculiarly distinguished for romantic beauty--we mean, in +comparison with some other regions of Scotland. The whole course of the +Ayr, as Currie remarks, is beautiful; and beautiful exceedingly the Brig +of Doon, especially as it now shines through the magic of the Master's +poetry. But it yields to many other parts of Scotland, some of which +Burns indeed afterwards saw, although his matured genius was not much +profited by the sight. Ayrshire--even with the peaks of Arran bounding +the view seaward--cannot vie with the scenery around Edinburgh; with +Stirling--its links and blue mountains; with "Gowrie's Carse, beloved of +Ceres, and Clydesdale to Pomona dear;" with Straths Tay and Earn, with +their two fine rivers flowing from finer lakes, through corn-fields, +woods, and rocks, to melt into each other's arms in music, near the fair +city of Perth; with the wilder and stormier courses of the Spey, the +Findhorn, and the Dee; with the romantic and song-consecrated precincts +of the Border; with the "bonnie hills o' Gallowa" and Dumfriesshire; or +with that transcendent mountain region stretching up along Lochs Linnhe, +Etive, and Leven--between the wild, torn ridges of Morven and +Appin--uniting Ben Cruachan to Ben Nevis, and including in its sweep the +lonely and magnificent Glencoe--a region unparalleled in wide Britain +for its quantity and variety of desolate grandeur, where every shape is +bold, every shape blasted, but all blasted at such different angles as +to produce endless diversity, and yet where the whole seems twisted into +a certain terrible harmony; not to speak of the glorious isles + + "Placed far amid the melancholy main," + +Iona, which, being interpreted, means the "Island of the Waves," the +rocky cradle of Scotland's Christianity; Staffa with grass growing above +the unspeakable grandeur which lurks in the cathedral-cave below, and +cows peacefully feeding over the tumultuous surge which forms the organ +of the eternal service; and Skye, with its Loch Coriskin, piercing like +a bright arrow the black breast of the shaggy hills of Cuchullin. Burns +had around him only the features of ordinary Scottish scenery, but from +these he drank in no common draught of inspiration; and how admirably +has he reproduced such simple objects as the "burn stealing under the +lang yellow broom," and the "milk-white thorn that scents the evening +gale," the "burnie wimplin' in its glen," and the + + "Rough bur-thistle spreadin' wide + Amang the bearded bear." + +These objects constituted the poetry of his own fields; they were linked +with his own joys, loves, memories, and sorrows, and these he felt +impelled to enshrine in song. It may, indeed, be doubted if his cast of +mind would have led him to sympathise with bold and savage scenery. In +proof of this, we remember that, although he often had seen the gigantic +ridges of Arran looming through the purple evening air, or with the +"morning suddenly spread" upon their summer summits, or with premature +snow tinging their autumnal tops, he never once alludes to them, so far +as we remember, either in his poetry or prose; and that although he +spent a part of his youth on the wild smuggling coast of Carrick, he has +borrowed little of his imagery from the sea--none, we think, except the +two lines in the "Vision"-- + + "I saw thee seek the sounding shore, + Delighted with the dashing roar." + +His descriptions are almost all of inland scenery. Yet, that there was a +strong sense of the sublime in his mind is manifest from the lines +succeeding the above-- + + "And when the North his fleecy store + Drove through the sky, + I saw grim Nature's visage hoar + Struck thy young eye;" + +as well as from the delight he expresses in walking beside a planting in +a windy day, and listening to the blast howling through the trees and +raving over the plain. Perhaps his mind was most alive to the sublimity +of _motion_, of agitation, of tumultuous energy, as exhibited in a +snow-storm, or in the "torrent rapture" of winds and waters, because +they seemed to sympathise with his own tempestuous passions, even as the +fierce Zanga, in the "Revenge," during a storm, exclaims--- + + "I like this rocking of the battlements. + Rage on, ye winds; burst clouds, and waters roar! + You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, + And suit the gloomy habit of my soul." + +Probably Burns felt little admiration of the calm, colossal grandeur of +mountain-scenery, where there are indeed vestiges of convulsion and +agony, but where age has softened the storm into stillness, and where +the memory of former strife and upheaving only serves to deepen the +feeling of repose--vestiges which, like the wrinkles on the stern brow +of the Corsair, + + "Speak of passion, but of passion past." + +With these records of bygone "majestic pains," on the other hand, the +genius of Milton and Wordsworth seemed made to sympathise; and the +former is never greater than standing on Niphates Mount with Satan, or +upon the "hill of Paradise the highest" with Michael, or upon the +"Specular Mount" with the Tempter and the Saviour; and the latter is +always most himself beside Skiddaw or Helvellyn. Byron professes vast +admiration for Lochnagar and the Alps; but the former is seen through +the enchanting medium of distance and childish memory; and among the +latter, his rhapsodies on Mont Blanc, and the cold "thrones of eternity" +around him, are nothing to his pictures of torrents, cataracts, +thunderstorms; in short, of all objects where unrest--the leading +feeling in _his_ bosom--constitutes the principal element in _their_ +grandeur. It is curious, by the way, how few good descriptions there +exist in poetry of views _from_ mountains. Milton has, indeed, some +incomparable ones, but all imaginary--such, at least, as no actual +mountain on earth can command; but, in other poets, we at this moment +remember no good one. They seem always looking up _to_, not down from, +mountains. Wordsworth has given us, for example, no description of the +view from Skiddaw; and there does not exist, in any Scottish poetical +author, a first-rate picture of the view either from Ben Lomond, +Schehallion, Ben Cruachan, or Ben Nevis. + +After all, Burns was more influenced by some other characteristics of +Scotland than he was by its scenery. There was, first, its romantic +history. _That_ had not then been separated, as it has since been, from +the mists of fable, but lay exactly in that twilight point of view best +adapted for arousing the imagination. To the eye of Burns, as it glared +back into the past, the history of his country seemed intensely +poetical--including the line of early kings who pass over the stage of +Boece' and Buchanan's story as their brethren over the magic glass of +Macbeth's witches--equally fantastic and equally false--the dark +tragedy of that terrible thane of Glammis and Cawdor--the deeds of +Wallace and Bruce--the battle of Flodden--and the sad fate of Queen +Mary; and from most of these themes he drew an inspiration which could +scarcely have been conceived to reside even in them. On Wallace, Bruce, +and Queen Mary, his mind seems to have brooded with peculiar +intensity--on the two former, because they were patriots; and on the +latter, because she was a beautiful woman; and his allusions to them +rank with the finest parts in his or any poetry. He seemed especially +adapted to be the poet-laureate of Wallace--a modern edition, somewhat +improved, of the broad, brawny, ragged bard who actually, it is +probable, attended in the train of Scotland's patriot hero, and whose +constant occupation it was to change the gold of his achievements into +the silver of song. Scottish manners, too, as well as history, exerted a +powerful influence on Scotland's peasant-poet. They were then far more +peculiar than now, and had only been faintly or partially represented by +previous poets. Thus, the christening of the _wean_, with all its +ceremony and all its mirth--Hallowe'en, with its "rude awe and +laughter"--the "Rockin'"--the "Brooze"--the Bridal--and a hundred other +intensely Scottish and very old customs, were all ripe and ready for the +poet, and many of them he has treated, accordingly, with consummate +felicity and genius. It seems almost as if the _final cause_ of their +long-continued existence were connected with the appearance, in due +time, of one who was to extract their finest essence, and to embalm them +for ever in his own form of ideal representation. + +Burns, too, doubtless derived much from previous poets. This is a common +case, as we have before hinted, with even the most original. Had not +Shakspeare and Milton been "celestial thieves," their writings would +have been far less rich and brilliant than they are; although, had they +not possessed true originality, they would not have taken their present +lofty position in the world of letters. So, to say that Burns was much +indebted to his predecessors, and that he often imitated Ramsay and +Fergusson, and borrowed liberally from the old ballads, is by no means +to derogate from his genius. If he took, he gave with interest. The most +commonplace songs, after they had, as he said, "got a brushing" from his +hands, assumed a totally different aspect. Each ballad was merely a +piece of canvas, on which he inscribed his inimitable paintings. +Sometimes even by a single word he proclaimed the presence of the +master-poet, and by a single stroke exalted a daub into a picture. His +imitations of Ramsay and Fergusson far surpass the originals, and remind +you of Landseer's dogs, which seem better than the models from which he +drew. When a king accepts a fashion from a subject, he glorifies it, and +renders it the rage. It was in this royal style that Burns treated the +inferior writers who had gone before him; and although he highly admired +and warmly praised them, he must have felt a secret sense of his own +vast superiority. + +We come now shortly to speak of the influence he has exerted on Scottish +poetry. This was manifold. In the first place, a number were encouraged +by his success to collect and publish their poems, although few of them +possessed much merit; and he complained that some were a wretched +"spawn" of mediocrity, which the sunshine of his fame had warmed and +brought forth prematurely. Lapraik, for instance, was induced by the +praise of Burns to print an edition of his poems, which turned out a +total failure. There was only one good piece in it all, and _that_ was +pilfered from an old magazine. Secondly, Burns exerted an inspiring +influence on some men of real genius, who, we verily believe, would, but +for Burns, have never written, or, at least, written so well--such as +Alexander Wilson, Tannahill, Macneil, Hogg, and the numerous members of +the "Whistle-Binkie" school. In all these writers we trace the influence +of the large "lingering star" of the genius of Burns. "Wattie and Meg," +by Wilson, when it first appeared anonymously, was attributed to Burns. +Tannahill is, in much of his poetry, an echo of Burns, although in +song-writing he is a real original. Macneil was roused by Burns' praises +of whisky to give a _per contra_, in his "Scotland's Scaith; or, the +History of Will and Jean." And although the most of Hogg's poetry is +entirely original, we find the influence of Burns distinctly marked in +some of his songs--such as the "Kye come Hame." + +But there is a wider and more important light in which to regard the +influence of our great national Bard. He first fully revealed the +interest and the beauty which lie in the simpler forms of Scottish +scenery, he darted light upon the peculiarities of Scottish manners, and +he opened the warm heart of his native land. Scotland, previous to +Burns' poetry, was a spring shut up and a fountain sealed. + + "She lay like some unkenned-of isle + Ayont New Holland." + +The glories of her lakes, her glens, her streams, her mountains, the +hardy courage, the burning patriotism, the trusty attachments, the +loves, the games, the superstitions, and the devotion of her +inhabitants, were all unknown and unsuspected as themes for song till +Burns took them up, and less added glory than shewed the glory that was +in them, and shewed also that they opened up a field nearly +inexhaustible. Writers of a very high order were thus attracted to +Scotland, not merely as their native country, but as a theme for poetry; +and, while disdaining to imitate Burns' poetry slavishly, and some of +them not writing in verse at all, they found in Scottish subjects ample +scope for the exercise of their genius; and in some measure to his +influence we may attribute the fictions of Mrs Hamilton and Miss +Ferrier, Scott's poems and novels, Galt's, Lockhart's, Wilson's, +Delta's, and Aird's tales and poetry, and much of the poetry of +Campbell, who, although he never writes in Scotch, has embalmed, in his +"Lochiel's Warning," "Glenara," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," some +interesting subjects connected with Scotland, and has, in "Gertrude of +Wyoming," and in the "Pilgrim of Glencoe," made striking allusions to +Scottish scenery. That the progress of civilisation, apart from Burns, +would have ultimately directed the attention of cultivated men to a +country so peculiar and poetical as Scotland cannot be doubted; but the +rise of Burns hastened the result, as being itself a main element in +propelling civilisation and diffusing genuine taste. His dazzling +success, too, excited emulation in the breasts of our men of genius, as +well as tended to exalt in their eyes a country which had produced such +a stalwart and gifted son. We may, indeed, apply to the feeling of pride +which animates Scotchmen, and particularly Scotchmen in other lands, at +the thought of Burns being their countryman, the famous lines of +Dryden-- + + "Men met each other with erected look, + The steps were higher that they took; + Each to congratulate his friends made haste, + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd." + +The poor man, says Wilson, as he speaks of Burns, always holds up his +head and regards you with an elated look. Scotland has become more +venerable, more beautiful, more glorious in the eyes of her children, +and a fitter theme for poetry, since the feet of Burns rested on her +fields, and since his ardent eyes glowed with enthusiasm as he saw her +scenery, and as he sung her praise; while to many in foreign parts she +is chiefly interesting as being (what a portion of her has long been +called) the Land of Burns. + +The real successors of Burns, it is thus manifest, were not Tannahill or +Macneil, but Sir Walter Scott, Campbell, Aird, Delta, Galt, Allan +Cunningham, and Professor Wilson. To all of these, Burns, along with +Nature, united in teaching the lessons of simplicity, of brawny +strength, of clear common sense, and of the propriety of staying at home +instead of gadding abroad in search of inspiration. All of these have +been, like Burns, more or less intensely Scottish in their subjects and +in their spirit. + +That Burns' errors as a man have exerted a pernicious influence on many +since, is, we fear, undeniable. He had been taught, by the lives of the +"wits," to consider aberration, eccentricity, and "devil-may-careism" as +prime badges of genius, and he proceeded accordingly to astonish the +natives, many of whom, in their turn, set themselves to copy his faults. +But when we subtract some half-dozen pieces, either coarse in language +or equivocal in purpose, the influence of his poetry may be considered +good. (We of course say nothing here of the volume called the "Merry +Muses," still extant to disgrace his memory.) It is doubtful if his +"Willie brew'd a peck o' Maut" ever made a drunkard, but it is certain +that his "Cottar's Saturday Night" has converted sinners, edified the +godly, and made some erect family altars. It has been worth a thousand +homilies. And, taking his songs as a whole, they have done much to stir +the flames of pure love, of patriotism, of genuine sentiment, and of a +taste for the beauties of nature. And it is remarkable that all his +followers and imitators have, almost without exception, avoided his +faults while emulating his beauties; and there is not a sentence in +Scott, or Campbell, or Aird, or Delta, and not many in Wilson or Galt, +that can be charged with indelicacy, or even coarseness. So that, on the +whole, we may assert that, whatever evil he did by the example of his +life, he has done very little--but, on the contrary, much good, both +artistically and morally, by the influence of his poetry. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL, 1 + The wild glen sae green, 49 + Scotia's thistle, 50 + The land of gallant hearts, 51 + The yellow locks o' Charlie, 52 + We 'll meet yet again, 53 + Our ain native land, 54 + The Grecian war-song, 56 + Flora's lament, 57 + When the glen all is still, 58 + Scotland yet, 58 + The minstrel's grave, 60 + My own land and loved one, 61 + The bower of the wild, 62 + The crook and plaid, 63 + The minstrel's bower, 65 + When the star of the morning, 66 + Though all fair was that bosom, 67 + Would that I were where wild-woods wave, 68 + O tell me what sound, 69 + Our Mary, 70 + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS, 73 + Sweet bard of Ettrick's Glen, 75 + Young Jamie, 76 + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, 77 + Heard ye the bagpipe? 78 + Bruce's address, 79 + Removed from vain fashion, 80 + When shall we meet again? 81 + +JAMES KING, 83 + The lake is at rest, 85 + Life 's like the dew, 86 + +ISOBEL PAGAN, 88 + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 89 + +JOHN MITCHELL, 90 + Beauty, 91 + To the evening star, 92 + O waft me to the fairy clime, 92 + The love-sick maid, 93 + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON, 95 + The maid who wove, 96 + A sigh and a smile, 97 + +JOHN GOLDIE, 98 + And can thy bosom, 100 + Sweet 's the dew, 101 + +ROBERT POLLOK, 103 + The African maid, 105 + +J. C. DENOVAN, 106 + Oh! Dermot, dear loved one, 107 + +JOHN IMLAH, 108 + Kathleen, 109 + Hielan' heather, 110 + Farewell to Scotland, 111 + The rose of Seaton Vale, 112 + Katherine and Donald, 113 + Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a', 114 + The gathering, 115 + Mary, 116 + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, 117 + +JOHN TWEEDIE, 120 + Saw ye my Annie? 121 + +THOMAS ATKINSON, 122 + Mary Shearer, 124 + +WILLIAM GARDINER, 126 + Oh! Scotland's hills for me, 127 + +ROBERT HOGG, 129 + Queen of fairy's song, 131 + When autumn comes, 132 + Bonnie Peggie, O! 133 + A wish burst, 133 + I love the merry moonlight, 135 + Oh, what are the chains of love made of? 136 + +JOHN WRIGHT, 137 + An autumnal cloud, 139 + The maiden fair, 140 + The old blighted thorn, 141 + The wrecked mariner, 141 + +JOSEPH GRANT, 143 + The blackbird's hymn is sweet, 145 + Love's adieu, 146 + +DUGALD MOORE, 147 + Rise, my love, 149 + Julia, 150 + Lucy's grave, 152 + The forgotten brave, 153 + The first ship, 154 + Weep not, 155 + To the Clyde, 156 + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON, 158 + The Araby maid, 160 + The maiden's vow, 160 + I love the sea, 162 + +GEORGE ALLAN, 163 + Is your war-pipe asleep? 166 + I will think of thee yet, 167 + Lassie, dear lassie, 168 + When I look far down on the valley below me, 169 + I will wake my harp when the shades of even, 170 + +THOMAS BRYDSON, 172 + All lovely and bright, 173 + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY, 174 + She died in beauty, 177 + The Scottish blue bells, 177 + +ROBERT MILLER, 179 + Where are they? 179 + Lay of the hopeless, 180 + +ALEXANDER HUME, 182 + My wee, wee wife, 187 + O, poverty! 187 + Nanny, 188 + My Bessie, 189 + Menie Hay, 190 + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, 192 + Oh! years hae come, 193 + My mountain hame, 194 + +THOMAS SMIBERT, 195 + The Scottish widow's lament, 197 + The hero of St. John D'Acre, 199 + Oh! bonnie are the howes, 200 + Oh! say na you maun gang awa, 201 + +JOHN BETHUNE, 203 + Withered flowers, 207 + A spring song, 208 + +ALLAN STEWART, 211 + The sea boy, 212 + Menie Lorn, 213 + The young soldier, 214 + The land I love, 215 + +ROBERT L. MALONE, 216 + The thistle of Scotland, 217 + Hame is aye hamely, 218 + +PETER STILL, 220 + Jeanie's lament, 221 + Ye needna be courtin' at me, 222 + The bucket for me, 223 + +ROBERT NICOLL, 225 + Ordé Braes, 228 + The Muir o' Gorse and Broom, 229 + The bonnie Hieland hills, 230 + The bonnie rowan bush, 231 + Bonnie Bessie Lee, 233 + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING, 235 + The wild rose blooms, 236 + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE, 237 + The Wells o' Wearie, 239 + +ALEXANDER LAING, 241 + Ae happy hour, 243 + Lass gin ye wad lo'e me, 244 + Lass of Logie, 245 + My ain wife, 246 + The maid o' Montrose, 247 + Jean of Aberdeen, 249 + The hopeless exile, 250 + Glen-na-H'Albyn, 250 + +ALEXANDER CARLILE, 252 + Wha 's at the window, 253 + My brothers are the stately trees, 254 + The Vale of Killean, 255 + +JOHN NEVAY, 257 + The emigrant's love-letter, 259 + +THOMAS LYLE, 261 + Kelvin Grove, 264 + The trysting hour, 265 + Harvest song, 266 + +JAMES HOME, 267 + Mary Steel, 268 + Oh, hast thou forgotten? 269 + The maid of my heart, 270 + Song of the emigrant, 271 + This lassie o' mine, 272 + +JAMES TELFER, 273 + Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? 273 + I maun gae over the sea, 275 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + PAGE + +EVAN MACLACHLAN, 279 + A melody of love, 281 + The mavis of the clan, 282 + +JOHN BROWN, 286 + The sisters of Dunolly, 287 + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D., 289 + Luineag--a love carol, 290 + +ANGUS FLETCHER, 292 + The Clachan of Glendaruel, 292 + The lassie of the glen, 294 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 295 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL. + + +Henry Scott Riddell, one of the most powerful and pleasing of the living +national song-writers, was born on the 23d September 1798, at Sorbie, in +the Vale of Ewes--a valley remarkable for its pastoral beauty, lying in +the south-east of Dumfriesshire. His father was a shepherd, well +acquainted with the duties of his profession, and a man of strong though +uneducated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr +Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become +able to traverse both _burn_ and _brae_, hill and glen, I frequently +returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity. +We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms +'_an out-bye herding_,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called +Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this +remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors, +ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter +Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly.... +Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was +one whom I have good reason to remember--the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I +forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become +older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of +heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and +pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men +naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise +few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of +recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural +roof--the shepherd's _bien_ and happy home. This was about the time when +Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the +circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in +his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read +them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these +meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to +make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore +the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to +deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and +self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own +attractions, and can subsist on its own resources. + +"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border +ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and +careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung +twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his +family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk, +and there for one year occupied a farm belonging to Thomas Beattie, Esq. +of Muckledale, and who, when my father was in Ewes, had been his +friend. My employment here was, along with a younger brother, to tend +the cows. In the winter season we entered the Corrie school, but had +only attended a short while when we both took fever, and our attendance +was not resumed. At Langshawburn, my father for several winters hired a +person into his house, who taught his family and that of a neighbouring +shepherd. In consequence of our distance from any place of regular +education, I had also been boarded at several schools--at Devington in +Eskdale, Roberton on Borthwick Water, and Newmill on the Teviot, at each +of which, however, I only remained a short time, making, I suppose, such +progress as do other boys who love the football better than the +spelling-book. + +"At the Whitsunday term my father relinquished his farm, and returned to +his former employment in the Forest of Ettrick, under Mr Scott of +Deloraine, to whom he had been a shepherd in his younger days. With this +family, indeed, and that of Mr Borthwick, then of Sorbie, and late of +Hopesrigg, all his years since he could wear the plaid were passed, with +the exception of the one just mentioned. It was at Deloraine that I +commenced the shepherd's life in good earnest. Through the friendly +partiality of our employer, I was made principal shepherd at an age +considerably younger than it is usual for most others to be intrusted +with so extensive a _hirsel_[1] as was committed to my care. I had by +this time, however, served what might be regarded as a regular +apprenticeship to the employment, which almost all sons of shepherds do, +whether they adhere to herding sheep in after-life or not. Seasons and +emergencies not seldom occur when the aid which the little boy can lend +often proves not much less availing than that of the grown-up man. +Education in this line consequently commences early. A knowledge of the +habits, together with the proper treatment of sheep, and therefore of +pastoral affairs in general, 'grows with the growth' of the individual, +and becomes, as it were, a portion of his nature. I had thus assisted my +father more or less all along; and when a little older, though still a +mere boy, I went for a year to a friend at Glencotha, in Holmswater, as +assistant shepherd or lamb-herd. Another year in the same capacity I was +with a shepherd in Wester Buccleuch. It was at Glencotha that I first +made a sustained attempt to compose in rhyme. When in Wester Buccleuch +my life was much more lonely, and became more tinged with thoughts and +feelings of a romantic cast. Owing to the nature of the stock kept on +the farm, it was my destiny day after day to be out among the mountains +during the whole summer season from early morn till the fall of even. +But the long summer days, whether clear or cloudy, never seemed long to +me--I never wearied among the wilds. My flocks being _hirsled_, as it is +expressed, required vigilance: but, if this was judiciously maintained, +the task was for the most part an easy and pleasant one. I know not if +it be worth while to mention that the hills and glens on which my charge +pastured at this period formed a portion of what in ancient times was +termed the Forest of Rankleburn. The names of places in the district, +though there were no other more intelligible traditions, might serve to +shew that it is a range of country to which both kings and nobles had +resorted. If from morning to night I was away far from the homes of +living men, I was not so in regard to those of the dead. Where a lesser +stream from the wild uplands comes down and meets the Rankleburn, a +church or chapel once stood, surrounded, like most other consecrated +places of the kind, by a burial-ground. There tradition says that five +dukes, some say kings, lie buried under a marble stone. I had heard that +Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, had, a number of years previously, made a +pilgrimage to this place, for the purpose of discovering the sepulchres +of the great and nearly forgotten dead, but without success. This, +however, tended, in my estimation, to confirm the truth of the +tradition; and having enough of time and opportunity, I made many a +toilsome effort of a similar nature, with the same result. With hills +around, wild and rarely trodden, and the ceaseless yet ever-varying +tinkling of its streams, together with the mysterious echoes which the +least stir seemed to awaken, the place was not only lonely, but also +creative of strange apprehensions, even in the hours of open day. It is +strange that the heart will fear the dead, which, perhaps, never feared +the living. Though I could muster and maintain courage to dig +perseveringly among the dust of the long-departed when the sun shone in +the sky, yet when the shadow of night was coming, or had come down upon +the earth, the scene was sacredly secure from all inroad on my part: and +to make the matter sufficiently intelligible, I may further mention +that, some years afterwards, when I took a fancy one evening to travel +eight miles to meet some friends in a shepherd's lone muirland dwelling, +I made the way somewhat longer for the sake of evading the impressive +loneliness of this locality. I had no belief that I should meet accusing +spirits of the dead; but I disliked to be troubled in waging war with +those _eery_ feelings which are the offspring of superstitious +associations. + +"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could get a book which +was not already threadbare. I had a few chisels, and files, and other +tools, with which I took pleasure in constructing, of wood or bone, +pieces of mechanism; and I kept a diary in which I wrote many minute and +trivial matters, as well, no doubt as I then thought, many a sage +observation. In this, likewise, I wrote rude rhymes on local +occurrences. But I have anticipated a little. On returning home from +Glencotha, and two years before I went to Buccleuch, a younger brother +and I had still another round at herding cattle, which pastured in a +park near by my father's cottage. Our part was to protect a meadow which +formed a portion of it; and the task being easy to protect that for +which the cattle did not much care, nor yet could skaithe greatly though +they should trespass upon it, we were far too idle not to enter upon and +prosecute many a wayward and unprofitable ploy. Our predilections for +taming wild birds--the wilder by nature the better--seemed boundless; +and our family of hawks, and owls, and ravens was too large not to cost +us much toil, anxiety, and even sorrow. We fished in the Ettrick and the +lesser streams. These last suited our way of it best, since we generally +fished with staves and plough-spades--thus far, at least, honourably +giving the objects of our pursuit a fair chance of escape. When the hay +had been won, we went to Ettrick school, at which we continued +throughout the winter, travelling to and from it daily, though it lay at +the distance of five miles. This we, in good weather, accomplished +conveniently enough; but it proved occasionally a serious and toilsome +task through wind and rain, or keen frost and deep snow, when winter +days and the mountain blasts came on. + +"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the +Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an _out-bye herding_, under the same +employer. In the winter season either I or some other of the family +assisted him; but so often as the weather was fine, we went to a school +instituted by a farmer in the neighbourhood for behoof of his own +family. When by and by I went to herd the _hirsel_ which my father +formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and +was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another _hirsel_ +lying contiguous, and which my elder brother herded, was for the summer +season of the year added to mine, so that this already large was made +larger; but exempted as I was from attending to aught else but my flock, +I had pleasant days, for I loved the wilds among which it had become +alike my destiny and duty to walk at will, and 'view the sheep thrive +bonnie.' The hills of Ettrick are generally wild and green, and those of +them on which I daily wandered, musing much and writing often, were as +high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality +arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the +most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy +thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him. +Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of +bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the +ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On +the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the +majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul, +that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so +vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always +enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake-- + + "'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain + Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign, + In numbers fearless all as unconfined, + And wild as wailings of the desert wind.' + +"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains, +and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results +of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog--his constant +companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would +little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to +pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the +loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the +while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I +came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at +any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow +these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an +epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:-- + + "'My early years were pass'd far on + The hills of Ettrick wild and lone; + Through summer sheen and winter shade + Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd. + In bold enthusiastic glee + I sung rude strains of minstrelsy, + Which mingling with died o'er the dale, + Unheeded as the plover's wail. + Oft where the waving rushes shed + A shelter frail around my head, + Weening, though not through hopes of fame, + To fix on these more lasting claim, + I'd there secure in rustic scroll + The wayward fancies of the soul. + Even where yon lofty rocks arise, + Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies, + Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath + The colder cone of drifted wreath, + I noted them afar from ken, + Till ink would freeze within the pen; + So deep the spell which bound the heart + Unto the bard's undying art-- + So rapt the charm that still beguiled + The minstrel of the mountains wild.' + +"The ancients had a maxim--'Revenge is sweet.' In rural, as well as in +other life, there are things said and done which are more or less +ungenerous. These, if at any time they came my way, I repelled as best I +might. But I did not stop here; whether such matters, when occurring, +might concern myself as an individual or not, I took it upon me, as if I +had been a 'learned judge,' to write satires upon such persons as I knew +or conceived to have spoken or acted in aught contrary to good manners. +These squibs were written through the impulse of offended feeling, or +the stirrings of that injudicious spirit which sometimes prompts a man +to exercise a power merely because he possesses it. They were still, +after all, only as things of private experiment, and not intended ever +to go forth to the world--though it happened otherwise. I usually +carried a lot of these writings in my hat, and by and by, unlike most +other young authors, I got a publisher unsought for. This was the wind, +which, on a wild day, swept my hat from my head, and tattering its +contents asunder from their fold, sent them away over hill and dale like +a flock of wild fowl. I recovered some where they had halted in bieldy +places; others of them went further, and fell into other hands, and +particularly into those of a neighbour, who, a short while previously, +had played an unmanly part relating to a sheep and the march which ran +between us. He found his unworthy proceeding boldly discussed, in an +epistle which, I daresay, no other carrier would ever have conveyed to +him but the unblushing mountain blast. He complained to others, whom he +found more or less involved in his own predicament, and the thing went +disagreeably abroad. My master, through good taste and feeling, was +vexed, as I understood, that I should have done anything that gave +ground for accusation, though he did not mention the subject to myself; +but my father, some days after the mischief had commenced, came to me +upon the hill, and not in very good humour, disapproved of my imprudent +conduct. As for the consequences of this untoward event, it proved the +mean of revealing what I had hitherto concealed--procuring for me a sort +of local popularity little to be envied. I made the best improvement of +it, as I then thought, that lay in my power--by writing a satire upon +myself. + +"I continued shepherd at Deloraine two years, and then went in the same +capacity to the late Mr Knox of Todrigg; and if at the former place I +had been well and happy, here I was still more so. His son William, the +poet of 'The Lonely Hearth,' paid me much friendly attention. He +commended my verses, and augured my success as one of the song-writers +of my native land. In those days, I did not write with the most remote +view to publication. My aim did not extend beyond the gratification of +hearing my mountain strains sung by lad or lass, as time and place might +favour. And when, in the dewy gloaming of a summer eve, returning home +from the hill, and 'the kye were in the loan,' I did hear this much, I +thought, no doubt, that + + "'The swell and fall of these wild tones + Were worth the pomp of a thousand thrones.' + +"William Crozier, author of 'The Cottage Muse,' was also my neighbour +and friend at Todrigg, during the summer part of the year; and even at +this hour I feel delight in recalling to memory the happy harmony of +thought and feeling that blended with and enhanced the genial sunshine +of those departed days. I rejoice to dwell upon those remote and +rarely-trodden pastoral solitudes, among which my lot in the early years +of life was so continually cast; few may well conceive how distinctly I +can recall them. Memory, which seems often to constitute the mind +itself, more, perhaps, than any other faculty, can set them so brightly +before me, as if they were painted on a dark midnight sky with brushes +dipped in the essence of living light. To appreciate thoroughly the +grandeur of the mountain solitudes, it is necessary to have dwelt among +the scenes, and to have looked upon them at every season of the +ever-changing year. They are fresh with solemn beauty, when bathed in +the deep dews of a summer morning; or in autumn, if you have attained to +the border of the mystery which has overhung your path, and therefore to +a station high enough for the survey, all that meets the eye shall be as +a dream of poetry itself. The deep folds of white vapour fill up glen +and hollow, till the summit of the mountains, near and far away--far as +sight itself can penetrate--are only seen tinged with the early radiance +of the sun, the whole so combined as to appear a limitless plain of +variegated marble, peaceful as heaven, and solemnly serene as eternity. +What Winter writes with his frozen finger I need not state. When the +venerable old man, Gladstanes, perished among the stormy blasts of these +wilds, I was one of about threescore of men who for three days traversed +them in search of the dead. Then was the scenery of the mountains +impressive, much beyond what can well be spoken. The bridal that loses +the bride through some wayward freak of the fair may be sad enough; so +also the train, in its dark array, that conveys the familiar friend to +the chamber where the light of nature cannot come. But in this latter +case, the hearts that still beat, necessarily know that their part is +resignation, and suspense and anxiety mingle not in the mood of the +living, as it relates to the dead; but otherwise is it with those who +seem already constituting the funeral train of one who should have +been--yet who is not there to be buried. + + "'The feeling is nameless that makes us unglad, + And a strange, wild dismayment it brings; + Which yet hath no match in the solemn and sad + Desolation of men and of things. + + * * * * * + + "'The hill-foxes howl'd round the wanderer's way, + When his aim and his pathway were lost; + And effort has then oft too much of dismay + To pay well the toil it may cost. + If fate has its privilege, death has its power, + And is fearful where'er it may fall, + But worse it may seem 'mong the blasts of the moor, + Where all that approaches portends to devour, + Nor fixes till first it appal. + + "'No mercy obtains in the tempests that rave, + By the sky-frozen elements fed, + And there comes no hand that is willing to save, + And soothe, till the spirit be fled; + But the storms round the thrones of the wilderness break + O'er the frail in the solitude cast, + And howl in their strength and impatience to take + Their course to commix with the roar of the lake + Where it flings forth its foam on the blast. + + "'Lo! 'neath where the heath hangs so dark o'er yon peak, + Another of Adam lay lone, + Where the bield could not shelter the weary and weak, + By the strife of the tempest o'erthrown. + No raven had fed, and the hill-fox had fled, + If there he had yet come abroad, + And the stillness reign'd deep o'er his cold moorland bed, + Which came down in the power of the sleep of the dead + When the spirit return'd to its God.' + + * * * * * + +These are a few out of many more lines written on this subject, which at +the time was so deeply interesting to mind and heart." + +Mr Riddell here states that his poetical style of composition about this +period underwent a considerable change. He laid aside his wayward wit +for serious sentiment, an improvement which he ascribes to his +admiration of the elegant strains of his friend, young Knox. + +"My fortune in life," he proceeds, "had not placed me within the reach +of a library, and I had read almost none; and although I had attempted +to write, I merely followed the course which instinct pointed out. Need +I state further, that if in these days I employed my mind and pen among +the mountains as much as possible, my thoughts also often continued to +pursue the same practice, even when among others, by the 'farmer's +ingle.' I retired to rest when others retired, but if not outworn by +matters of extra toil, the ardour of thought, through love of the poet's +undying art, would, night after night for many hours, debar the inroads +of sleep. The number of schools which I have particularised as having +attended may occasion some surprise at the deficiency of my scholarship. +For this, various reasons are assignable, all of which, however, hinge +upon these two formidable obstacles--the inconveniency of local +position, and the thoughtless inattention of youth. In remote country +places, long and rough ways, conjoined not unfrequently with wild +weather, require that children, before they can enter school, be pretty +well grown up; consequently, they quit it the sooner. They are often +useful at home in the summer season, or circumstances may destine them +to hire away. Among these inconveniences, one serious drawback is, that +the little education they do get is rarely obtained continuously, and +regular progress is interrupted. Much of what has been gained is lost +during the intervals of non-attendance, and every new return to the book +is little else than a new beginning. So was it with me. At the time when +my father hired a teacher into his house, it was for what is termed the +winter quarter, and I was then somewhat too young to be tied down to the +regular routine of school discipline; and if older when boarded away, +the other obstruction to salutary progress began to operate grievously +against me. I acquired bit by bit the common education--reading, +writing, and arithmetic. So far as I remember, grammar was not much +taught at any of these schools, and the spelling of words was very +nearly as little attended to as the meaning which they are appointed to +convey was explained or sought after. + +"But the non-understanding of words is less to be marvelled at than that +a man should not understand himself. At this hour I cannot conceive how +I should have been so recklessly careless about learning and books when +at school, and yet so soon after leaving it seriously inclined towards +them. I see little else for it than to suppose that boys who are bred +where they have no companions are prone to make the most of +companionship when once attained to. And then, in regard to books, as of +these I rarely got more than what might serve as a whet to the appetite, +I might have the desire of those whose longings after what they would +obtain are increased by the difficulties which interpose between them +and the possession. One book which in school I sometimes got a glance +of, I would have given anything to possess: this was a small volume +entitled, 'The Three Hundred Animals.' + +"I cannot forbear mentioning that, when at Deloraine, I was greatly +advantaged by an old woman, called Mary Hogg, whose cottage stood on an +isolated corner of the lands on which my flock pastured. Her husband had +been a shepherd, who, many years previous to this period, perished in a +snow-storm. In her youth she had opportunities of reading history, and +other literature, and she did not only remember well what she had read, +but could give a distinct and interesting account of it. In going my +wonted rounds, few days there were on which I did not call and listen to +her intelligent conversation. She was a singularly good woman--a sincere +Christian; and the books which she lent me were generally of a religious +kind, such as the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the 'Holy War;' but here I +also discovered a romance, the first which I had ever seen. It was +printed in the Gothic letter, and entitled 'Prissimus, the Renowned +Prince of Bohemia.' Particular scenes and characters in 'Ivanhoe' +reminded me strikingly of those which I had formerly met with in this +old book of black print. And I must mention that few books interested me +more than 'Bailey's Dictionary.' Day after day I bore it to the +mountains, and I have an impression that it was a more comprehensive +edition of the work than I have ever since been able to meet with. + +"At Todrigg my reading was extended; and having begun more correctly to +appreciate what I did read, the intention which I had sometimes +entertained gathered strength: this was to make an effort to obtain a +regular education. The consideration of the inadequacy of my means had +hitherto bridled my ambition; but having herded as a regular shepherd +nearly three years, during which I had no occasion to spend much of my +income, my prospects behoved to be a little more favourable. It was in +this year that the severest trial which had yet crossed my path had to +be sustained. The death of my father overthrew my happier mood; at the +same time, instead of subduing my secret aim, the event rather +strengthened my determination. My portion of my father's worldly effects +added something considerable to my own gainings; and, resigning my +situation, I bade farewell to the crook and plaid. I went to Biggar, in +Clydesdale, where I knew the schoolmaster was an approved classical +scholar. Besides, my Glencotha reminiscences tended to render me partial +to this part of the world, and in the village I had friends with whom I +could suitably reside. The better to insure attention to what I was +undertaking, I judged it best to attend school during the usual hours. A +learner was already there as old in years, and nearly as stout in form, +as myself, so that I escaped from the wonderment which usually attaches +to singularity much more comfortably than I anticipated. There were also +two others in the school, who had formerly gone a considerable way in +the path of classic lore, and had turned aside, but who, now repenting +of their apostasy, returned to their former faith. These were likewise +well grown up, and I may state that they are now both eminent as +scholars and public men. The individual first mentioned and I sat in the +master's desk, which he rarely, if ever, occupied himself; and although +we were diligent upon the whole, yet occasionally our industry and +conduct as learners were far from deserving approbation. To me the +confinement was frequently irksome and oppressive, especially when the +days were bright with the beauty of sunshine. There were ways, woods, +and even wilds, not far apart from the village, which seemed eternally +wooing the step to retirement, and the mind to solitary contemplation. +Some verses written in this school have been preserved, which will +convey an idea of the cast of feeling which produced them:-- + + "Discontented and uncheery, + Of this noise and learning weary, + Half my mind, to madness driven, + Woos the lore by nature given; + 'Mong fair fields and flowing fountains, + Lonely glens and lofty mountains, + Charm'd with nature's wildest grandeur, + Lately wont was I to wander, + Wheresoever fancy led me, + Came no barrier to impede me; + Still from early morn till even, + In the light of earth and heaven, + Musing on whatever graces, + Livelier scenes or lonelier places, + Till a nameless pleasure found me + Living, like a dream, around me,-- + How, then, may I be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented! + + "'Still, oh! still 'twere lovelier rather + To be roaming through the heather; + And where flow'd the stream so glassy, + 'Mong its flowers and margins mossy, + Where the flocks at noon their path on + Came to feed by birk and hawthorn; + Or upon the mountain lofty, + Seated where the wind blew softly, + With my faithful friend beside me, + And my plaid from sun to hide me, + And the volume oped before me, + I would trace the minstrel's story, + Or mine own wild harp awaken, + 'Mid the deep green glens of braken, + Free and fearlessly revealing + All the soul of native feeling. + + "''Stead of that eternal humming, + To the ear for ever coming-- + Humming of these thoughtless beings, + In their restless pranks and pleaings; + And the sore-provoked preceptor + Roaring, "Silence!"--O'er each quarter + Silence comes, as o'er the valley, + Where all rioted so gaily, + When the sudden bursting thunder + Overpowers with awe and wonder-- + Till again begins the fuss-- + 'Master, Jock's aye nippin' us!' + I could hear the fountains flowing, + Where the light hill-breeze was blowing, + And the wild-wing'd plover wailing, + Round the brow of heaven sailing; + Bleating flocks and skylarks singing, + Echo still to echo ringing-- + Sounds still, still so wont to waken + That no note of them is taken, + Yet which seem to lend assistance + To the blessing of existence. + + "'Who shall trow thee wise or witty, + Lore of "the Eternal City," + Or derive delight and pleasure + From the blood-stain'd deeds of Cćsar, + Thus bewildering his senses + 'Mong these cases, moods, and tenses? + Still the wrong-placed words arranging, + Ever in their finals changing; + Out and in with hic and hockings, + Like a loom for working stockings. + Latin lords and Grecian heroes-- + Oh, ye gods, in mercy spare us! + How may mortals be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented!' + +"My teacher, the late Richard Scott, was an accurate classical scholar, +which perhaps accounts for his being, unlike some others of his +profession, free from pedantry. He was kind-hearted and somewhat +disposed to indolence, loving more to converse with one of my years than +to instruct him in languages. He had seen a good deal of the world and +its ways, and I learned much from him besides Greek and Latin. We were +great friends and companions, and rarely separate when both of us were +unengaged otherwise. + +"I bore aloof from making many acquaintances; yet, ere long, I became +pretty extensively acquainted with the people of the place. It went +abroad that I was a bard from the mountains, and the rumour affixed to +me a popularity which I did not enjoy. A party of young men in the +village had prepared themselves to act 'the Douglas Tragedy,' and wished +a song, which was to be sung between this and the farce. The air was of +their own fixing, and which, in itself, was wild and beautiful; but, +unfortunately, like many others of our national airs possessed of these +qualities, it was of a measure such as rendered it difficult to write +words for. Since precluded from introducing poetic sentiment, I +substituted a dramatic plot, and being well sung by alternate voices, +the song was well received, and so my fame was enhanced. + +"It was about this time that I wrote 'The Crook and Plaid'--not by +request, but with the intention of supplanting a song, I think of +English origin, called 'The Plough-boy,' and of a somewhat questionable +character. 'The Crook and Plaid' accomplished the end intended, and soon +became popular throughout the land. So soon as I got a glimpse of the +Roman language, I began to make satisfactory progress in its +acquisition. But I daily wrote more or less in my old way--now also +embracing in my attempts prose as well as verse. I wrote a Border +Romance. This was more strongly than correctly expressed. Hogg, who took +the trouble of reading it, gave me his opinion, by saying that there +were more rawness and more genius in it than in any work he had seen. +It, sometime afterwards, had also the honour of being read--for I never +offered it for publication--by one who felt much interest in the +characters and plot--Professor Wilson's lady--who, alas! went too early +to where he himself also now is; lost, though not to fond recollection, +yet to love and life below. I contributed some papers to the _Clydesdale +Magazine_, and I sent a sort of poetic tale to the editor, telling him +to do with it whatever he might think proper. He published it +anonymously, and it was sold about Clydesdale. + +"My intention had been to qualify myself for the University, and, +perhaps in regard to Latin and Greek acquirements, I might have +proceeded thither earlier than I ventured to do; but having now made +myself master of my more immediate tasks, I took more liberty. A +gentleman, who, on coming home after having made his fortune abroad, +took up his residence at Biggar. I had, in these days, an aversion to +coming into contact with rich strangers, and although he lived with a +family which I was accustomed to visit, I bore aloof from being +introduced to him. But he came to me one day on the hill of +Bizzie-berry, and frankly told me that he wished to be acquainted with +me, and therefore had taken the liberty of introducing himself. I found +excuse for not dining with him on that day, but not so the next, nor for +many days afterwards. He was intellectual--and his intelligence was only +surpassed by his generosity. He gave me to understand that his horse was +as much at my service as his own; and one learned, by and by, to keep +all wishes and wants as much out of view as possible, in case that they +should be attended to when you yourself had forgotten them. When he +began to rally me about my limited knowledge of the world, I knew that +some excursion was in contemplation. We, on one occasion, rode down the +Clyde, finding out, so far as we might, all things, both natural and +artificial, worthy of being seen; and when at Greenock, he was anxious +that we should have gone into the Highlands, but I resisted; for +although not so much as a shade of the expenses was allowed to fall on +me, I felt only the more ashamed of the extent of them. + +"I had become acquainted with a number of people whom I delighted to +visit occasionally; one family in particular, who lived amid the beauty +of 'the wild glen sae green.' The song now widely known by this name I +wrote for a member of this delightful family, who at that time herded +one of the _hirsels_ of his father's flocks on 'the heathy hill.' With +the greater number of persons in the district possessing literary tastes +I became more or less intimate. The schoolmasters I found friendly and +obliging; one of these, in particular (now holding a higher office in +the same locality), I often visited. His high poetic taste convinced me +more and more of the value of mental culture, and tended to subdue me +from those more rugged modes of expression in which I took a pride in +conveying my conceptions. With this interesting friend I sometimes took +excursions into rural regions more or less remote, and once we journeyed +to the south, when I had the pleasure of introducing him to the Ettrick +Shepherd. But of my acquaintances, I valued few more than my modest and +poetic friend, the late James Brown of Symington.[2] Though humble in +station, he was high in virtuous worth. His mind, imbued with and +regulated by sound religious and moral principle, was as ingenious and +powerful as his heart was 'leal, warm, and kind.' + +"Entering the University of Edinburgh, I took for the first session the +Greek and Latin classes. Attending them regularly, I performed the +incumbent exercises much after the manner that others did--only, as I +have always understood it to be a rare thing with the late Mr Dunbar, +the Greek Professor, to give much praise to anything in the shape of +poetry, I may mention that marked merit was ascribed to me in his class +for a poetical translation of one of the odes of Anacreon. I had laid +the translation on his desk, in an anonymous state, one day before the +assembling of the class. He read it and praised it, expressing at the +same time his anxiety to know who was the translator; but the translator +having intended not to acknowledge it, kept quiet. He returned to it, +and praising it anew, expressed still more earnestly his desire to know +the author; and so I made myself known, as all _great unknowns_ I think, +with the exception of Junius, are sooner or later destined to do. + +"Of the philosophical classes, those that I liked best were the Logic +and Moral Philosophy--particularly the latter. I have often thought that +it is desirable, could it be possibly found practicable, to have all the +teachers of the higher departments of education not merely of high +scholastic acquirements, but of acknowledged genius. Youth reveres +genius, and delights to be influenced by it; heart and spirit are kept +awake and refreshed by it, and everything connected with its +forthgivings is rendered doubly memorable. It fixes, in a certain sense, +the limit of expectation, and the prevailing sentiment is--we are under +the tuition of the highest among those on earth who teach; if we do not +profit here, we may not hope to do so elsewhere. These remarks I make +with a particular reference to the late Professor Wilson, under the +influence of whose genius and generous warmth of heart many have felt as +I was wont to feel. If it brings hope and gladness to love and esteem +the living, it also yields a satisfaction, though mingled with regret, +to venerate the dead; and now that he is no more, I cannot forbear +recording how he treated a man from the mountains who possessed no +previous claim upon his attention. I had no introduction to him, but he +said that he had heard of me, and would accept of no fee for his class +when I joined it; at least he would not do so, he said, till I should be +able to inform him whether or not I had been pleased with his lectures. +But it proved all the same in this respect at the close as it was at the +commencement of the session. He invited me frequently to his house as a +friend, when other friends were to meet him there, besides requesting me +to come and see him and his family whenever I could make it convenient. +He said that his servant John was very perverse, and would be sure to +drive me by like all others, if he possibly could; so he gave me a +watchword, which he thought John, perverse as he was, would not venture +to resist. I thus became possessed of a privilege of which I did not +fail to avail myself frequently--a privilege which might well have been +gratifying to such as were much less enthusiastic with regard to +literary men and things than I was. To share in the conversation of +those possessed of high literary taste and talent, and, above all, of +poetic genius, is the highest enjoyment afforded by society; and if it +be thus gratifying, it is almost unnecessary to add that it is also +advantageous in no ordinary degree, if, indeed, properly appreciated +and improved. Any one who ever met the late Professor in the midst of +his own happy family, constituted as it was when I had this pleasure, +was not likely soon to forget a scene wherein so much genius, kindness, +loveliness, and worth were blended. If the world does not think with a +deep and undying regret of what once adorned it, and it has now lost, +through the intervention of those shadows which no morning but the +eternal one can remove, I am one, at least, who in this respect cannot +follow its example. + +"Edinburgh, with its 'palaces and towers,' and its many crowded ways, +was at first strangely new to me, being as different, in almost all +respects, to what I had been accustomed as it might seem possible for +contrariety to make earthly things. Though I had friends in it, and +therefore was not solitary, yet its tendency, like that of the noisy and +restless sea, was to render me melancholy. Some features which the +congregated condition of mankind exhibited penetrated my heart with +something like actual dismay. I had seen nothing of the sort, nor yet +even so much as a semblance of it, and therefore I had no idea that +there existed such a miserable shred of degradation, for example, as a +cinder-woman--desolate and dirty as her employment--bowed down--a shadow +among shadows--busily prone, beneath the sheety night sky, to find out +and fasten upon the crumb, whose pilgrimage certainly had not improved +it since falling from the rich man's table. Compassion, though not +naturally so, becomes painful when entertained towards those whom we +believe labouring under suffering which we fain would but cannot +alleviate. + +"I had enough of curiosity for wishing to see all those things which +others spoke of, and characterised as worthy of being seen; but I +contented myself meanwhile with a survey of the city's external +attributes. In a week or two, however, my friend A. F. Harrower, +formerly mentioned, having come into town from Clydesdale, took pleasure +in finding out whatever could interest or gratify me, and of conveying +me thither. With very few exceptions, every forenoon he called at my +lodgings, leaving a note requesting me to meet him at some specified +time and place. I sometimes sent apologies, and at other times went +personally to apologise; but neither of these methods answered well. +Through his persevering attentions towards me, I met with much agreeable +society, and saw much above as well as somewhat below the earth, which I +might never otherwise have seen. In illustration of the latter fact, I +may state that, having gone to London, he returned with two Englishmen, +when he invited me to assist them in exploring the battle-field of +Pinkie. We terminated our excursion by descending one of Sir John Hope's +coal-pits. These humorous and frank English associates amused themselves +by bantering my friend and myself about the chastisement which Scotland +received from the sister kingdom at Pinkie. As did the young rustic +countryman--or, at least, was admonished to do--so did I. When going +away to reside in England, he asked his father if he had any advice to +give him. 'Nane, Jock, nane but this,' he said; 'dinna forget to avenge +the battle o' Pinkie on them.' Ere I slept I wrote, in support of our +native land, the song--'Ours is the land of gallant hearts;' and thus, +in my own way, 'avenged the battle of Pinkie.' + +"One of two other friends with whom I delighted to associate was R. B., +an early school companion, who, having left the mountains earlier than I +did, had now been a number of years in Edinburgh. Of excellent head and +generous heart, he loved the wild, green, and deep solitudes of nature. +The other--G. M'D.--was of powerful and bold intellect, and remarkable +for a retentive memory. Each of us, partial to those regions where +nature strives to maintain her own undisturbed dominion, on all holidays +hied away from the city, to the woodland and mountainous haunts, or the +loneliness of the least frequented shores of the sea. The spirit of our +philosophy varied much--sometimes profound and solemn, and sometimes +humorous; but still we philosophised, wandering on. They were members of +a literary society which met once a week, and which I joined. My +propensity to study character and note its varieties was here afforded a +field opening close upon me; but I was also much profited by performing +my part in carrying forward the business of the institution. During all +the sessions that I attended the University, but especially as these +advanced toward their termination, I entered into society beyond that +which might be regarded as professionally literary. I had an idea then, +as I still have, that, in every process of improvement, care should be +taken that one department of our nature is not cultivated to the neglect +of another. There are two departments--the intellectual and the +moral;--the one implying all that is rational, the other comprising +whatever pertains to feeling and passion, or, more simply, there are the +head and the heart; and if the intellect is to be cultivated, the heart +is not to be allowed to run into wild waste, nor to sink into systematic +apathy. Lore-lighted pages and unremitting abstract studies will make a +man learned; but knowledge is not wisdom; and to know much is not so +desirable, because it is not so beneficial, either to ourselves or +others, as to understand, through the more generous and active +sympathies of our nature, how the information which we possess may be +best applied to useful purposes. This we shall not well know, if the +head be allowed or encouraged to leave the heart behind. If we forget +society it will forget us, and, through this estrangement, a sympathetic +knowledge of human nature may be lost. Thus, in the haunts of seclusion +and solitary thought our acquirements may only prove availing to +ourselves as matters of self-gratification. The benevolent affections, +which ought not merely to be allowed, but taught to expand, may thus not +only be permitted but encouraged to contract, and the exercise of that +studious ingenuity, which perhaps leads the world to admire the +achievements of learning, thus deceive us into a state of existence +little better than cold selfishness itself. Sir Isaac Newton, who soared +so high and travelled so far on the wing of abstract thought, gathering +light from the stars that he might convey it in intelligible shape to +the world, seems to have thought, high as the employment was, that it +was not good, either for the heart or mind of man, to be always away +from that intercourse with humanity and its affairs which is calculated +to awaken and sustain the sympathies of life; and therefore turned to +the contemplation of Him who was _meek and lowly_. And no countenance +has been afforded to monks and hermits who retired from the world, +though it even was to spend their lives in meditation and prayer; for +Heaven had warned man, at an early date, not to withhold the +compassionate feelings of the heart, and the helping-hand, from any in +whom he recognised the attributes of a common nature, saying to him, +'See that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh.' + +"My last year's attendance at the College Philosophical Classes was at +St Andrews. I had a craving to acquaint myself with a city noted in +story, and I could not, under the canopy of my native sky, have planted +the step among scenes more closely interwoven with past national +transactions, or fraught with more interesting associations. In +attending the Natural Philosophy Class, not being proficient in +mathematic lore, I derived less advantage than had otherwise been the +case with me. Yet I did not sit wholly in the shade, notwithstanding +that the light which shone upon me did not come from that which Campbell +says yielded 'the lyre of Heaven another string.' A man almost always +finds some excuse for deficiency; and I have one involving a philosophy +which I think few will be disposed to do otherwise than acquiesce +in--namely, that it is a happy arrangement in the creation and history +of man, that all minds are not so constituted as to have the same +predilections, or to follow the same bent. Considering that I had +started at a rather late hour of life to travel in the paths of +learning, and having so many things, interesting and important, to +attend to by the way, it was perhaps less remarkable that I should be +one who 'neither kenn'd nor cared' much about lines that had no breadth, +and points which were without either breadth or length, than that I +should have felt gratified to find on my arrival some of my simple +strains sung in a city famed for its scientific acquirements. + +"The ruins which intermingle with the scenery and happy homes of St +Andrews, like gray hairs among those of another hue, rendered venerable +the general aspect of the place. But I did not feel only the city +interesting, but the whole of Fifeshire. By excursions made on the +monthly holidays then as well as subsequently, when in after-years I +returned to visit friends in the royal realm, I acquainted myself with a +goodly number of those haunts and scenes which history and tradition +have rendered attractive. A land, however, or any department of it, +whatever may be its other advantages, is most to be valued in respect of +the intelligence or worth of its inhabitants. And if so, then I am proud +to aver that in Fife I came to possess many intelligent and excellent +friends. Many of these have gone to another land--'the land o' the +leal,' leaving the places which now know them no more, the more +regretfully endeared to recollection. Of those friends who survive, I +cannot forbear an especial mention of one, who is now a professor in the +college in which he was then only a student. A man cannot be truly great +unless he also be good, and I do not alone value him on the colder and +statelier eminence of high intellectual powers and scientific +acquirements, but also, if not much rather, for his generous worth and +his benevolent feeling. My friend is one in whom these qualities are +combined, and as I sincerely think, I will likewise freely say, that +those will assuredly find a time, sooner or later, greatly to rejoice, +whose fate has been so favourable as to place them under the range and +influence of his tuition. + +"I studied at St Andrews College under the late Dr Jackson, who was an +eminent philosopher and friendly man; also under Mr Duncan, of the +Mathematical Chair, whom I regarded as a personification of unworldly +simplicity, clothed in high and pure thought; and I regularly attended, +though not enrolled as a regular student, the Moral Philosophy Class of +Dr Chalmers. Returning to Edinburgh and its university, I became +acquainted, through my friend and countryman, Robert Hogg, with R. A. +Smith, who was desirous that I should assist him with the works in which +he was engaged, particularly 'The Irish Minstrel,' and 'Select +Melodies.' Smith was a man of modest worth and superior intelligence; +peculiarly delicate in his taste and feeling in everything pertaining to +lyric poetry as well as music; his criticisms were strict, and, as some +thought, unnecessarily minute. Diffident and retiring, he was not got +acquainted with at once, but when he gave his confidence, he was found a +pleasant companion and warm-hearted friend. If, as he had sought my +acquaintance, I might have expected more frankness on our meeting, I +soon became convinced that his shyer cast arose alone from excess of +modesty, combined with a remarkable sensitiveness of feeling. Proudly +honourable, he seemed more susceptible of the influences of all sorts +that affect life than any man I ever knew; and, indeed, a little +acquaintance with him was only required to shew that his harp was strung +too delicately for standing long the tear and wear of this world. He had +done much for Scottish melody, both by fixing the old airs in as pure a +state as possible, and by adding to the vast number of these national +treasures some exquisite airs of his own. For a number of the airs in +the works just mentioned, but particularly in the 'Select Melodies,' he +had experienced difficulty in procuring suitable words, owing chiefly to +the crampness of the measures--a serious drawback which appears to +pervade, more or less, the sweetest melodies of other nations as well as +those of our own. A number of these I supplied as well as I could. + +"About this time the native taste for Scottish song in city society +seemed nearly, if not altogether lost, and a kind of songs, such as +'I've been roaming,' 'I'd be a butterfly,' 'Buy a broom,' 'Cherry-ripe,' +&c. (in which if the head contrived to find a meaning, it was still such +as the heart could understand nothing about), seemed alone to be +popular, and to prevail. R. A. Smith disliked this state of things, but, +perhaps, few more so than Mr P. M'Leod, who gave a most splendid +evidence of his taste in his 'Original National Melodies.' Both Smith +and M'Leod were very particular about the quality of the poetry which +they honoured with their music. M'Leod was especially careful in this +respect. He loved the lay of lofty and undaunted feeling as well as of +love and friendship; for his genius is of a manly tone, and has a bold +and liberal flow. And popular as some of the effusions in his work have +become, such as 'Oh! why left I my hame?' and 'Scotland yet!' many +others of them, I am convinced, will yet be popular likewise. When the +intelligence of due appreciation draws towards them, it will take them +up and delight to fling them upon the breezes that blow over the hills +and glens, and among the haunts and homes of the isle of unconquerable +men. To Mr M'Leod's 'National Melodies' I contributed a number of songs. +In the composition of these I found it desirable to lay aside, in some +considerable degree, my pastoral phraseology, for, as conveyed in such +productions, I observed that city society cared little about rural +scenery and sentiment. It was different with my kind and gifted friend +Professor Wilson. He was wont to say that he would not have given the +education, as he was pleased to term it, which I had received afar in +the green bosom of mountain solitude, and among the haunts and homes of +the shepherd--meaning the thing as applicable to poetry--for all that he +had received at colleges. Wilson had introduced my song, 'When the glen +all is still,' into the _Noctes_, and La Sapio composed music for it; +and not only was it sung in Drury-lane, but published in a sheet as the +production of a real shepherd; yet it did not become popular in city +life. In the country it had been popular previous to this, where it is +so still, and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it. + +"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the +'Songs of the Ark,'[3] were published by Blackwood. These, as published, +are not what they were at first, and were intended only to be short +songs of a sacred nature, unconnected by intervening narrative, for +which R. A. Smith wished to compose music. Unfortunately, his other +manifold engagements never permitted him to carry his intention into +practice; and seeing no likelihood of any decrease of these engagements, +I gave scope to my thoughts on the subject, and the work became what it +now is. But I ought to mention that this was not my first poetic +publication in palpable shape. Some years previously I published +stanzas, or a monody, on the death of Lord Byron. I had all along +thought much, and with something like mysterious awe, upon the eccentric +temperament, character and history of that great poet, and the tidings +which told the event of his demise impressed me deeply. Being in the +country, and remote from those who could exchange thoughts with me on +the occurrence, I resorted to writing. That which I advanced was much +mixed up with the result, if I may not say of former experience, yet of +former reflection, for I had entertained many conjectures concerning +what this powerful personage would or might yet do; and, indeed, his +wilful waywardness, together with the misery which he represented as +continually haunting him, constituted an impressive advertisement to the +world, and served to keep human attention awake towards him. + +"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write +rapidly: likely, too, they will write with energy, because not only the +head but also the heart is engaged. 'The Monody,' which is of a goodly +length, I finished in a few days; and though I felt a desire of having +it published, yet it lay over for a time, till, being in Edinburgh, a +friend shewed it to Dr Robert Anderson. I had been well satisfied with +the result, had the production accomplished nothing more than procured +me, as it did, the friendly acquaintance of this excellent, venerable +man. He knew more of the minutić of literature, together with the +character and habits of the literary men of his day, and of other days +also, than any I had then or have since met with; and he seemed to take +great pleasure in communicating his knowledge to others. He thought well +of 'The Monody,' and warmly advised me to publish it. It was published +accordingly by Mr John Anderson, bookseller, North Bridge, Edinburgh. + +"Some of the reviewers, in regard to the 'Songs of the Ark,' seemed to +think that a sufficiency of eastern scenery did not obtain in them. +Doubtless this was correct; but I remark, that if my object in the +undertaking had been to delineate scenery, I would not have turned my +attention to the East, the scenes of which I never saw. Human nature +being radically the same everywhere, a man, through the sympathies of +that nature, can know to a certain extent what are likely to be the +thoughts and feelings of his fellow-kind in any particular +circumstances--therefore he has data upon which he can venture to give a +representation of them; but it is very different from this in regard to +topographical phenomena. It was therefore not the natural, but, if I may +so call it, the moral scenery in which I was interested, more +particularly since the whole scene of nature here below was, shortly +after the period at which the poem commences, to become a blank of +desolate uniformity, as overwhelmed beneath a waste of waters. + +"At the risk of incurring the charge of vanity, I would venture to +adduce one or two of the favourable opinions entertained in regard to +some of the miscellaneous pieces which went to make up the volume of the +'Songs of the Ark.' Of the piece entitled 'Apathy,' Allan Cunningham +thus wrote:--'Although sufficiently distressful, it is a very bold and +original poem, such as few men, except Byron, would have conceived or +could have written.' Motherwell said of the 'Sea-gray Man,' that it was +'the best of all modern ballads.' This ballad, shortly after I had +composed it, I repeated to the Ettrick Shepherd walking on the banks of +the Yarrow, and he was fully more pleased with it than with anything of +mine I had made him acquainted with. He was wont to call me his +'assistant and successor;' and although this was done humorously, it yet +seemed to furnish him with a privilege on which he proceeded to approve +or disapprove very frankly, that in either case I might profit by his +remarks. He was pleased especially with the half mysterious way in which +I contrived to get quit of the poor old man at last. This, indeed, was a +contrivance; but the idea of the rest of the ballad was taken from an +old man, who had once been a sailor, and who was wont to come to my +mother's, in the rounds which he took in pursuit of charity at regular +periods of the year, so that we called him her pensioner. + +"The summer vacations of college years I passed in the country, +sometimes residing with my mother, and eldest brother, at a small farm +which he had taken at the foot of the Lammermuir hills, in East-Lothian, +called Brookside, and sometimes, when I wished a variety, with another +brother, at Dryden, in Selkirkshire. At both places I had enough of +time, not only for study, but also for what I may call amusement. The +latter consisted in various literary projects which I entered upon, but +particularly those of a poetic kind, and the writing of letters to +friends with whom I regularly, and I may say also copiously +corresponded; for in these we did not merely express immediate thoughts +and feelings of a more personal nature, but remarked with vigorous +frankness upon many standard affairs of this scene of things. To this +general rule of the manner of my life at this time, however, I must +mention an exception. A college companion and I, thinking to advantage +ourselves, and perhaps others, took a school at Fisherrow. The +speculation in the end, as to money matters, served us nothing. It was +easier to get scholars than to get much if anything for teaching them. +Yet neither was the former, in some respects, so easy as might have been +expected. The offspring of man, in that locality, may be regarded as in +some measure amphibious. Boys and girls equally, if not already in the +sea, were, like young turtles, sure to be pointing towards it with an +instinct too intense to err. I never met, indeed, with a race of beings +believed, or even suspected to be rational, that, provided immediate +impulses and inclinations could be gratified, cared so thoroughly little +for consequences. On warm summer days, when we caused the school door to +stand open, it is not easy to say how much of intense interest this +simple circumstance drew towards it. The squint of the unsettled eye was +on the door, out at which the heart and all its inheritance was off and +away long previously, and the more than ordinarily propitious moment for +the limbs following was only as yet not arrived. When that moment came, +off went one, followed by another; and down the narrow and dark lanes +of sooty houses. As well might the steps have proposed to pursue meteors +playing at hide-and-seek among the clouds of a midnight sky that the +tempest was troubling. Nevertheless, Colin Bell, who by virtue of his +ceaseless stir in the exercise of his heathen-god-like abilities, had +constituted himself captain of the detective band, would be up and at +hand immediately, and would say 'Master--sir, Young an' me will bring +them, sir, if ye'll let's.' It was just as good to 'let' as to hinder, +for, for others to be out thus, and he in, seemed to be an advantage +gained over Colin to which he could never be rightly reconciled. He was +bold and frank, and full of expedients in cases of emergency; especially +he appeared capable of rendering more reasons for an error in his +conduct than one could well have imagined could have been rendered for +anything done in life below. Another drawback in the case was, that one +could never be very seriously angry with him. If more real than +pretended at any time, his broad bright eye and bluff face, +magnificently lifted up, like the sun on frost-work, melted down +displeasure and threatened to betray all the policy depending on it; for +in the main never a bit of ill heart had Colin, though doubtlessly he +had in him, deeply established, a trim of rebellion against education +that seemed ever on the alert, and which repulsed even its portended +approach with a vigour resembling the electric energy of the torpedo. + +"As we did not much like this place, we did not remain long in it. I had +meanwhile, however, resources which brought relief. Those friends whose +society I most enjoyed occasionally paid us a visit from Edinburgh; and +in leisure hours I haunted the banks of the Esk, which, with wood, and +especially with wild-roses, are very beautiful around the church of +Inveresk. This beauty was heightened by contrast--for I have ever hated +the scenery of, and the effect produced by, sunny days and dirty +streets. Nor do the scenes where mankind congregate to create bustle, +'dirdum and deray,' often fail of making me more or less melancholy. In +the week of the Musselburgh Races, I only went out one day to toss about +for a few hours in the complicated and unmeaning crowd. I insert the +protest which I entered against it on my return:-- + + "'What boots this turmoil + Of uproar and folly-- + That renders the smile + Of creation unholy? + If that which we love + Is life's best assistant, + The thought still must rove + To the dear and the distant. + Would, then, that I were + 'Mid nature's wild grandeur-- + From this folly afar, + As I wont was to wander; + Where the pale cloudlets fly, + By the soft breezes driven, + And the mountains on high + Kiss the azure of heaven. + Where down the deep glen + The rivulet is rolling, + And few, few of men + Through the solitudes strolling. + Oh! bliss I could reap, + When day was returning; + O'er the wild-flowers asleep, + 'Mong the dews of the morning; + And there were it joy, + When the shades of the gloaming, + With the night's lullaby, + O'er the world were coming-- + To roam through the brake, + In the paths long forsaken; + My hill-harp retake, + And its warblings awaken. + The heart is in pain, + And the mind is in sadness-- + And when comes, oh! when, + The return of its gladness? + The forest shall fade + At the winter's returning, + And the voice of the shade + Shall be sorrow and mourning. + Man's vigour shall fail + As his locks shall grow hoary, + And where is the tale + Of his youth and his glory? + My life is a dream-- + My fate darkly furl'd; + I a hermit would seem + 'Mid the crowd of the world. + Oh! let me be free + Of these scenes that encumber, + And enjoy what may be + Of my days yet to number!' + +"I have dwelt at the greater length on these matters, trivial though +they be, in consequence of my non-intention of tracing minutely the +steps and stages of my probationary career. These, with me, I suppose, +were much like what they are and have been with others. My acquaintance +was a little extended with those that inhabit the land, and in some +cases a closer intimacy than mere acquaintance took place, and more +lasting friendships were formed. + +"My brother having taken a farm near Teviothead, I left Brookside, and +as all the members of the family were wont to account that in which my +mother lived their home, it of course was mine. But, notwithstanding +that the change brought me almost to the very border of the vale of my +nativity, I regretted to leave Brookside. It was a beautiful and +interesting place, and the remembrance of it is like what Ossian says of +joys that are past--'sweet and mournful to the soul.' I loved the place, +was partial to the peacefulness of its retirement, its solitude, and the +intelligence of its society. I was near the laird's library, and I had a +garden in the glen. The latter was formed that I might gather home to +it, when in musing moods among the mountains, the wild-flowers, in order +to their cultivation, and my having something more of a possessory right +over them. It formed a contrast to the scenery around, and lured to +relaxation. Occasionally 'the lovely of the land' brought, with +industrious delight, plants and flowers, that they might have a share in +adorning it. Even when I was from home it was, upon the whole, well +attended to; for although, according to taste or caprice, changes were +made, yet I readily forgave the annoyances that might attend alteration, +and especially those by the hands that sometimes printed me pleasing +compliments on the clay with the little stones lifted from the walks. If +the things which I have written and given to the world, or may yet give, +continue to be cared for, these details may not be wholly without use, +inasmuch as they will serve to explain frequent allusions which might +otherwise seem introduced at capricious random, or made without a +meaning. + +"Shortly after becoming a probationer, I came to reside in this +district, and, not long after, the preacher who officiated in the +preaching-station here died. The people connected with it wished me to +become his successor, which, after some difficulties on their part had +been surmounted, I became. I had other views at the time which were +promising and important; but as there had been untoward disturbances in +the place, owing to the lack of defined rights and privileges, I had it +in my power to become a peacemaker, and, besides, I felt it my duty to +comply with a call which was both cordial and unanimous. I now laid +wholly aside those things which pertain to the pursuits of romantic +literature, and devoted myself to the performance of incumbent duties. +In consequence of no house having been provided for the preacher, and no +one to be obtained but at a very inconvenient distance, I was in this +respect very inconveniently situated. Travelling nine miles to the scene +of my official duties, it was frequently my hap to preach in a very +uncomfortable condition, when, indeed, the wet would be pouring from my +arms on the Bible before me, and oozing over my shoes when the foot was +stirred on the pulpit floor. But, by and by, the Duke of Buccleuch built +a dwelling-house for me, the same which I still occupy." + +To the ministerial charge of the then preaching station of Teviothead Mr +Riddell was about to receive ordination, at the united solicitation of +his hearers, when he was suddenly visited with severe affliction. Unable +to discharge pulpit duty for a period of years, the pastoral +superintendence of the district was devolved on another; and on his +recovery, with commendable forbearance, he did not seek to interfere +with the new ecclesiastical arrangement. This procedure was generously +approved of by the Duke of Buccleuch, who conferred upon him the right +to occupy the manse cottage, along with a grant of land, and a small +annuity. + +Mr Riddell's autobiography proceeds:--"In the hope of soon obtaining a +permanent and comfortable settlement at Teviothead, I had ventured to +make my own, by marriage, her who had in heart been mine through all my +college years, and who for my sake had, in the course of these, rejected +wealth and high standing in life. The heart that, for the sake of leal +faith and love, could despise wealth and its concomitants, and brave the +risk of embracing comparative poverty, even at its best estate, was not +one likely overmuch to fear that poverty when it appeared, nor flinch +with an altered tone from the position which it had adopted, when it +actually came. This, much rather, fell to my part. It preyed upon my +mind too deeply not to prove injurious in its effects; and it did this +all the more, that the voice of love, true to its own law, had the words +of hope and consolation in it, but never those of complaint. It appeared +the _acmé_ of the severity of fate itself to have lived to be the mean +of placing a heart and mind so rich in disinterested affection on so +wild and waste a scene of trial. + +"From an experience of fourteen years, in which there were changes in +almost all things except in the affection which bound two hearts in one, +before the hands were united, it might be expected that I should give +some eminent admonitions concerning the imprudence of men, and +particularly of students, allowing their hearts to become interested in, +and the remembrance of their minds more fraught with the rich beauty of +auburn ringlets than in the untoward confusion, for example, of +irregular Greek verbs; yet I much fear that admonition would be of no +use. If their fate be woven of a texture similar to that of mine, how +can they help it? A man may have an idea that to cling to the shelter +which he has found, and indulge in the sleep that has overtaken him amid +the stormy blasts of the waste mountains, may be little else than +opening for himself the gates of death, yet the toils of the way through +which he has already passed may also have rendered him incapable of +resisting the dangerous rest and repose of his immediate accommodation. +In regard to my own love affairs, I, throughout all these long years +which I have specified, might well have adopted, as the motto of both +mind and heart, these lines-- + + "'Oh, poortith cauld and restless love, + Ye wreck my peace between ye.' + +I had, as has already been hinted, a rival, who, if not so devotedly +attached as I, nevertheless was by far too much so for any one who is +destined to love without encouragement. He was as rich in proportion as +I was poor. The gifts of love, called the gifts of friendship, which he +contrived to bestow were costly; mine, as fashioned forth by a higher +hand than that of art, might be equally rich and beautiful in the main, +yet wild-flowers, though yellow as the gold, and though wrapped in +rhymes, are light ware when weighed against the solid material. He, in +personal appearance, manners, and generosity of heart, was one with whom +it was impossible to be acquainted and not to esteem; and another +feature of this affair was, that we were friends, and almost constant +companions for some years. When in the country I had to be with him as +continually as possible; and when I went to the city, it was his wont to +follow me. Here, then, was a web strangely woven by the fingers of a +wayward fate. Feelings were brought into daily exercise which might seem +the least compatible with being brought into contact and maintained in +harmony. And these things, which are strictly true, if set forth in the +contrivances of romance might, or in all likelihood would, be pronounced +unnatural or overstrained. The worth and truth of the heart to which +these fond anxieties related left me no ground to fear for losing that +regard which I valued as 'light and life' itself; but in another way +there reached me a matchless misery, and which haunted me almost as +constantly as my own shadow when the sun shone. Considering the dark +uncertainty of my future prospects in life, that regard I felt it +fearful almost beyond measure even to seek to retain, incurring the +responsibility of marring the fortune of one whom nevertheless I could +not bear the thought of another than myself having the bliss of +rendering blessed. If selfishness be thus seen to exist even in love +itself, I would fain hope that it is of an elevated and peculiar kind, +and not that which grovels, dragging downwards, and therefore justly +deserving of the name. I am the more anxious in regard to this on +account of its being in my own case felt so deeply. It maintained its +ground with more or less firmness at all times, and ultimately +triumphed, in despite of all efforts made to the contrary over the +suggestions of prudence and even the sterner reasonings of the sense of +justice. In times of sadness and melancholy, which, like the preacher's +days of darkness, were many, when hope scarcely lit the gloom of the +heart on which it sat though the band of love was about its brow, I +busied myself in endeavouring to form resolutions to resign my +pretensions to the warmer regard of her who was the object of all this +serious solicitude; but neither she herself, nor time and place seemed, +so far as I could see, disposed in the least to aid me in these efforts +of self-control and denial; and, indeed, even at best, I much suspect +that the resolutions of lovers in such cases are only like the little +dams which the rivulet forms in itself by the frail material of stray +grass-piles, and wild-rose leaves, easily overturned by the next slight +impulse that the wave receives. In a ballad called 'Lanazine,' written +somewhat in the old irregular style, sentiments relating to this matter, +a little--and only a little--disguised, are set forth. The following is +a portion of these records, written from time to time for the sake of +preserving to the memory what might once be deeply interesting to the +heart:-- + + "'O who may love with warm true heart, + And then from love refrain? + Who say 'tis fit we now should part + And never meet again? + + "'The heart once broken bleeds no more, + And a deep sound sleep it hath, + Where the stir of pain ne'er travels o'er + The solitude of death. + + "'The moon is set, and the star is gone, + And the cure, though cruel, cures, + But the heart left lone must sorrow on, + While the tie of life endures. + + "'He had nor gold nor land, and trow'd + Himself unworthy all, + And sternly in his soul had vow'd + His fond love to recall. + + "'For her he loved he would not wrong, + Since fate would ne'er agree, + And went to part with a sore, sore heart, + In the bower of the greenwood tree. + + "'The dews were deep, and the leaves were green, + And the eve was soft and still; + But strife may reach the vale I ween, + Though no blasts be on the hill. + + "'The leaves were green, and the dews were deep, + And the foot was light upon + The grass and flowers, round the bower asleep; + But parting there could be none. + + "'He spoke the word with a struggle hard, + And the fair one forward sprung, + Nor ever wist, till like one too blest, + Her arms were round him flung. + + "'For the fair one whom he'd woo'd before, + While the chill night breezes sigh'd, + Could wot not why she loved him more + Than ere she thus was tried. + + "'A red--not weak--came o'er her cheek, + And she turn'd away anon; + But since nor he nor she could speak, + Still parting there could be none. + + "'I could have lived alone for thee,' + He said; 'So lived could I,' + She answer'd, while it seem'd as she + Had wish'd even then to die. + + "'For pale, pale grew her cheek I ween, + While his arms, around her thrown, + Left space no plea to come between, + So parting there could be none. + + "'She cool'd his brow with the heart's own drop, + While the brain seem'd burning there, + And her whisper reach'd the realm of hope + Through the darkness of despair. + + "'She bade his soul be still and free, + In the light of love to live, + And soothed it with the sympathy + Which a woman's heart can give. + + "'And it seem'd more than all before + E'er given to mortal man, + The radiance came, and with it bore + The angel of the dawn. + + "'For ever since Eve her love-bower would weave, + As the first of all her line, + No one on earth had had more of worth + Than the lovely Lanazine. + + "'And if Fortune's frown would o'er him come down, + Less marvel it may be, + Since he woo'd all while to make his own + A lovelier far than she.' + + * * * * * + +"Notwithstanding the ever-living solicitude and sad suffering +constituting the keen and trying experience of many years, as arising in +consequence of this attachment and untoward circumstances, it has +brought more than a sufficient compensation; and were it possible, and +the choice given, I would assuredly follow the same course, and suffer +it all over again, rather than be without 'that treasure of departed +sorrow' that is even now at my right hand as I write these lines. + +"'The Christian Politician'[4] was published during the time of my +indisposition. This work I had written at leisure hours, with the hopes +of its being beneficial to the people placed under my care, by giving +them a general and connected view of the principles and philosophical +bearing of the Christian religion. In exhorting them privately, I +discovered that many of them understood that religion better in itself, +than they appeared to comprehend the manner in which it stood in +connexion with the surrounding circumstances of this life. In other +words, they were acquainted with doctrines and principles whose +application and use, whether in regard to thought, or feeling, or daily +practice, they did not so clearly recognise. To remedy this state of +things, I wrote 'The Christian Politician' in a style as simple as the +subjects treated of in it would well admit of, giving it a +conversational cast, instead of systematic arrangement, that it might +be the less forbidding to those for whom it was principally intended. +Being published, however, at the time when, through my indisposition, I +could take no interest in it, it was sent forth in a somewhat more +costly shape than rightly suited the original design; and although +extensively introduced and well received, it was in society of a higher +order than that which it was its object chiefly to benefit. + +"My latest publication is a volume of 'Poems and Songs,'[5] published by +Messrs Sutherland and Knox of Edinburgh. 'The Cottagers of Glendale,' +the 'Lay of Life,' and some others of the compositions in this volume, +were written during the period of my convalescence; the songs are, for +the greater part, the production of 'the days of other years.' Many of +the latter had been already sung in every district of the kingdom, but +had been much corrupted in the course of oral transmission. These +wanderers of the hill-harp are now secured in a permanent form." + +To this autobiographical sketch it remains to be added, that Mr Riddell +is possessed of nearly all the qualities of a great master of the +Scottish lyre. He has viewed the national character where it is to be +seen in its most unsophisticated aspects, and in circumstances the most +favourable to its development. He has lived, too, among scenes the best +calculated to foster the poetic temperament. "He has got," wrote +Professor Wilson, "a poet's education: he has lived the greater part of +his days amidst pastoral scenes, and tended sheep among the green and +beautiful solitudes of nature." Sufficiently imaginative, he does not, +like his minstrel predecessor the Ettrick Shepherd, soar into the +regions of the supernatural, or roam among the scenes of the viewless +world. He sings of the mountain wilds and picturesque valleys of +Caledonia, and of the simple joys and habits of rural or pastoral life. +His style is essentially lyrical, and his songs are altogether true to +nature. Several of his songs, such as "Scotland Yet," "The Wild Glen sae +Green," "The Land of Gallant Hearts," and "The Crook and Plaid," will +find admirers while Scottish lyric poetry is read or sung. + +In 1855, Mr Riddell executed a translation of the Gospel of Matthew into +the Scottish language by command of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, a +performance of which only a limited number of copies have been printed +under the Prince's auspices. At present, he is engaged in preparing a +romance connected with Border history. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] A flock of sheep. + +[2] See Minstrel, vol. iii. p. 186. + +[3] "Songs of the Ark, with other Poems." Edin. 1831. 8vo. + +[4] "The Christian Politician, or the Right Way of Thinking." Edinburgh, +1844, 8vo. This work, now nearly out of print, we would especially +commend to the favourable attention of the Religious Tract Society.--ED. + +[5] "Poems, Songs, and Miscellaneous Pieces." Edinburgh, 1847, 12mo. + + + + +THE WILD GLEN SAE GREEN. + +AIR--_"The Posy, or Roslin Castle."_ + + + When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lying a' at rest, + And the gloamin' spreads its mantle gray o'er the world's dewy breast, + I'll take my plaid and hasten through yon woody dell unseen, + And meet my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + I'll meet her by the trysting-tree, that's stannin' a' alane, + Where I hae carved her name upon yon little moss gray stane, + There I will fauld her to my breast, and be mair bless'd I ween + Than a' that are aneath the sky, in the wild glen sae green. + + Her head reclined upon this heart, in simple bliss I'll share + The pure, pure kiss o' tender love that owns nae earthly care, + And spirits hovering o'er us shall bless the heartfelt scene, + While I woo my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + My fauldin' plaid shall shield her frae the gloamin's chilly gale; + The star o' eve shall mark our joy, but shall not tell our tale-- + Our simple tale o' tender love--that tauld sae oft has been + To my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + It may be sweet at morning hour, or at the noon o' day, + To meet wi' those that we lo'e weel in grove or garden gay; + But the sweetest bliss o' mortal life is at the hour o' e'en, + Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + O! I could wander earth a' o'er, nor care for aught o' bliss, + If I might share, at my return, a joy sae pure as this; + And I could spurn a' earthly wealth--a palace and a queen, + For my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green! + + + + +SCOTIA'S THISTLE. + + + Scotia's thistle guards the grave, + Where repose her dauntless brave; + Never yet the foot of slave + Has trode the wilds of Scotia. + Free from tyrant's dark control-- + Free as waves of ocean roll-- + Free as thoughts of minstrel's soul, + Still roam the sons of Scotia. + + Scotia's hills of hoary hue, + Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue, + Watering with its dearest dew + The heathy locks of Scotia. + Down each green-wood skirted vale, + Guardian spirits, lingering, hail + Many a minstrel's melting tale, + As told of ancient Scotia. + + When the shades of eve invest + Nature's dew-bespangled breast, + How supremely man is blest + In the glens of Scotia! + There no dark alarms convey + Aught to chase life's charms away; + There they live, and live for aye, + Round the homes of Scotia. + + Wake, my hill harp! wildly wake! + Sound by lee and lonely lake, + Never shall this heart forsake + The bonnie wilds of Scotia. + Others o'er the ocean's foam + Far to other lands may roam, + But for ever be my home + Beneath the sky of Scotia! + + + + +THE LAND OF GALLANT HEARTS. + + + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of lovely forms, + The island of the mountain-harp, + The torrents and the storms; + The land that blooms with freeman's tread, + And withers with the slave's, + Where far and deep the green woods spread, + And wild the thistle waves. + + Ere ever Ossian's lofty voice + Had told of Fingal's fame, + Ere ever from their native clime + The Roman eagles came, + Our land had given heroes birth, + That durst the boldest brave, + And taught above tyrannic dust, + The thistle tufts to wave. + + What need we say how Wallace fought, + And how his foemen fell? + Or how on glorious Bannockburn + The work went wild and well? + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of honour'd graves, + Whose wreath of fame shall ne'er depart + While yet the thistle waves. + + + + +THE YELLOW LOCKS O' CHARLIE. + + + The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens, + Wi' martial steps are bounding, + And loud and lang, the wilds amang, + The war pipe's strains are sounding; + The sky and stream reflect the gleam + Of broadswords glancing rarely, + To guard till death the hills of heath + Against the foes o' Charlie. + + Then let on high the banners fly, + And hearts and hands rise prouder, + And wake amain the warlike strain + Still louder, and still louder; + For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn + O'er Appin's mountains early, + Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + While banners wave aboon the brave + Our foemen vainly gather, + And swear to claim, by deeds o' fame, + Our hills and glens o' heather. + For seas shall swell to wild and fell, + And crown green Appin fairly, + Ere hearts so steel'd to foemen yield + The rights o' royal Charlie. + + Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, + And let the mountains hoary + Re-echo round the warlike sound + That speaks of Highland glory. + For strains sublime, through future time, + Shall tell the tale unsparely, + How Scotland's crown was placed aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + + + +WE'LL MEET YET AGAIN. + + + We'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us + The sky shall be bright, and the bower shall be green, + And the visions of life shall be lovely before us + As the sunshine of summer that sleeps o'er the scene. + The woodlands are sad when the green leaves are fading, + And sorrow is deep when the dearest must part, + But for each darker woe that our spirit is shading + A joy yet more bright shall return to the heart. + + We'll meet yet again, when the pain, disconcerting + The peace of our minds in a moment like this, + Shall melt into nought, like the tears of our parting, + Or live but in mem'ry to heighten our bliss. + We have loved in the hours when a hope scarce could find us; + We've loved when our hearts were the lightest of all, + And the same tender tie that has bound still shall bind us, + When the dark chain of fate shall have ceased to enthral. + + We'll meet yet again, when the spirit of gladness + Shall breathe o'er the valley, and brighten its flowers, + And the lone hearts of those who have long been in sadness + Shall gather delight from the transport of ours; + Yes, thine are the charms, love, that never can perish, + And thine is the star that my guide still shall be, + Alluring the hope in this soul that shall cherish + Its life's dearest treasures, to share them with thee. + + + + +OUR AIN NATIVE LAND. + + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + There's a charm in the words that we a' understand, + That flings o'er the bosom the power of a spell, + And makes us love mair what we a' love so well. + The heart may have feelings it canna conceal, + As the mind has the thoughts that nae words can reveal, + But alike he the feelings and thought can command + Who names but the name o' our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Though bleak be its mountains and rugged its strand, + The waves aye seem bless'd, dancing wild o'er the sea, + When woke by the winds from the hills o' the free. + Our sky oft is dark, and our storms loud and cauld, + But where are the hearts that sic worth can unfauld + As those that unite, and uniting expand, + When they hear but the name o' our ain native land? + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + To hear of her famed ones let none e'er demand, + For the hours o' a' time far too little would prove + To name but the names that we honour and love. + The bard lives in light, though his heart it be still, + And the cairn of the warrior stands gray on the hill, + And songster and sage can alike still command + A garland of fame from our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Her wild woods are glorious, her waterfalls grand, + And her songs still proclaim, as they ring through the glen, + The charms of her maids and the worth of her men. + Her thistle shall cease in the breezes to wave, + And the floweret to bloom on the patriot's grave, + Ere we cease to defend, with our heart and our hand, + The freedom and faith of our ain native land. + + + + +THE GRECIAN WAR SONG. + + + On! on to the fields, where of old + The laurels of freedom were won; + Let us think, as the banners of Greece we unfold, + Of the brave in the pages of glory enroll'd, + And the deeds by our forefathers done! + O yet, if there's aught that is dear, + Let bravery's arm be its shield; + Let love of our country give power to each spear, + And beauty's pale cheek dry its long-gather'd tear + In the light of the weapons we wield. + Awake then to glory, that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + Rear! rear the proud trophies once more, + Where Persia's hosts were o'erthrown; + Let the song of our triumph arise on our shore, + Till the mountains give back the far sounds, as of yore, + To the fields where our foemen lie strewn! + Oh ne'er shall our bold efforts cease + Till the garlands of freedom shall wave + In breezes, which, fraught with the tidings of peace, + Shall wander o'er all the fair islands of Greece, + And cool not the lip of a slave; + Awake then to glory! that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + + + +FLORA'S LAMENT. + + + More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, + Dismantled of all the gay hues that they wore; + For lost is my hope since the Prince of the Highlands + 'Mong these, his wild mountains, can meet me no more. + Ah! Charlie, how wrung was this heart when it found thee + Forlorn, and the die of thy destiny cast; + Thy Flora was firm 'mid the perils around thee, + But where were the brave of the land that had own'd thee, + That she--only she--should be true to the last? + + The step's in the bark on the dark heaving waters, + That now should have been on the floor of a throne; + And, alas for auld Scotland, her sons and her daughters! + Thy wish was their welfare, thy cause was their own. + But 'lorn may we sigh where the hill-winds awaken, + And weep in the glen where the cataracts foam, + And sleep where the dew-drops are deep on the bracken; + Thy foot has the land of thy fathers forsaken, + And more--never more will it yield thee a home. + + Oh! yet when afar, in the land of the stranger, + If e'er on thy spirit remembrance may be + Of her who was true in these moments of danger, + Reprove not the heart that still lives but for thee. + The night-shrouded flower from the dawning shall borrow + A ray, all the glow of its charms to renew, + But Charlie, ah! Charlie, no ray to thy Flora + Can dawn from thy coming to chase the dark sorrow + Which death, in thine absence, alone can subdue. + + + + +WHEN THE GLEN ALL IS STILL. + +AIR--_"Cold Frosty Morning."_ + + + When the glen all is still, save the stream of the fountain, + When the shepherd has ceased o'er the dark heath to roam, + And the wail of the plover awakes on the mountain, + Inviting her mate to return to his home-- + Oh! meet me, Eliza, adown by the wild-wood, + Where the wild daisies sleep 'mong the low-lying dew, + And our bliss shall be sweet as the visions of childhood, + And pure as the fair star, in heaven's deep blue. + + Thy locks shall be braided in drops of the gloaming, + And fann'd by the far-travell'd breeze of the lawn; + The spirits of heaven shall know of thy coming, + And watch o'er our joy till the hour of the dawn. + No woes shall we know of dark fortune's decreeing, + Of the past and the future my dreams may not be, + For the light of thine eye seems the home of my being, + And my soul's fondest thoughts shall be gather'd to thee. + + + + +SCOTLAND YET.[6] + + + Gae, bring my guid auld harp ance mair,-- + Gae, bring it free and fast,-- + For I maun sing another sang + Ere a' my glee be past; + And trow ye as I sing, my lads, + The burden o't shall be + Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The heath waves wild upon her hills, + And foaming frae the fells, + Her fountains sing o' freedom still, + As they dance down the dells; + And weel I lo'e the land, my lads, + That's girded by the sea; + Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The thistle wags upon the fields + Where Wallace bore his blade, + That gave her foemen's dearest bluid + To dye her auld gray plaid; + And looking to the lift, my lads, + He sang this doughty glee-- + Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies, + Where freedom's voice ne'er rang; + Gie me the hills where Ossian lies, + And Coila's minstrel sang; + For I've nae skill o' lands, my lads, + That ken nae to be free; + Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] This song, set to music by Mr Peter M'Leod, was published in a +separate form, and the profits, which amounted to a considerable sum, +given for the purpose of placing a parapet and railing around the +monument of Burns on the Calton Hill, Edinburgh. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S GRAVE. + + + I sat in the vale, 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, + And the gloom of my bosom seem'd deep as their shade, + For remembrance was fraught with the far-travell'd story, + That told where the dust of the minstrel was laid: + I saw not his harp on the wild boughs above me, + I heard not its anthems the mountains among; + But the flow'rets that bloom'd on his grave were more lovely + Than others would seem to the earth that belong. + + "Sleep on," said my soul, "in the depths of thy slumber + Sleep on, gentle bard! till the shades pass away; + For the lips of the living the ages shall number + That steal o'er thy heart in its couch of decay: + Oh! thou wert beloved from the dawn of thy childhood, + Beloved till the last of thy suffering was seen, + Beloved now that o'er thee is waving the wild-wood, + And the worm only living where rapture hath been. + + "Till the footsteps of time are their travel forsaking, + No form shall descend, and no dawning shall come, + To break the repose that thy ashes are taking, + And call them to life from their chamber of gloom: + Yet sleep, gentle bard! for, though silent for ever, + Thy harp in the hall of the chieftain is hung; + No time from the mem'ry of mankind shall sever + The tales that it told, and the strains that it sung." + + + + +OUR OWN LAND AND LOVED ONE. + +AIR--_"Buccleuch Gathering."_ + + + No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread + O'er the land that gave birth to the first breath we drew-- + Such radiance but lives in the eye of the maid + That is dear to our heart--to our heart ever true. + + With her--yes, with her that this spirit has bless'd, + 'Neath my dear native sky let my home only be; + And the valley of flowers, and the heath-covered waste, + Shall alike have a spell of enchantment for me. + + Let her eye pour its light o'er the joy of my heart, + Or mingle its beam with the gloom of my woe, + And each shadow of care from the soul shall depart, + Save of care that on her it is bliss to bestow. + + My thought shall not travel to sun-lighted isles, + Nor my heart own a wish for the wealth they may claim, + But live and be bless'd in rewarding her smiles + With the song of the harp that shall hallow her name. + + The anthems of music delightful may roll, + Or eloquence flow as the waves of the sea, + But the sounds that enchantment can shed o'er the soul + Are--the lass that we love, and the land that is free! + + + + +THE BOWER OF THE WILD. + + + I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, + Afar from the din and the dwellings of men; + Where still I might linger in many a dream, + And mingle my strains wi' the voice o' the stream. + From the cave and the cliff, where the hill foxes roam, + Where the earn has his nest and the raven his home, + I brought the young flower-buds ere yet they had smiled, + And taught them to bloom round my bower of the wild. + + But the fair maidens came, from yon vale far away, + And sought my lone grotto still day after day, + And soon were the stems of their fair blossoms shorn + That the flowers of the bard might their ringlets adorn. + Full fair were they all, but the maiden most fair + Would still have no flower till I pull'd it with care; + And gentle, and simple, and modest, and mild, + She stole my lone heart in the bower of the wild. + + The summer is past, and the maidens are gone, + And this heart, like my grotto, is wither'd and lone, + And yet, with the winter, I'll cease not to mourn, + Unless, with the blossoms, these fair ones return. + Oh! had they ne'er come, or had ne'er gone away, + I sing in my sorrow still day after day. + The scene seems a desert--the charm is exiled, + And woe to my blooms and my bower of the wild! + + + + +THE CROOK AND PLAID. + +AIR--_"The Ploughman."_ + + + I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, + Though he should own that tender love, that's only felt by few; + For he that has this bosom a' to fondest love betray'd, + Is the faithfu' shepherd laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true to his lassie--he's aye true to his lassie, + Who wears the crook and plaid. + + At morn he climbs the mountains wild his fleecy flocks to view, + While o'er him sweet the laverock sings, new sprung frae 'mang the dew; + His doggie frolics roun' and roun', and may not weel be stay'd, + Sae blithe it is the laddie wi' that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + At noon he leans him down upon the high and heathy fell, + And views his flocks, beneath him a', fair feeding in the dell; + And there he sings the sangs o' love, the sweetest ever made; + O! how happy is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + He pu's the bells o' heather red, and the lily-flowers sae meek, + Ca's the lily like my bosom, and the heath-bell like my cheek; + His words are sweet and tender, as the dews frae heaven shed; + And weel I love to list the lad who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + When the dews begin to fauld the flowers, and the gloamin' shades draw on, + When the star comes stealing through the sky, and the kye are on the loan, + He whistles through the glen sae sweet, the heart is lighter made + To ken the laddie hameward hies who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + Beneath the spreading hawthorn gray, that's growing in the glen, + He meets me in the gloamin' aye, when nane on earth can ken, + To woo and vow, and there I trow, whatever may be said, + He kens aye unco weel the way to row me in his plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + The youth o' mony riches may to his fair one ride, + And woo across the table cauld his madam-titled bride; + But I'll gang to the hawthorn gray, where cheek to cheek is laid, + Oh! nae wooers like the laddie that rows me in his plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + To own the truth o' tender love what heart wad no comply, + Since love gives purer happiness than aught aneath the sky? + If love be in the bosom, then the heart is ne'er afraid; + And through life I'll love the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S BOWER. + +AIR--_"Bonnie Mary Hay."_ + + + Oh, lassie! if thou'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, + I'll weave the wilds amang a bonnie bower for thee; + I'll weave a bonnie bower o' the birks and willows green, + And to my heart thou'lt be what nae other e'er has been. + + When the dew is on the flower, and the starlight on the lea, + In the bonnie green-wood bower I'll wake my harp to thee; + I'll wake my hill-harp's strain, and the echoes o' the dell + Shall restore the tales again that its notes o' love shall tell. + + Oh, lassie! thou art fair as the morning's early beam, + As the image of a flower reflected frae the stream; + There's kindness in thy heart, and there's language in thine e'e, + But ah! its looks impart nae sweet tale o' love to me! + + Oh, lassie! wert thou mine I wad love thee wi' such love + As the lips can ne'er define, and the cold can never prove; + In the bower by yonder stream our happy home should be, + And our life a blissful dream, while I lived alone for thee. + + When I am far away my thoughts on thee shall rest, + Allured, as by a ray, frae the dwellings o' the blest; + For beneath the clouds o' dew, where'er my path may be, + Oh! a maiden fair as thou, I again shall never see! + + + + +WHEN THE STAR OF THE MORNING. + + + When the star of the morning is set, + And the heavens are beauteous and blue, + And the bells of the heather are wet + With the drops of the deep-lying dew; + 'Mong the flocks on the mountains that lie, + 'Twas blithesome and blissful to be, + When these all my thoughts would employ; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When noontide displays all its powers, + And the flocks to the valley return, + To lie and to feed 'mong the flowers + That bloom on the banks of the burn; + O sweet, sweet it was to recline + 'Neath the shade of yon hoar hawthorn-tree, + And think on the charge that was mine; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When Gloaming stole down from the rocks, + With her fingers of shadowy light, + And the dews of the eve in her locks, + To spread down a couch for the night; + 'Twas sweet through yon green birks to stray, + That border the brook and the lea; + But now, 'tis a wearisome way, + Unless it were travell'd with thee. + + All lovely and pure as thou art, + And generous of thought and of will, + Oh Mary! speak thou to this heart, + And bid its wild beating be still; + I'd give all the ewes in the fold-- + I'd give all the lambs on the lea, + By night or by day to behold + One look of true kindness from thee. + + + + +THOUGH ALL FAIR WAS THAT BOSOM. + + + Though all fair was that bosom, heaving white, + While hung this fond spirit o'er thee; + And though that eye, with beauty's light, + Still bedimm'd every eye before thee; + Oh! charms there were still more divine, + When woke that melting voice of thine, + The charms that caught this soul of mine, + And taught it to adore thee. + + Then died the woes of the heart away + With the thoughts of joys departed; + For my soul seem'd but to live in thy lay, + While it told of the faithful-hearted. + Methought how sweet it were to be + Far in some wild green glen with thee; + From all of life and of longing free, + Save what pure love imparted. + + Oh! I could stray where the drops of dew + Never fell on the desert round me, + And dwell where the fair flowers never grew + If the hymns of thy voice still found me. + Thy smile itself could the soul invest + With all that here makes mortals bless'd; + While every thought thy lips express'd + In deeper love still bound me. + + + + +WOULD THAT I WERE WHERE WILD WOODS WAVE. + + + Would that I were where wild woods wave + Aboon the beds where sleep the brave; + And where the streams o' Scotia lave + Her hills and glens o' grandeur! + + Where freedom reigns, and friendship dwells, + Bright as the sun upon the fells, + When autumn brings the heather-bells + In all their native splendour. + The thistle wi' the hawthorn joins, + The birks mix wi' the mountain pines, + And heart with dauntless heart combines + For ever to defend her. + Then would I were, &c. + + There roam the kind, and live the leal, + By lofty ha' and lowly shiel; + And she for whom the heart must feel + A kindness still mair tender. + Fair, where the light hill breezes blaw, + The wild-flowers bloom by glen and shaw; + But she is fairer than them a', + Wherever she may wander. + Then would I were, &c. + + Still, far or near, by wild or wood, + I'll love the generous, wise, and good; + But she shall share the dearest mood + That Heaven to life may render. + What boots it then thus on to stir, + And still from love's enjoyment err, + When I to Scotland and to her + Must all this heart surrender. + Then would I were, &c. + + + + +OH! TELL ME WHAT SOUND. + +AIR--_"Paddy's Resource."_ + + + Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear-- + The sound that can most o'er our being prevail? + 'Tis the sweet melting voice of the maid we love dear, + When chanting the songs of her own native vale. + More thrilling is this than the tone of the gale, + Awakening the wind-harp's wild wandering lore; + More sweet than the songster that sings in the dale, + When the strains of the rest of the warblers are o'er. + + Oh! tell me what light, of the earth or the sky, + Can the deepest delight to the spirit impart? + 'Tis the bright beaming radiance that lives in the eye + Of the maid that affection has bound to the heart. + More charming is this than the glory of art, + More lovely than rays from yon heavens above; + It heightens each joy, as it soothes every smart, + Enchanting our souls with the magic of love. + + Oh! tell me what drop is most melting and meek + That aught 'neath the azure of heaven can share? + 'Tis the tear-drop that falls o'er the dear maiden's cheek + When she breathes o'er her lover her sigh and her prayer! + More tender is this--more celestial and fair-- + Than the dew-drop that springs from the chamber of morn; + A balm that still softens the ranklings of care, + And heals every wound that the bosom hath borne. + + + + +OUR MARY.[7] + + + Our Mary liket weel to stray + Where clear the burn was rowin', + And trouth she was, though I say sae, + As fair as ought ere made o' clay, + And pure as ony gowan. + + And happy, too, as ony lark + The clud might ever carry; + She shunn'd the ill, and sought the good, + E'en mair than weel was understood; + And a' fouk liket Mary. + + But she fell sick wi' some decay, + When she was but eleven; + And as she pined frae day to day, + We grudged to see her gaun away, + Though she was gaun to Heaven. + + There's fears for them that's far awa', + And fykes for them are flitting, + But fears and cares, baith grit and sma', + We, by and by, o'er-pit them a'; + But death there's nae o'er-pitting. + + And nature's bands are hard to break, + When thus they maun be broken; + And e'en the form we loved to see, + We canna lang, dear though it be, + Preserve it as a token. + + But Mary had a gentle heart-- + Heaven did as gently free her; + Yet lang afore she reach'd that part, + Dear sir, it wad hae made ye start + Had ye been there to see her. + + Sae changed, and yet sae sweet and fair, + And growing meek and meeker, + Wi' her lang locks o' yellow hair, + She wore a little angel's air, + Ere angels cam to seek her. + + And when she couldna stray out by, + The wee wild-flowers to gather; + She oft her household plays wad try, + To hide her illness frae our eye, + Lest she should grieve us farther. + + But ilka thing we said or did, + Aye pleased the sweet wee creature; + Indeed ye wad hae thought she had + A something in her made her glad + Ayont the course o' nature. + + For though disease, beyont remeed, + Was in her frame indented, + Yet aye the mair as she grew ill, + She grew and grew the lovelier still, + And mair and mair contented. + + But death's cauld hour cam' on at last, + As it to a' is comin'; + And may it be, whene'er it fa's, + Nae waur to others than it was + To Mary, sweet wee woman! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] This exquisite lay forms a portion of "The Cottagers of Glendale," +Mr Riddell's longest ballad poem. + + + + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS. + + +The writer of spirited and elegant poetry, Mrs Margaret Maxwell Inglis +was the youngest daughter of Alexander Murray, a medical practitioner, +who latterly accepted a small government situation in the town of +Sanquhar, Dumfriesshire. She was born at Sanquhar on the 27th October +1774, and at an early age became the wife of a Mr Finlay, who held a +subordinate post in the navy. On the death of her husband, which took +place in the West Indies, she resided with the other members of her +family in Dumfries; and in 1803, she married Mr John Inglis, only son of +John Inglis, D.D., minister of Kirkmabreck, in Galloway. By the death of +Mr Inglis in 1826, she became dependent, with three children by her +second marriage, on a small annuity arising from an appointment which +her late husband had held in the Excise. She relieved the sadness of her +widowhood by a course of extensive reading, and of composition both in +prose and verse. In 1838 she published, at the solicitation of friends, +a duodecimo volume, entitled "Miscellaneous Collection of Poems, chiefly +Scriptural Pieces." Of the compositions in this volume, there are +several of very superior merit, while the whole are marked by a vein of +elegant fancy. + +Mrs Inglis died in Edinburgh on the 21st December 1843. Eminently gifted +as a musician, she could boast of having been complimented by the poet +Burns on the grace with which she had, in his presence, sung his own +songs. Of retiring and unobtrusive habits, she mixed sparingly in +general society; but among her intimate friends, she was held in +estimation for the extent of her information and the unclouded +cheerfulness of her disposition. She has left some MSS. of poems and +songs, from which we have been privileged to make selections for the +present work. + + + + +SWEET BARD OF ETTRICK'S GLEN.[8] + +AIR--_"Banks of the Devon."_ + + + Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen! + Where art thou wandering? + Miss'd is thy foot on the mountain and lea. + Why round yon craggy rocks + Wander thy heedless flocks, + While lambies are list'ning and bleating for thee? + Cold as the mountain stream, + Pale as the moonlight beam, + Still is thy bosom, and closed is thine e'e. + Wild may the tempest's wave + Sweep o'er thy lonely grave; + Thou art deaf to the storm--it is harmless to thee. + + Like a meteor's brief light, + Like the breath of the morning, + Thy life's dream hath pass'd as a shadow gone by; + Till thy soft numbers stealing + O'er mem'ry's warm feeling, + Each line is embalm'd with a tear or a sigh. + Sweet was thy melody, + Rich as the rose's dye, + Shedding its odours o'er sorrow or glee; + Love laugh'd on golden wing, + Pleasure's hand touch'd the string, + All taught the strain to sing, Shepherd, by thee. + + Cold on Benlomond's brow + Flickers the drifted snow, + While down its sides the wild cataracts foam; + Winter's mad winds may sweep + Fierce o'er each glen and steep, + Thy rest is unbroken, and peaceful thy home. + And when on dewy wing + Comes the sweet bird of spring, + Chanting its notes on the bush or the tree; + The Bird of the Wilderness, + Low in the waving grass, + Shall, cow'ring, sing sadly its farewell to thee. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] This song was composed by Mrs Inglis, in honour of the Ettrick +Shepherd, shortly after the period of his death. + + + + +YOUNG JAMIE.[9] + +AIR--_"Drummond Castle."_ + + + Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, + Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain, + But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour, + Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e. + O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny, + The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony, + But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e, + And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie. + + Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie, + Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean, + Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see + The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary, + And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary, + And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree, + Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + + Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn, + Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin, + He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see; + Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow, + And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow; + Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see, + But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Printed for the first time. + + + + +CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE. + +AIR--_"Tullymet."_ + + + Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, + And bonnets blue and white cockades, + Put on their shields, unsheathe their blades, + And conquest fell begin; + And let the word be Scotland's heir: + And when their swords can do nae mair, + Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair + Let Hieland lasses spin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather; + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Draw yer dirk and rin. + + Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light, + And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might, + And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight, + And Ruthven light and trim-- + Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack + Laid Cressingham upon his back, + Garr'd Edward gather up his pack, + And ply his spurs and rin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, &c. + + + + +HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE? + + + Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners + That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie; + Saw ye the broadswords, the shields and the tartan hose, + Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie? + Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid, + Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie; + Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil, + Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie? + + Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up, + Kenn'd ye the nobles that revell'd sae rarely; + Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald, + Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? + But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden, + Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly; + Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing, + That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie. + + Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless, + Pillows his head on the heather sae barely; + Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light, + Borne down by lawless might--gallant Prince Charlie? + Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear, + Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly; + But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart-- + Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie? + + + + +BRUCE'S ADDRESS. + + + When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, + And the tyrant's proud banners insultingly wave, + And the slogan of battle from beauty's fond arms + Roused the war-crested chieftain, his country to save; + The sunbeam that rose on our mountain-clad warriors, + And reflected their shields in the green rippling wave, + In its course saw the slain on the fields of their fathers, + And shed its last ray on their cold bloody graves. + + O'er those green beds of honour our war-song prepare, + And the red sword of vengeance triumphantly wave, + While the ghosts of the slain cry aloud--Do not spare, + Lead to victory and freedom, or die with the brave; + For the high soul of freedom no tyrant can fetter, + Like the unshackled billows our proud shores that lave; + Though oppressed, he will watch o'er the home of his fathers, + And rest his wan cheek on the tomb of the brave. + + To arms, then! to arms! Let the battle-cry rise, + Like the raven's hoarse croak, through their ranks let it sound; + Set their knell on the wing of each arrow that flies, + Till the shouts of the free shake the mountains around; + Let the cold-blooded, faint-hearted changeling now tremble, + For the war-shock shall reach to his dark-centered cave, + While the laurels that twine round the brows of the victors + Shall with rev'rence be strew'd o'er the tombs of the brave. + + + + +REMOVED FROM VAIN FASHION. + + + Removed from vain fashion, + From title's proud ken, + In a straw-cover'd cottage, + Deep hid in yon glen, + There dwells a sweet flow'ret, + Pure, lovely, and fair, + Though rear'd, like the snowdrop, + 'Midst hardships' chill air. + + No soft voice of kindred, + Or parent she knows-- + In the desert she blooms, + Like the sweet mountain rose, + Like the little stray'd lammie + That bleats on the lea; + She's soft, kind, and gentle, + And dear, dear to me. + + Though the rich dews of fortune + Ne'er water'd this stem, + Nor one fostering sunbeam + Matured the rich gem-- + Oh! give me that pure bosom, + Her lot let me share, + I'll laugh at distinction, + And smile away care. + + + + +WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN? + + + When shall we meet again, + Meet ne'er to sever? + When shall Peace wreath her chain + Round us for ever? + When shall our hearts repose, + Safe from each breath that blows, + In this dark world of woes? + Never! oh, never! + + Fate's unrelenting hand + Long may divide us, + Yet in one holy land + One God shall guide us. + Then, on that happy shore, + Care ne'er shall reach us more, + Earth's vain delusions o'er, + Angels beside us. + + There, where no storms can chill, + False friends deceive us, + Where, with protracted thrill, + Hope cannot grieve us; + There with the pure in heart, + Far from fate's venom'd dart, + There shall we meet to part + Never! oh, never! + + + + +JAMES KING. + + +James King was born in Paisley in 1776. His paternal ancestors, for a +course of centuries, were farmers in the vicinity of Gleniffer Braes. +Having been only one year at school, he was, at the age of eight, +required to assist his father in his trade of muslin-weaving. Joining a +circulating library, he soon acquired an acquaintance with books; he +early wrote verses, and became the intimate associate of Tannahill, who +has honourably mentioned him in one of his poetical epistles. In his +fifteenth year he enlisted in a fencible regiment, which was afterwards +stationed at Inverness. On its being disembodied in 1798, he returned to +the loom at Paisley, where he continued till 1803, when he became a +recruit in the Renfrewshire county militia. He accompanied this regiment +to Margate, Deal, Dover, Portsmouth, and London, and subsequently to +Leith, the French prisoners' depôt at Penicuick, and the Castle of +Edinburgh. At Edinburgh his poetical talents recommended him to some +attention from Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick Shepherd, and several +others of the poets of the capital. + +Accused of exciting disaffection, and promoting an attempt made by a +portion of his comrades to resist lawful authority while the regiment +was stationed at Perth, King, though wholly innocent of the charge, +fearing the vengeance of the adjutant, who was hostile to him, contrived +to effect his escape. By a circuitous route, so as to elude the +vigilance of parties sent to apprehend him, he reached the district of +Galloway, where he obtained employment as a shepherd and agricultural +labourer. He subsequently wrought as a weaver at Crieff till 1815, when, +on his regiment being disembodied, he was honourably acquitted from the +charge preferred against him, and granted his discharge. He now settled +as a muslin-weaver, first at Glasgow, and afterwards at Paisley and +Charleston. He died at Charleston, near Paisley, on the 27th September +1849, in his seventy-third year. + +Of vigorous intellect, lively fancy, and a keen appreciation of the +humorous, King was much esteemed among persons of a rank superior to his +own. His mind was of a fine devotional cast, and his poetical +compositions are distinguished by earnestness of expression and +sentiment. + + + + +THE LAKE IS AT REST. + + + The lake is at rest, love, + The sun's on its breast, love, + How bright is its water, how pleasant to see; + Its verdant banks shewing + The richest flowers blowing, + A picture of bliss and an emblem of thee! + + Then, O fairest maiden! + When earth is array'd in + The beauties of heaven o'er mountain and lea, + Let me still delight in + The glories that brighten, + For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee. + + But, Anna, why redden? + I would not, fair maiden, + My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray; + The traitor, the demon, + That could deceive woman, + His soul's all unfit for the glories of day. + + Believe me then, fairest, + To me thou art dearest; + And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree, + With flower blooming mountains, + And crystalline fountains, + I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee. + + + + +LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW. + +AIR--_"Scott's Boat Song."_ + + + No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley, + Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell, + Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily, + That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale. + At length from the hill I heard, + Plaintively wild, a bard, + Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow; + "Remember what Morard says, + Morard of many days, + Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain, + Sad is the song that the bugle-horns sing; + Though lovely the standard it waves o'er the mangled slain, + Widows' sighs stretching its broad gilded wing. + Hard are the laws that bind + Poor foolish man and blind; + But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow, + Thy cheeks with health's roses spread, + Till time clothes with snow thy head, + Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Wouldst thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary, + Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom; + Innocence leads to the summit of glory, + Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb. + The tyrant, whose hands are red, + Trembles alone in bed; + But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow, + No horror fiends haunt his rest, + Hope fills his placid breast, + Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe." + + Ceased the soft voice, for gray mist was descending, + Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill, + The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending, + Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill, + Yet still from the hoary bard, + Methought the sweet song I heard, + Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe; + And oft as I pass along, + Chimes in mine ear his song, + "Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe." + + + + +ISOBEL PAGAN. + + +The author of a sweet pastoral lyric, which has been praised both by +Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham, Isobel Pagan claims a biographical +notice. She was born in the parish of New Cumnock, Ayrshire, about the +year 1741. Deserted by her relations in youth, and possessing only an +imperfect education, she was led into a course of irregularities which +an early moral training would have probably prevented. She was lame and +singularly ill-favoured, but her manners were spirited and amusing. Her +chief employment was the composition of verses, and these she sung as a +mode of subsistence. She published, in 1805, a volume of doggerel +rhymes, and was in the habit of satirising in verse those who had +offended her. Her one happy effort in song-making has preserved her +name. She lived chiefly in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk. She died on +the 3d November 1821, in her eightieth year, and her remains were +interred in the churchyard of Muirkirk. A tombstone marks her grave. + + + + +CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.[10] + + + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, + Ca' them where the heather grows, + Ca' them where the burnie rows, + My bonnie dearie. + + As I gaed down the water-side, + There I met my shepherd lad, + He row'd me sweetly in his plaid, + An' he ca'd me his dearie. + + "Will ye gang down the water-side, + And see the waves sae sweetly glide + Beneath the hazels spreading wide? + The moon it shines fu' clearly. + + "Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet, + Cauf-leather shoon to thy white feet, + And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep, + And ye shall be my dearie." + + "If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, + I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad, + And ye may row me in your plaid, + And I shall be your dearie." + + "While water wimples to the sea, + While day blinks in the lift sae hie, + Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e, + Ye shall be my dearie." + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Of this song a new version was composed by Burns, the original +chorus being retained. Burns' version commences--"Hark the mavis' +evening sang." + + + + +JOHN MITCHELL. + + +John Mitchell, the Paisley bard, died in that place on the 12th August +1856, in his seventieth year. He was born at Paisley in 1786. The labour +of weaving he early sought to relieve by the composition of verses. He +contributed pieces, both in prose and verse, to the _Moral and Literary +Observer_, a small Paisley periodical of the year 1823, and of which he +was the publisher. In 1838, he appeared as the author of "A Night on the +Banks of the Doon, and other Poems," a volume which was followed in 1840 +by "The Wee Steeple's Ghaist, and other Poems and Songs," the latter +being dedicated to Professor Wilson. In the year 1840, he likewise +produced, jointly with a Mr Dickie, the "Philosophy of Witchcraft," a +work which, published by Messrs Oliver and Boyd, was well received. His +next publication appeared in 1845, with the title, "One Hundred Original +Songs." His last work, "My Gray Goose Quill, and other Poems and Songs," +was published in 1852. + +Mitchell employed himself latterly in forwarding the sale of his +publications, and succeeded by this course in securing a comfortable +maintenance. He wrote verses with much readiness, and occasionally with +considerable power. His songs, which we have selected for the present +work, are distinguished by graceful simplicity and elegant pathos. Had +Mitchell written less, and more carefully, he had reached a higher niche +in the Temple of National Song. His manners were eccentric, and he was +not unconscious of his poetical endowments. + + + + +BEAUTY. + + + What wakes the Poet's lyre? + 'Tis Beauty; + What kindles his poetic fire? + 'Tis Beauty; + What makes him seek, at evening's hour, + The lonely glen, the leafy bower, + When dew hangs on each little flower? + Oh! it is Beauty. + + What melts the soldier's soul? + 'Tis Beauty; + What can his love of fame control? + 'Tis Beauty; + For oft, amid the battle's rage, + Some lovely vision will engage + His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage: + Such power has Beauty. + + What tames the savage mood? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives a polish to the rude? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives the peasant's lowly state + A charm which wealth cannot create, + And on the good alone will wait? + 'Tis faithful Beauty. + + Then let our favourite toast + Be Beauty; + Is it not king and peasant's boast? + Yes, Beauty; + Then let us guard with tender care + The gentle, th' inspiring fair, + And Love will a diviner air + Impart to Beauty. + + + + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + + Star of descending Night! + Lovely and fair, + Robed in thy mellow light, + Subtle and rare; + Whence are thy silvery beams, + That o'er lone ocean gleams, + And in our crystal streams + Dip their bright hair? + + Far in yon liquid sky, + Where streamers play + And the red lightnings fly, + Hold'st thou thy way; + Clouds may envelop thee, + Winds rave o'er land and sea, + O'er them thy march is free + As thine own ray. + + + + +OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME. + + + Oh! waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home; + There will I wander by the streams + Where Song and Dance combine, + Around my rosy waking dreams + Ecstatic joys to twine. + + On Music's swell my thoughts will soar + Above created things, + And revel on the boundless shore + Of rapt imaginings. + The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken + My fancy will explore, + And seek, far from the haunts of men, + The Poet's mystic lore. + + Love will add gladness to the scene, + And strew my path with flowers; + And Joy with Innocence will lean + Amid my rosy bowers. + Then waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home. + + + + +THE LOVE-SICK MAID. + + + The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, + Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid? + Can the doctor cure her woe + When she will not let him know + Why the tears incessant flow + From the love-sick maid? + + The flaunting day, the flaunting day, + She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day! + For she sits and pines alone, + And will comfort take from none; + Nay, the very colour's gone + From the love-sick maid. + + The secret 's out, the secret 's out, + A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out! + For she finds at e'ening's hour, + In a rosy woodland bower, + Charms worth a prince's dower + To a love-sick maid. + + + + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON. + + +Alexander Jamieson was born in the village of Dalmellington, Ayrshire, +on the 29th January 1789. After a course of study at the University of +Edinburgh, he obtained licence as a medical practitioner. In 1819, he +settled as a surgeon and apothecary in the town of Alloa. A skilful +mechanician, he constructed a small printing-press for his own use; he +was likewise ardently devoted to the study of botany. He composed verses +with remarkable facility, many of which he contributed to the _Stirling +Journal_ newspaper. His death was peculiarly melancholy: he had formed +one of a pic-nic party, on a fine summer day, to the summit of +Bencleugh, one of the Ochils, and descending by a shorter route to visit +a patient at Tillicoultry, he missed his footing, and was precipitated +about two hundred feet into one of the ravines. He was early next +morning discovered by a shepherd, but only survived a few hours +afterwards. His death took place on the 26th July 1826. Possessed of +varied talents, and excellent dispositions, Jamieson was deeply +regretted by his friends. He left a widow, who died lately in +Dunfermline. His songs, of which two specimens are adduced, afford +evidence of power. + + + + +THE MAID WHO WOVE.[11] + +_"Russian Air."_ + + + The maid who wove the rosy wreath + With every flower--hath wrought a spell, + And though her chaplets fragrance breathe + And balmy sweets--I know full well, + 'Neath every bud, or blossom gay, + There lurks a chain--Love's tyranny. + + Though round her ruby lips, enshrin'd, + Sits stillness, soft as evening skies-- + Though crimson'd cheek you seldom find, + Or glances from her downcast eyes-- + There lurks, unseen, a world of charms, + Which ne'er betray young Love's alarms. + + O trust not to her silent tongue; + Her settled calm, or absent smile; + Nor dream that nymph, so fair and young, + May not enchain in Love's soft guile; + For where Love is--or what's Love's spell-- + No mortal knows--no tongue can tell. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] This song was addressed by Mr Jamieson to Miss Jane Morrison of +Alloa, the heroine of Motherwell's popular ballad of "Jeanie Morrison," +and who had thus the singular good fortune to be celebrated by two +different poets. For some account of Miss Morrison, now Mrs Murdoch, see +vol. iii. p. 233. + + + + +A SIGH AND A SMILE. + +WELSH AIR--_"Sir William Watkin Wynne."_ + + + From Beauty's soft lip, like the balm of its roses, + Or breath of the morning, a sigh took its flight; + Nor far had it stray'd forth, when Pity proposes + The wanderer should lodge in this bosom a night. + + But scarce had the guest, in that peaceful seclusion, + His lodging secured, when a conflict arose, + Each feeling was changed, every thought was delusion, + Nor longer my breast knew the calm of repose. + + They say that young Love is a rosy-cheek'd bowyer, + At random the shafts from his silken string fly, + But surely the urchin of peace is destroyer, + Whose arrows are dipp'd in the balm of a sigh. + + O yes! for he whisper'd, "To Beauty's shrine hie thee; + There worship to Cupid, and wait yet awhile; + A cure she can give, with the balm can supply thee, + The wound from a sigh can be cured by a smile." + + + + +JOHN GOLDIE. + + +A short-lived poet and song-writer of some promise, John Goldie was born +at Ayr on the 22d December 1798. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, was a respectable shipmaster. Obtaining an ample education at the +academy of his native town, he became, in his fifteenth year, assistant +to a grocer in Paisley; he subsequently held a similar situation in a +stoneware and china shop in Glasgow. In 1821 he opened, on his own +account, a stoneware establishment at Ayr; but proving unfortunate in +business, he abandoned the concerns of trade. From his boyhood being +devoted to literature he now resolved on its cultivation as a means of +support. Already known as an occasional contributor, both in prose and +verse, to the public press, he received the appointment of assistant +editor of the _Ayr Courier_, and shortly after obtained the entire +literary superintendence of that journal. In 1821, he published a +pamphlet of respectable verses; and in the following year appeared as +the author of a duodecimo volume of "Poems and Songs," which he +inscribed to the Ettrick Shepherd. Of the compositions in the latter +publication, the greater portion, he intimates in the preface, "were +composed at an early age, chiefly betwixt the years of sixteen and +twenty;" and as the production of a very young man, the volume is +altogether creditable to his genius and taste. + +Deprived of the editorship of the _Courier_, in consequence of a change +in the proprietary, Goldie proceeded to London, in the hope of forming +a connexion with some of the leading newspapers in the metropolis. +Unsuccessful in this effort, he formed the project of publishing _The +London Scotsman_, a newspaper to be chiefly devoted to the consideration +of Scottish affairs. Lacking that encouragement necessary to the +ultimate success of this adventure, he abandoned the scheme after the +third publication, and in very reduced circumstances returned to +Scotland. He now projected the _Paisley Advertiser_, of which the first +number appeared on the 9th October 1824. The editorship of this +newspaper he retained till his death, which took place suddenly on the +27th February 1826, in his twenty-eighth year. + +Of a vigorous intellect, and possessed of a correct literary taste, +Goldie afforded excellent promise of eminence as a journalist. As a poet +and song-writer, a rich vein of humour pervades certain of his +compositions, while others are marked by a plaintive tenderness. Of +sociable and generous dispositions, he was much esteemed by a circle of +admiring friends. His personal appearance was pleasing, and his +countenance wore the aspect of intelligence. + + + + +AND CAN THY BOSOM? + +AIR--_"Loudon's Bonnie Woods and Braes."_ + + + And can thy bosom bear the thought + To part frae love and me, laddie? + Are all those plighted vows forgot, + Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie? + Canst thou forget the midnight hour, + When in yon love-inspiring bower, + You vow'd by every heavenly power + You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie? + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin' ye part wi' me, laddie. + + Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek, + Aft praised my sparkling e'e, laddie, + Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek, + But love and live wi' me, laddie. + But soon those cheeks will lose their red, + Those eyes in endless sleep be hid, + And 'neath the turf the heart be laid + That beats for love and thee, laddie. + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin ye part frae me, laddie. + + You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair, + Where rarer beauties shine, laddie, + But, oh! the heart can never bear + A love sae true as mine, laddie. + But when that heart is laid at rest-- + That heart that lo'ed ye last and best-- + Oh! then the pangs that rend thy breast + Will sharper be than mine, laddie. + Broken vows will vex and grieve me, + Till a broken heart relieve me-- + Yet its latest thought, believe me, + Will be love an' thine, laddie. + + + + +SWEET'S THE DEW. + + + Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June + And lily fair to see, Annie, + But there's ne'er a flower that blooms + Is half so fair as thee, Annie. + Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine + The opening rose its beauties tine, + Thy lips the rubies far outshine, + Love sparkles in thine e'e, Annie. + + The snaw that decks yon mountain top + Nae purer is than thee, Annie; + The haughty mien and pridefu' look + Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie. + And in thy sweet angelic face + Triumphant beams each modest grace; + And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace + A form sae bright as thine, Annie. + + Wha could behold thy rosy cheek + And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie; + What heart could view thy smiling looks, + And plot to do thee wrang, Annie? + Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave, + My heart, my soul, wi' thee I'll leave, + And never, till I cease to breathe, + I'll cease to think on thee, Annie. + + + + +ROBERT POLLOK. + + +Robert Pollok, author of the immortal poem, "The Course of Time," was +the son of a small farmer in the parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, +where he was born on the 19th October 1798. With a short interval of +employment in the workshop of a cabinetmaker, he was engaged till his +seventeenth year in services about his father's farm. Resolving to +prepare for the ministry in the Secession Church, he took lessons in +classical learning at the parish school of Fenwick, Ayrshire, and in +twelve months fitted himself for the university. He attended the +literary and philosophical classes in Glasgow College, during five +sessions, and subsequently studied in the Divinity Hall of the United +Secession Church. He wrote verses in his boyhood, in his eighteenth year +composed a poetical essay, and afterwards produced respectable +translations from the Classics as college exercises. His great poem, +"The Course of Time," was commenced in December 1824, and finished +within the space of nineteen months. On the 24th March 1827, the poem +was published by Mr Blackwood; and on the 2d of the following May the +author received his license as a probationer. The extraordinary success +of his poem had excited strong anticipations in respect of his +professional career, but these were destined to disappointment. Pollok +only preached four times. His constitution, originally robust, had +suffered from over exertion in boyhood, and more recently from a course +of sedulous application in preparing for license, and in the production +of his poem. To recruit his wasted strength, a change of climate was +necessary, and that of Italy was recommended. The afflicted poet only +reached Southampton, where he died a few weeks after his arrival, on the +18th September 1827. In Millbrook churchyard, near Southampton, where +his remains were interred, a monument has been erected to his memory. + +Besides his remarkable poem, Pollok published three short tales relative +to the sufferings of the Covenanters. He had projected a large work +respecting the influences which Christianity had exercised upon +literature. Since his death, several short poetical pieces from his pen +have, along with a memoir, been published by his brother. In person he +was of the ordinary height, and of symmetrical form. His complexion was +pale brown; his features small, and his eyes dark and piercing. "He +was," writes Mr Gabriel Neil, who enjoyed his friendship, "of plain +simple manners, with a well-cultivated mind; he loved debate, and took +pleasure in good-humoured controversy." The copyright of "The Course of +Time" continues to produce emolument to the family. + + + + +THE AFRICAN MAID. + + + On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, + Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste, + All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, + Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste. + + A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide, + And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave; + Ah! well might she gaze--in the ship's hollow side, + Moan'd her Zoopah in chains--in the chains of a slave. + + Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep, + Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail, + Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep; + Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:-- + + "O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe? + Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too! + Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow + To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view? + + * * * * * + + "Great Spirit! why slumber'd the wrath of thy clouds, + When the savage white men dragg'd my Zoopah away? + Why linger'd the panther far back in his woods? + Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey? + + "Ah cruel white monsters! plague poison their breath, + And sleep never visit the place of their bed! + On their children and wives, on their life and their death, + Abide still the curse of an African maid!" + + + + +J. C. DENOVAN. + + +J. C. Denovan was born at Edinburgh in 1798. Early evincing a +predilection for a seafaring life, he was enabled to enter a sloop of +war, with the honorary rank of a midshipman. After accomplishing a +single voyage, he was necessitated, by the death of his father, to +abandon his nautical occupation, and to seek a livelihood in Edinburgh. +He now became, in his sixteenth year, apprentice to a grocer; and he +subsequently established himself as a coffee-roaster in the capital. He +died in 1827. Of amiable dispositions, he was an agreeable and +unassuming member of society. He courted the Muse to interest his hours +of leisure, and his poetical aspirations received the encouragement of +Sir Walter Scott and other men of letters. + + + + +OH DERMOT, DEAR LOVED ONE! + + + Thou hast left me, dear Dermot! to cross the wide seas, + And thy Norah lives grieving in sadness forlorn, + She laments and looks back on the past happy days + When thy presence had left her no object to mourn + Those days that are past, + Too joyous to last, + A pang leaves behind them, 'tis Heaven's decree; + No joy now is mine, + In sadness I pine, + Till Dermot, dear Dermot, returns back to me. + + O Dermot, dear Dermot! why, why didst thou leave + The girl who holds thee so dear in her heart? + Oh! couldst thou hold a thought that would cause her to grieve, + Or think for one moment from Norah to part? + Couldst thou reconcile + To leave this dear isle, + In a far unknown country, where dangers there be? + Oh! for thy dear sake + This poor heart will break, + If thou, dear beloved one, return not to me. + + In silence I 'll weep till my Dermot doth come, + Alone will I wander by moon, noon, and night, + Still praying of Heaven to send him safe home + To her who 'll embrace him with joy and delight. + Then come, like a dove, + To thy faithful love, + Whose heart will entwine thee, fond, joyous, and free; + From danger's alarms + Speed to her open arms, + O Dermot, dear loved one! return back to me. + + + + +JOHN IMLAH. + + +John Imlah, one of the sweetest and most patriotic of Scottish +song-writers, was born in North Street, Aberdeen, about the close of the +year 1799. His progenitors were farmers in the parish of Fyvie, but his +father followed the profession of an innkeeper. Of seven sons, born in +succession to his parents, the poet was the youngest. On completing an +ordinary education at the grammar-school, he was apprenticed to a +pianoforte maker in Aberdeen. Excelling as a piano-tuner he, in this +capacity, sought employment in London, and was fortunate in procuring an +engagement from the Messrs Broadwood. For the first six months of the +year he performed the duties of a tuner in the metropolis, and during +the remaining six months prosecuted his vocation in Scotland. Attached +to his native country, he took delight in celebrating her strains. He +composed songs from his boyhood. In 1827, he published "May Flowers," a +duodecimo volume of lyrics, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, which he +followed by a second volume of "Poems and Songs" in 1841. He contributed +to Macleod's "National Melodies" and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. +On the 9th January 1846, his death took place at Jamaica, whither he had +gone on a visit to one of his brothers. + +Imlah was a person of amiable dispositions and agreeable manners. Of his +numerous lyrics, each is distinguished by a rich fancy, and several of +his songs will maintain a lasting place in the national minstrelsy. + + + + +KATHLEEN. + +AIR--_"The Humours of Glen."_ + + + O distant but dear is that sweet island, wherein + My hopes with my Kathleen and kindred abide; + And far though I wander from thee, emerald Erin! + No space can the links of my love-chain divide. + Fairest spot of the earth! brightest gem of the ocean! + How oft have I waken'd my wild harp in thee! + While, with eye of expression, and heart of emotion, + Listen'd, Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + The bloom of the moss-rose, the blush of the morning, + The soft cheek of Kathleen discloses their dye; + What ruby can rival the lip of mavourneen? + What sight-dazzling diamond can equal her eye? + Her silken hair vies with the sunbeam in brightness, + And white is her brow as the surf of the sea; + Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness, + Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom! + As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed, + Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom, + Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed; + While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on, + That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea; + And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon + And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + + + +HIELAN' HEATHER. + +AIR--_"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."_ + + + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Dear to me, an' aye shall be, + The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather! + + The moss-muir black an' mountain blue, + Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather; + The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue, + Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing, + Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather; + While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring, + Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel, + Young lads and lasses trip thegither; + The native Norlan rant and reel + Amang the halesome Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin, + Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather; + How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair + The purple bells o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range, + My fancy fondly travels thither; + Nae countrie charms, nae customs change + My feelings frae the Hielan' heather! + Hey, for the Hielan' heather! + + + + +FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Kinloch."_ + + + Loved land of my kindred, farewell--and for ever! + Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart; + When fated with each fond endearment to sever, + And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart! + Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish, + Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget, + Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish + The dearest regard and the deepest regret. + + Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested! + Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sight; + Your peaks are the king-eagle's thrones--where have rested + The snow-falls of ages--eternally white. + Ah! never again shall the falls of your fountains + Their wild murmur'd music awake on mine ear; + No more the lake's lustre, that mirrors your mountains, + I'll pore on with pleasure--deep, lonely, yet dear. + + Yet--yet Caledonia! when slumber comes o'er me, + Oh! oft will I dream of thee, far, far, away; + But vain are the visions that rapture restore me, + To waken and weep at the dawn of the day. + Ere gone the last glimpse, faint and far o'er the ocean, + Where yet my heart dwells--where it ever shall dwell, + While tongue, sigh and tear, speak my spirit's emotion, + My country--my kindred--farewell, oh farewell! + + + + +THE ROSE OF SEATON VALE. + + + A bonnie Rose bloom'd wild and fair, + As sweet a bud I trow + As ever breathed the morning air, + Or drank the evening dew. + A Zephyr loved the blushing flower, + With sigh and fond love tale; + It woo'd within its briery bower + The rose of Seaton Vale. + + With wakening kiss the Zephyr press'd + This bud at morning light; + At noon it fann'd its glowing breast, + And nestled there at night. + But other flowers sprung up thereby, + And lured the roving gale; + The Zephyr left to droop and die + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + A matchless maiden dwelt by Don, + Loved by as fair a youth; + Long had their young hearts throbb'd as one + Wi' tenderness and truth. + Thy warmest tear, soft Pity, pour-- + For Ellen's type and tale + Are in that sweet, ill-fated flower, + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + + + +KATHERINE AND DONALD. + + + Young Donald dearer loved than life + The proud Dunallan's daughter; + But, barr'd by feudal hate and strife, + In vain he loved and sought her. + She loved the Lord of Garry's glen, + The chieftain of Clanronald; + A thousand plaided Highlandmen + Clasp'd the claymore for Donald. + + On Scotland rush'd the Danish hordes, + Dunallan met his foemen; + Beneath him bared ten thousand swords + Of vassal, serf, and yeomen. + The fray was fierce--and at its height + Was seen a visor'd stranger, + With red lance foremost in the fight, + Unfearing Dane and danger. + + "Be praised--brave knight! thy steel hath striven + The sharpest in the slaughter; + Crave what thou wilt of me--though even + My fair--my darling daughter!" + He lifts the visor from his face-- + The chieftain of Clanronald! + And foes enclasp in friends' embrace, + Dunallan and young Donald. + + Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee-- + The feast-cup glads Glengarry; + The joy that should for ever be + When mutual lovers marry. + The shout and shell the revellers raise, + Dunallan and Clanronald; + And minstrel measures pour to praise + Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald! + + + + +GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'. + + + Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'! + Since it is sae that I maun gang; + Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah! + To gang again as wearie lang. + Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang + That I sae sune sou'd haste awa'; + But since it's sae that I maun gae, + Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'! + + This night I ween we've had the heart + To gar auld Time tak' to his feet; + That makes us a' fu' laith to part, + But aye mair fain again to meet! + To dree the winter's drift and weet + For sic a night is nocht ava, + For hours the sweetest o' the sweet; + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen, + In younker revels fidgin' fain; + Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been, + Like daffin hizzies, young again! + To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain + We've deftly danced the time awa': + We met in mirth--we part wi' pain, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + My nimble gray neighs at the yett, + My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw; + I've clapt the spur upon my buit, + The guid braid bonnet on my brow! + Then night is wearing late I trow-- + My hame lies mony a mile awa'; + The mair's my need to mount and go, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + + + +THE GATHERING.[12] + + + Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman, + Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early; + Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen, + Belt on your broad claymores--fight for Prince Charlie; + Down from the mountain steep, + Up from the valley deep, + Out from the clachan, the bothie, and shieling, + Bugle and battle-drum + Bid chief and vassal come, + Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing. + + Men of the mountains--descendants of heroes! + Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers; + Say, shall the Southern--the Sassenach fear us + When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers? + Too long on the trophied walls + Of your ancestral halls, + Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin; + Seize then, ye mountain Macs, + Buckler and battle-axe, + Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin! + + When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward? + When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal? + Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart, + Follow your leader--the rightful--the royal! + Chief of Clanronald, + Donald Macdonald! + Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon! + Rouse every kilted clan, + Rouse every loyal man, + Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[12] A MS. copy of this song had been sent by the author to the Ettrick +Shepherd. Having been found among the Shepherd's papers after his +decease, it was regarded as his own composition, and has consequently +been included in the posthumous edition of his songs, published by the +Messrs Blackie. The song appears in Imlah's "May Flowers," published in +1827. + + + + +MARY. + +AIR--_"The Dawtie."_ + + There lives a young lassie + Far down yon lang glen, + How I lo'e that lassie + There's nae ane can ken! + Oh! a saint's faith may vary, + But faithfu' I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + And Mary lo'es me. + + Red, red as the rowan + Her smiling wee mou, + An' white as the gowan + Her breast and her brow; + Wi' the foot o' a fairy + She links o'er the lea-- + Oh! weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me. + + Where yon tall forest timmer, + An' lowly broom bower, + To the sunshine o' simmer, + Spread verdure an' flower; + There, when night clouds the cary, + Beside her I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me! + + + + +OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.[13] + + + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay, + By Border Nith, and Highland Spey, + But dearer far to me than they + The braes o' Bennachie. + + When blade and blossoms sprout in spring, + And bid the burdies wag the wing, + They blithely bob, and soar, and sing + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + When simmer cleeds the varied scene + Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green, + I fain would be where aft I've been + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn, + And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn, + 'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill + O'er icy burn and sheeted hill, + The ingle neuk is gleesome still + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + Though few to welcome me remain, + Though a' I loved be dead and gane, + I'll back, though I should live alane, + To the foot o' Bennachie. + + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[13] The chorus of this song, which is said to have been originally +connected with a plaintive Jacobite ditty, now lost, has suggested +several modern songs similar in manner and sentiment. Imlah composed two +songs with this chorus. The earlier of these compositions appears in the +"May Flowers." It is evidently founded upon a rumour, which prevailed in +Aberdeenshire during the first quarter of the century, to the effect, +that a Scottish officer, serving in Egypt, had been much affected on +hearing a soldier's wife _crooning_ to herself the original words of the +air. We have inserted in the text Imlah's second version, as being +somewhat smoother in versification. It is the only song which we have +transcribed from his volume, published in 1841. But the most popular +words which have been attached to the air and chorus were the +composition of a student in one of the colleges of Aberdeen, nearly +thirty years since, who is now an able and accomplished clergyman of the +Scottish Church. Having received the chorus and heard the air from a +comrade, he immediately composed the following verses, here printed from +the author's MS.:-- + + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins, + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + At the back o' Bennachie! + + I wish I were where Gadie rins, + 'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins, + Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins + At the back o' Bennachie; + + To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang, + To wander birks and braes amang, + Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang, + At the back o' Bennachie. + + How mony a day, in blithe spring-time, + How mony a day, in summer's prime, + I wil'd awa' my careless time + On the heights o' Bennachie. + + Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife, + And walth is won wi' grief and strife-- + Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life + At the back o' Bennachie. + + Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht, + When baith our hearts were young and licht, + We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht + Wi' speeches fond and free. + + Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins + At the back o' Bennachie. + +"The air," communicates the reverend author of this song, "is +undoubtedly old, from its resemblance to several Gaelic and Irish airs. +'Cuir's chiste moir me,' and several others, might be thought to have +been originally the same _in the first part_. The second part of the air +is, I think, modern." The Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, +in Aberdeenshire. + + + + +JOHN TWEEDIE. + + +John Tweedie was born in the year 1800, in the vicinity of Peebles, +where his father was a shepherd. Obtaining a classical education, he +proceeded to the University of Edinburgh, to prosecute his studies for +the Established Church. By acting as a tutor during the summer months, +he was enabled to support himself at the university, and after the usual +curriculum, he was licensed as a probationer. Though possessed of +popular talents as a preacher, he was not successful in obtaining a +living in the Church. During his probationary career, he was employed as +a tutor in the family of the minister of Newbattle, assisted in the +parish of Eddleston, and ultimately became missionary at Stockbridge, +Edinburgh. He died at Linkfieldhall, Musselburgh, on the 29th February +1844. Tweedie was a person of amiable dispositions and unaffected piety; +he did not much cultivate his gifts as a poet, but the following song +from his pen, to the old air, "Saw ye my Maggie," has received a +considerable measure of popularity.[14] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] In the "Cottagers of Glendale," Mr H. S. Riddell alludes to two of +Tweedie's brothers, who perished among the snow in the manner described +in that poem. The present memoir is prepared from materials chiefly +supplied by Mr Riddell. + + + + +SAW YE MY ANNIE? + + + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Wading 'mang the dew? + My Annie walks as light + As shadow in the night + Or downy cloudlet light + Alang the fields o' blue. + + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + That we may ken her be? + She's fair as nature's flush, + Blithe as dawning's blush, + And gentle as the hush + When e'ening faulds her e'e. + + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Bounding o'er the lea. + Lammies play before her, + Birdies whistle o'er her, + I mysell adore her, + In heavenly ecstasy. + + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Speed, speed, like winged day. + My Annie's rosy cheek + Smiled fair as morning's streak, + We felt, but couldna speak, + 'Neath love's enraptured sway. + + + + +THOMAS ATKINSON. + + +Thomas Atkinson, a respectable writer of prose and verse, was born at +Glasgow about the year 1800. Having completed an apprenticeship to Mr +Turnbull, bookseller, Trongate, he entered into copartnership with Mr +David Robertson, subsequently King's publisher in the city. Of active +business habits, he conducted, along with his partner, an extensive +bookselling trade, yet found leisure for the pursuits of elegant +literature. At an early age he published "The Sextuple Alliance," a +series of poems on the subject of Napoleon Bonaparte, which afforded +considerable promise, and received the commendation of Sir Walter Scott. +In 1827, he published "The Ant," a work in two volumes, one of which +consists of entirely original, and the other of selected matter. "The +Chameleon," a publication of the nature of an annual, commenced in 1831, +and extended to three octavo volumes. Of this work, a _melange_ of prose +and poetry, the contents for the greater part were of his own +composition. The last volume appeared in September 1833, shortly before +his death. + +Deeply interested in the public affairs, Atkinson was distinguished as a +public speaker. At the general election, subsequent to the passing of +the Reform Bill, he was invited to become a candidate in the liberal +interest for the parliamentary representation of the Stirling burghs, in +opposition to Lord Dalmeny, who was returned. Naturally of a sound +constitution, the exertions of his political canvass superinduced an +illness, which terminated in pulmonary consumption. During a voyage he +had undertaken to Barbadoes for the recovery of his health, he died at +sea on the 10th October 1833. His remains, placed in an oaken coffin, +which he had taken along with him, were buried in the deep. He +bequeathed a sum, to be applied, after accumulation, in erecting a +building in Glasgow for scientific purposes. A monument to his memory +has been erected in the Glasgow Necropolis. The following stanzas were +composed by the dying poet at the outset of his voyage, and less than +three weeks prior to his decease; they are dated the "River Mersey," +21st September 1833:-- + + I could not, as I gazed my last--there was on me a spell, + In all its simple agony--breathe that lone word--"Farewell," + Which hath no hope that clings to it, the closer as it dies, + In song alone 'twould pass the lips that loved the dear disguise. + + I go across a bluer wave than now girds round my bark, + As forth the dove went trembling--but to my Father's ark + Shall I return? I may not ask my doubting heart, but yet + To hope and wish in one--how hard the lesson to forget. + + * * * * * + + But drooping head and feeble limbs--and, oh! a beating heart, + Remind the vow'd to sing no more of all his weary part; + Yet, with a voice that trembles as the sounds unloose the spell, + In this, his last and rudest lay, he now can breathe--"Farewell." + +In the "Chameleon" several of Mr Atkinson's songs are set to music, but, +with the exception of "Mary Shearer," none of them are likely to obtain +popularity. + + + + +MARY SHEARER. + + + She's aff and awa', like the lang summer-day, + And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary; + The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae, + But lang for blithe Mary fu' mony may weary. + For mair hearts than mine + Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer; + But nane mair will pine + For the sweet Mary Shearer! + + She cam' wi' the spring, just like ane o' its flowers, + And the blue-bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither; + The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours, + But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither. + Their sweet breath is fled-- + Her kind looks still endear her; + For the heart maun be dead + That forgets Mary Shearer! + + Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung; + An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover; + Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue, + Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover. + Oh! he maun be bless'd + Wha's allow'd to be near her; + For the fairest and best + O' her kind 's Mary Shearer! + + But farewell Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven, + My country and kin,--since I 've sae lov'd the stranger; + Whare she 's been maun be either a pine or a heaven-- + Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger. + Though I try to forget, + In my heart still I 'll wear her, + For mine may be yet-- + Name and a'--Mary Shearer! + + + + +WILLIAM GARDINER. + + +William Gardiner, the author of "Scotland's Hills," was born at Perth +about the year 1800. He established himself as a bookseller in +Cupar-Fife. During a period of residence in Dundee, in acquiring a +knowledge of his trade, he formed the acquaintance of the poet Vedder. +With the assistance of this gifted individual, he composed his popular +song of "Scotland's Hills." Introduced at a theatre in Dundee, it was +received with marked approbation. It was first printed, in January 1829, +in the _Fife Herald_ newspaper, with a humorous preface by Vedder, and +was afterwards copied into the _Edinburgh Literary Gazette_. It has +since found a place in many of the collections of Scottish song, and has +three different times been set to music. + +Gardiner was unfortunate as a bookseller, and ultimately obtained +employment in the publishing office of the _Fife Herald_. He died at +Perth on the 4th July 1845. Some years before his death, he published a +volume of original and selected compositions, under the title of +"Gardiner's Miscellany." He was a person of amiable dispositions; and to +other good qualities of a personal character, added considerable skill +in music. + + + + +O SCOTLAND'S HILLS FOR ME![15] + + + O these are not my country's hills, + Though they seem bright and fair; + Though flow'rets deck their verdant sides, + The heather blooms not there. + Let me behold the mountain steep, + And wild deer roaming free-- + The heathy glen, the ravine deep-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The rose, through all this garden-land, + May shed its rich perfume, + But I would rather wander 'mong + My country's bonnie broom. + There sings the shepherd on the hill, + The ploughman on the lea; + There lives my blithesome mountain maid, + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The throstle and the nightingale + May warble sweeter strains + Than thrills at lovely gloaming hour + O'er Scotland's daisied plains; + Give me the merle's mellow note, + The linnet's liquid lay; + The laverocks on the roseate cloud-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + And I would rather roam beneath + Thy scowling winter skies, + Than listlessly attune my lyre + Where sun-bright flowers arise. + The baron's hall, the peasant's cot + Protect alike the free; + The tyrant dies who breathes thine air; + O Scotland's hills for me! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] At the request of one Roger, a music-master in Edinburgh, who had +obtained a copy of the first two stanzas, a third was added by Mr Robert +Chambers, and in this form the song appears in some of the collections. +Mr Chambers's stanza proceeds thus:-- + + In southern climes the radiant sun + A brighter light displays; + But I love best his milder beams + That shine on Scotland's braes. + Then dear, romantic native land + If e'er I roam from thee, + I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay; + O Scotland's hills for me! + + + + + +ROBERT HOGG. + + +Robert Hogg was born in the parish of Stobo, about the close of the +century. His father was William Hogg, eldest brother of the Ettrick +Shepherd. William Hogg was also a shepherd, a sensible, well-conducted +man, and possessed of considerable literary talent. Receiving a +classical education at the grammar-school of Peebles, Robert proceeded +to the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying for the +Church. Abandoning his original views, he became corrector of the press, +or reader in the printing-office of Messrs Ballantyne. John Wilson, the +future vocalist, was his yoke-fellow in office. His official duties were +arduous, but he contrived to find leisure for contributing, both in +prose and verse, to the periodicals. His literary talents attracted the +favourable notice of Mr J. G. Lockhart, who, on being appointed, in +1825, to conduct the _Quarterly Review_, secured his services as +secretary or literary assistant. He therefore proceeded to London, but +as it was found there was not sufficient occasion for his services in +his new appointment, he returned in a few months to the duties of his +former situation. For a short period he acted as amanuensis to Sir +Walter Scott, while the "Life of Napoleon" was in progress. According to +his own account,[16] this must have been no relief from his ordinary +toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost +evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When _Chambers's +Edinburgh Journal_ was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former +schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of assistant +editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this +office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give +satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor, +both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular +periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to +give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peeblesshire, where he +died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child. + +Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of +humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of +heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary +periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish +Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, entitled +"The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle +in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are +transcribed from a small periodical, entitled "The Rainbow," published +at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Album, in +the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by +his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's +poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of +Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression, +but they are defective in startling originality and power.[17] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[16] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott." + +[17] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert Chambers for +many of the particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG. + + + Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me, + Over the holme so green, over the lea, + Over the corrie, and down by the lake, + Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake, + Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea: + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill; + Come at the dead of night when all is still; + Come over mountain steep, come over brae, + Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray; + Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae, + Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray, + Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben, + Or by the braken howe far down the glen, + Or by the river side; where'er ye be, + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night, + Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light, + To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven, + And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven, + Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + + + +WHEN AUTUMN COMES. + + + When autumn comes an' heather bells + Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells, + An' corn that waves on lowland dales + Is yellow ripe appearing; + + Bonnie lassie will ye gang + Shear wi' me the hale day lang; + An' love will mak' us eithly bang + The weary toil o' shearing? + + An' if the lasses should envy, + Or say we love, then you an' I + Will pass ilk ither slyly by, + As if we werena caring. + + But aye I wi' my heuk will whang + The thistles, if in prickles strang + Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang, + When we gang to the shearing. + + An' aye we'll haud our rig afore, + An' ply to hae the shearing o'er, + Syne you will soon forget you bore + Your neighbours' jibes and jeering. + + For then, my lassie, we'll be wed, + When we hae proof o' ither had, + An' nae mair need to mind what's said + When we're thegither shearing. + + + + +BONNIE PEGGIE, O! + + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O! + When the siller burn rins clear, + When the rose blooms on the brier, + An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O! + + I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O! + You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O! + My heart's been sick and sair, + But it shall be sae nae mair, + I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O! + + You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O! + An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O! + Let the world gae as it will, + Be it weel or be it ill, + Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O! + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O! + Nae mair my love is cross'd, + Sorrow's sairest pang is past, + I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O! + + + + +A WISH BURST. + + + Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea, + With the winds and waves for guides, + From all the wants of Nature free + And all her ties besides. + Beyond where footstep ever trode + Would I hold my onward way, + As wild as the waves on which I rode, + And fearless too as they. + + The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep + Were music to mine ear; + I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep + Close round me without fear. + When winter storms burst from the cloud + And trouble the ocean's breast, + I'd joy me in their roaring loud, + And mid their war find rest. + + By islands fair in the ocean placed, + With waves all murmuring round, + My wayward course should still be traced, + And still no home be found. + When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide, + And men look out to sea, + My bark in silence by should glide, + Their wonder and awe to be. + + When sultry summer suns prevail, + And rest on the parching land, + The cool sea breeze would I inhale, + O'er the ocean breathing bland. + A restless sprite, that likes delight, + In calm and tempest found, + 'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea + For ever and aye to bound. + + + + +I LOVE THE MERRY MOONLIGHT.[18] + + + I love the merry moonlight, + So wooingly it dances, + At midnight hours, round leaves and flowers, + On which the fresh dew glances. + + I love the merry moonlight, + On lake and pool so brightly + It pours its beams, and in the stream's + Rough current leaps so lightly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + It ever shines so cheerily + When night clouds flit, that, but for it, + Would cast a shade so drearily. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For when it gleams so mildly + The passions rest that rule the breast + At other times so wildly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For 'neath it I can borrow + Such blissful dreams, that this world seems + Without a sin or sorrow. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[18] Printed from the author's MS., in the possession of Mr H. S. +Riddell. + + + + +OH, WHAT ARE THE CHAINS OF LOVE MADE OF?[19] + + + Oh, what are the chains of Love made of, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man? + + Can you twist a rope of beams of the sun, + Or have you power to seize, + And round your hand, like threads of silk, + Wind up the wandering breeze? + + Can you collect the morning dew + And, with the greatest pains, + Beat every drop into a link, + And of these links make chains? + + More fleeting in their nature still, + And less substantial are + Than sunbeam, breeze, and drop of dew, + Smile, sigh, and tear--by far. + + And yet of these Love's chains are made, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[19] Printed for the first time from the original MS. + + + + +JOHN WRIGHT. + + +A son of genius and of misfortune, John Wright was born on the 1st +September 1805, at the farm-house of Auchincloigh, in the parish of +Sorn, Ayrshire. From his mother, a woman of much originality and +shrewdness, he inherited a strong inclination towards intellectual +culture. His school education was circumscribed, but he experienced +delight in improving his mind, by solitary musings amidst the amenities +of the vicinity of Galston, a village to which his father had removed. +At the age of seven, he began to assist his father in his occupation of +a coal driver; and in his thirteenth year he was apprenticed to the +loom. His master supplied him with books, which he perused with avidity, +and he took an active part in the weekly meetings of apprentices for +mutual literary improvement; but his chief happiness was still +experienced in lonely rambles amidst the interesting scenes of the +neighbourhood, which, often celebrated by the poets, were especially +calculated to foment his own rapidly developing fancy. He fell in love, +was accepted, and ultimately cast off--incidents which afforded him +opportunities of celebrating the charms, and deploring the inconstancy +of the fair. He composed a poem, of fifteen hundred lines, entitled +"Mahomet, or the Hegira," and performed the extraordinary mental effort +of retaining the whole on his memory, at the period being unable to +write. "The Retrospect," a poem of more matured power, was announced in +1824. At the recommendation of friends, having proceeded to Edinburgh to +seek the counsel of men of letters, he submitted the MS. of his poem to +Professor Wilson, Dr M'Crie, Mr Glassford Bell, and others, who +severally expressed their approval, and commended a publication. "The +Retrospect," accordingly, appeared with a numerous list of subscribers, +and was well received by the press. The poet now removed to Cambuslang, +near Glasgow, where he continued to prosecute his occupation of weaving. +He entered into the married state by espousing Margaret Chalmers, a +young woman of respectable connexions and considerable literary tastes. +The desire of obtaining funds to afford change of climate to his wife, +who was suffering from impaired health, induced him to propose a second +edition of his poems, to be published by subscription. During the course +of his canvass, he unfortunately contracted those habits of intemperance +which have proved the bane of so many of the sons of genius. Returning +to the loom at Cambuslang, he began to exchange the pleasures of the +family hearth for the boisterous excitement of the tavern. He separated +from his wife and children, and became the victim of dissipation. In +1853, some of his literary friends published the whole of his poetical +works in a duodecimo volume, in the hope of procuring the means of +extricating him from his painful condition. The attempt did not succeed. +He died in an hospital in Glasgow, of fever, contracted by intemperance. +As a poet, he was possessed of a rich fancy, with strong descriptive +powers. His "Retrospect" abounds with beautiful passages; and some of +his shorter poems and songs are destined to survive. + + + + +AN AUTUMNAL CLOUD. + + + Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, + Soaring to heaven with the eagle so proud, + Floating o'er the sky + Like a spirit, to descry + Each bright realm,--and, when I die, + May it be my shroud! + + I would skim afar o'er ocean, and drink of bliss my fill, + O'er the thunders of Ni'gara and cataracts of Nile,-- + With rising rainbows wreathed, + In mist and darkness sheathed, + Where nought but spirits breathed + Around me the while. + + Above the mighty Alps (o'er the tempest's angry god + Careering on the avalanche) should be my bless'd abode. + There, where Nature lowers more wild + Than her most uncultured child, + Revels beauty--as one smiled + O'er life's darkest mood. + + Our aerial flight should be where eye hath never been, + O'er the stormy Polar deep, where the icy Alps are seen, + Where Death sits, crested high, + As he would invade the sky, + Whilst the living valleys lie + In their beautiful green! + + Spirit of the peaceful autumnal eve! + Child of enchantment! behind thee leave + Thy semblance mantled o'er me; + Too full thy tide of glory + For Fancy to restore thee, + Or Memory give! + + + + +THE MAIDEN FAIR. + + + The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, + The greenwood o'er the mossy stream, + That roll'd in rapture's wildest mood, + And flutter'd in the fairy beam. + Through light clouds flash'd the fitful gleam + O'er hill and dell,--all Nature lay + Wrapp'd in enchantment, like the dream + Of her that charm'd my homeward way! + + Long had I mark'd thee, maiden fair! + And drunk of bliss from thy dark eye, + And still, to feed my fond despair, + Bless'd thy approach, and, passing by, + I turn'd me round to gaze and sigh, + In worship wild, and wish'd thee mine, + On that fair breast to live and die, + O'er-power'd with transport so divine! + + Still sacred be that hour to love, + And dear the season of its birth, + And fair the glade, and green the grove, + Its bowers ne'er droop in wintry dearth + Of melody and woodland mirth!-- + The hour, the spot, so dear to me! + That wean'd my soul from all on earth, + To be for ever bless'd in thee. + + + + +THE OLD BLIGHTED THORN. + + + All night, by the pathway that crosses the moor, + I waited on Mary, I linger'd till morn, + Yet thought her not false--she had ever been true + To her tryst by the old blighted thorn. + + I had heard of Love lighting to darken the heart, + Fickle, fleeting as wind and the dews of the morn; + Such were not my fears, though I sigh'd all night long, + And wept 'neath the old blighted thorn. + + The snows, that were deep, had awaken'd my dread, + I mark'd as footprints far below by the burn; + I sped to the valley--I found her deep sunk, + On her way to the old blighted thorn! + + I whisper'd, "My Mary!"--she spoke not: I caught + Her hand, press'd her pale cheek--'twas icy and cold; + Then sunk on her bosom--its throbbings were o'er-- + Nor knew how I quitted my hold. + + + + +THE WRECKED MARINER. + + + Stay, proud bird of the shore! + Carry my last breath with thee to the cliff, + Where waits our shatter'd skiff-- + One that shall mark nor it nor lover more. + + Fan with thy plumage bright + Her heaving heart to rest, as thou dost mine; + And, gently to divine + The tearful tale, flap out her beacon-light. + + Again swoop out to sea, + With lone and lingering wail--then lay thy head, + As thou thyself wert dead, + Upon her breast, that she may weep for me. + + Now let her bid false Hope + For ever hide her beam, nor trust again + The peace-bereaving strain-- + Life has, but still far hence, choice flowers to crop. + + Oh! bid not her repine, + And deem my loss too bitter to be borne, + Yet all of passion scorn + But the mild, deep'ning memory of mine. + + Thou art away, sweet wind! + Bear the last trickling tear-drop on thy wing, + And o'er her bosom fling + The love-fraught pearly shower till rest it find! + + + + +JOSEPH GRANT. + + +Joseph Grant, a short-lived poet and prose writer, was born on the farm +of Affrusk, parish of Banchory-Ternan, Kincardineshire, on the 26th of +May 1805. He was instructed in the ordinary branches at the parish +school, and employed as a youth in desultory labour about his father's +farm. From boyhood he cherished a passionate love for reading, and was +no less ardent in his admiration of the picturesque and beautiful in +nature. So early as his fourteenth year he composed verses of some +merit. In 1828, he published "Juvenile Lays," a collection of poems and +songs; and in 1830, "Kincardineshire Traditions"--a small volume of +ballads--both of which obtained a favourable reception. Desirous of +emanating from the retirement of his native parish, he accepted, in +1831, the situation of assistant to a shop-keeper in Stonehaven, and +soon afterwards proceeded to Dundee, where he was employed in the office +of the _Dundee Guardian_ newspaper, and subsequently as clerk to a +respectable writer. + +Grant furnished a series of tales and sketches for _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_. In 1834, he published a second small volume of "Poems and +Songs;" and subsequently, in the same year, committed to the press a +prose work, entitled "Tales of the Glens," which he did not, however, +survive to publish. After an illness of fifteen weeks, of a pulmonary +complaint, he died on the 14th April 1835, in his thirtieth year. His +remains were interred in the churchyard of Strachan, Kincardineshire, +where a tombstone, inscribed with some elegiac verses, has been erected +to his memory. The "Tales of the Glens" were published shortly after his +decease, under the editorial care of the late Mr James M'Cosh, of +Dundee, editor of the _Northern Warder_ newspaper; and, in 1836, an +edition of his collected works was published at Edinburgh, with a +biographical preface by the poet Nicol. + +Of a fine genius, a gentle and amiable nature, and pure Christian +sentiments, Grant afforded eminent promise, with a prolonged career, of +becoming an ornament to literature. Cut down in the bloom of youth, his +elegy has been recorded by the Brechin poet, Alexander Laing-- + + "A kinder, warmer heart than his + Was ne'er to minstrel given; + And kinder, holier sympathies + Ne'er sought their native heaven." + + + + +THE BLACKBIRD'S HYMN IS SWEET. + + + The blackbird's hymn is sweet + At fall of gloaming, + When slow, o'er grove and hill, + Night's shades are coming; + But there is a sound that far + More deeply moves us-- + The low sweet voice of her + Who truly loves us. + + Fair is the evening star + Rising in glory, + O'er the dark hill's brow, + Where mists are hoary; + But the star whose rays + The heart falls nearest, + Is the love-speaking eye + Of our heart's dearest. + + Oh, lonely, lonely is + The human bosom, + That ne'er has nursed the sweets + Of young Love's blossom! + The loveliest breast is like + A starless morning, + When clouds frown dark and cold, + And storms are forming. + + + + +LOVE'S ADIEU. + + + The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, + Blinks over the dark green sea, + An' the moon 's creepin' down to the hill-tap, + Richt dim and drowsilie. + An' the music o' the mornin' + Is murmurin' alang the air; + Yet still my dowie heart lingers + To catch one sweet throb mair. + + We've been as blest, Eliza, + As children o' earth can be, + Though my fondest wish has been knit by + The bonds of povertie; + An' through life's misty sojourn, + That still may be our fa', + But hearts that are link'd for ever + Ha'e strength to bear it a'. + + The cot by the mutterin' burnie, + Its wee bit garden an' field, + May ha'e mair o' the blessin's o' Heaven + Than lichts o' the lordliest bield; + There 's many a young brow braided + Wi' jewels o' far-off isles, + But woe may be drinkin' the heart-springs, + While we see nought but smiles. + + But adieu, my ain Eliza! + Where'er my wanderin's be, + Undyin' remembrance will make thee + The star o' my destinie; + An' well I ken, thou loved one, + That aye, till I return, + Thou 'lt treasure pure faith in thy bosom, + Like a gem in a gowden urn. + + + + +DUGALD MOORE. + + +A poet of remarkable ingenuity and power, Dugald Moore was born in +Stockwell Street, Glasgow, in 1805. His father, who was a private +soldier in one of the Highland regiments, died early in life, leaving +his mother in circumstances of poverty. From his mother's private +tuition, he received the whole amount of his juvenile education. When a +child he was sent to serve as a tobacco-boy for a small pittance of +wages, and as a youth was received into the copper-printing branch of +the establishment of Messrs James Lumsden and Son, booksellers, Queen +Street. He very early began to write verses, and some of his +compositions having attracted the notice of Mr Lumsden, senior, that +benevolent gentleman afforded him every encouragement in the prosecution +of his literary tastes. Through Mr Lumsden's personal exertions in +procuring subscribers, he was enabled to lay before the public in 1829 a +volume of poems entitled "The African, a Tale, and other Poems." Of this +work a second edition was required in the following year, when he +likewise gave to the world a second volume, with the title "Scenes from +the Flood; the Tenth Plague, and other Poems." "The Bridal Night, and +other Poems," a volume somewhat larger than its predecessors, appeared +from his pen in 1831. The profits of these publications enabled him to +commence on his own account as a bookseller and stationer in the city. +His shop, No. 96 Queen Street, became the rendezvous of men of letters, +and many of the influential families gave its occupant the benefit of +their custom. + +In 1833, Moore published "The Bard of the North, a series of Poetical +Tales, illustrative of Highland Scenery and Character;" in 1835, "The +Hour of Retribution, and other Poems;" and in 1839, "The Devoted One, +and other Poems." He died unmarried, after a brief illness, on the 2d +January 1841, in his thirty-sixth year, leaving a competency for the +support of his aged mother. Buried in the Necropolis of the city, a +massive monument, surmounted by a bust, has been raised by his personal +friends in tribute to his memory. Though slightly known to fame, Moore +is entitled to rank among the most gifted of the modern national poets. +Possessed of a vigorous conception, a lofty fancy, intense energy of +feeling, and remarkable powers of versification, his poetry is +everywhere impressed with the most decided indications of genius. He has +chosen the grandest subjects, which he has adorned with the richest +illustration, and an imagery copious and sublime. Had he occupied his +Muse with themes less exalted, he might have enjoyed a wider temporary +popularity; as it is, his poems will find admirers in future times. + + + + +RISE, MY LOVE. + + + Rise, my love! the moon, unclouded, + Wanders o'er the dark blue sea; + Sleep the tyrant's eye has shrouded, + Hynda comes to set thee free! + Leave those vaults of pain and sorrow, + On the long and dreaming deep; + A bower will greet us ere to-morrow, + Where our eyes may cease to weep. + + Oh! some little isle of gladness, + Smiling in the waters clear, + Where the dreary tone of sadness + Never smote the lonely ear-- + Soon will greet us, and deliver + Souls so true, to freedom's plan; + Death may sunder us, but never + Tyrant's threats, nor fetters can. + + Then our lute's exulting numbers, + Unrestrain'd will wander on, + While the night has seal'd in slumbers, + Fair creation, all her own. + And we'll wed, while music stealeth + Through the starry fields above, + While each bounding spirit feeleth + All the luxury of love. + + Then we'll scorn oppression's minions, + All the despot's bolts and powers; + While Time wreathes his heavy pinions + With love's brightest passion-flowers. + Rise, then! let us fly together, + Now the moon laughs on the sea; + East or west, I care not whither, + When with love and liberty! + + + + +JULIA. + + + Born where the glorious star-lights trace + In mountain snows their silver face, + Where Nature, vast and rude, + Looks as if by her God design'd + To fill the bright eternal mind, + With her fair magnitude. + + Hers was a face, to which was given + Less portion of the earth than heaven, + As if each trait had stole + Its hue from Nature's shapes of light; + As if stars, flowers, and all things bright + Had join'd to form her soul. + + Her heart was young--she loved to breathe + The air which spins the mountain's wreath, + To wander o'er the wild, + To list the music of the deep, + To see the round stars on it sleep, + For she was Nature's child! + + Nursed where the soul imbibes the print + Of freedom--where nought comes to taint, + Or its warm feelings quell: + She felt love o'er her spirit driven, + Such as the angels felt in heaven, + Before they sinn'd and fell. + + Her mind was tutor'd from its birth, + From all that's beautiful on earth-- + Lights which cannot expire-- + From all their glory, she had caught + A lustre, till each sense seem'd fraught + With heaven's celestial fire. + + The desert streams familiar grown, + The stars had language of their own, + The hills contain'd a voice + With which she could converse, and bring + A charm from each insensate thing, + Which bade her soul rejoice. + + She had the feeling and the fire, + That fortune's stormiest blast could tire, + Though delicate and young; + Her bosom was not formed to bend-- + Adversity, that firmest friend, + Had all its fibres strung. + + Such was my love--she scorn'd to hide + A passion which she deem'd a pride! + Oft have we sat and view'd + The beauteous stars walk through the night, + And Cynthia lift her sceptre bright, + To curb old Ocean's mood. + + She'd clasp me as if ne'er to part, + That I might feel her beating heart-- + Might read her living eye; + Then pause! I've felt the pure tide roll + Through every vein, which to my soul, + Said--Nature could not lie. + + + + +LUCY'S GRAVE. + + + My spirit could its vigil hold + For ever at this silent spot; + But, ah! the heart within is cold, + The sleeper heeds me not: + The fairy scenes of love and youth, + The smiles of hope, the tales of truth, + By her are all forgot: + Her spirit with my bliss is fled-- + I only weep above the dead! + + I need not view the grassy swell, + Nor stone escutcheon'd fair; + I need no monument to tell + That thou art lying there: + I feel within, a world like this, + A fearful blank in all my bliss-- + An agonized despair, + Which paints the earth in cheerful bloom, + But tells me, thou art in the tomb! + + I knew Death's fatal power, alas + Could doom man's hopes to pine, + But thought that many a year would pass + Before he scatter'd mine! + Too soon he quench'd our morning rays, + Brief were our loves of early days-- + Brief as those bolts that shine + With beautiful yet transient form, + Round the dark fringes of the storm! + + I little thought, when first we met, + A few short months would see + Thy sun, before its noontide, set + In dark eternity! + While love was beaming from thy face, + A lover's eye but ill could trace + Aught that obscured its ray; + So calm its pain thy bosom bore, + I thought not death was at its core! + + The silver moon is shining now + Upon thy lonely bed, + Pale as thine own unblemish'd brow, + Cold as thy virgin head; + She seems to breathe of many a day + Now shrouded with thee in the clay, + Of visions that have fled, + When we beneath her holy flame, + Dream'd over hopes that never came! + + Hark! 'tis the solemn midnight bell, + It mars the hallow'd scene; + And must we bid again--farewell! + Must life still intervene? + Its charms are vain! my heart is laid + E'en with thine own, celestial maid! + A few short days have been + An age of pain--a few may be + A welcome passport, love! to thee. + + + + +THE FORGOTTEN BRAVE. + + + 'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, + As the patriot sons of the mountain should die, + With the mail on each bosom, the sword in each hand, + On the heath of the desert they lie. + Like their own mountain eagles they rush'd to the fight, + Like the oaks of their deserts they braved its rude blast; + Their blades in the morning look'd dazzling and bright, + But red when the battle was past. + + They rush'd on, exulting in honour, and met + The foes of their country in battle array; + But the sun of their glory in darkness hath set, + And the flowers of the forest are faded away! + Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep, + No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near, + To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep, + Or drop o'er their ashes a tear. + + + + +THE FIRST SHIP. + + + The sky in beauty arch'd + The wide and weltering flood, + While the winds in triumph march'd + Through their pathless solitude-- + Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest, + That like space in darkness slept, + When his watch old Silence kept, + Ere the earliest planet leapt + From its breast. + + A speck is on the deeps, + Like a spirit in her flight; + How beautiful she keeps + Her stately path in light! + She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee-- + The sun has on her smiled, + And the waves, no longer wild, + Sing in glory round that child + Of the sea. + + 'Twas at the set of sun + That she tilted o'er the flood, + Moving like God alone + O'er the glorious solitude-- + The billows crouch around her as her slaves. + How exulting are her crew-- + Each sight to them is new, + As they sweep along the blue + Of the waves! + + Fair herald of the fleets + That yet shall cross the wave, + Till the earth with ocean meets + One universal grave, + What armaments shall follow thee in joy! + Linking each distant land + With trade's harmonious band, + Or bearing havoc's brand + To destroy! + + + + +WEEP NOT. + + + Though this wild brain is aching, + Spill not thy tears with mine; + Come to my heart, though breaking, + Its firmest half is thine. + Thou wert not made for sorrow, + Then do not weep with me; + There is a lovely morrow, + That yet will dawn on thee. + + When I am all forgotten-- + When in the grave I lie-- + When the heart that loved thee 's broken, + And closed the sparkling eye; + Love's sunshine still will cheer thee, + Unsullied, pure, and deep; + For the God who 's ever near thee, + Will never see thee weep. + + + + +TO THE CLYDE. + + + When cities of old days + But meet the savage gaze, + Stream of my early ways + Thou wilt roll. + Though fleets forsake thy breast, + And millions sink to rest-- + Of the bright and glorious west + Still the soul. + + When the porch and stately arch, + Which now so proudly perch + O'er thy billows, on their march + To the sea, + Are but ashes in the shower; + Still the jocund summer hour, + From his cloud will weave a bower + Over thee. + + When the voice of human power + Has ceased in mart and bower, + Still the broom and mountain flower + Will thee bless. + And the mists that love to stray + O'er the Highlands, far away, + Will come down their deserts gray + To thy kiss. + + And the stranger, brown with toil, + From the far Atlantic soil, + Like the pilgrim of the Nile, + Yet may come + To search the solemn heaps + That moulder by thy deeps, + Where desolation sleeps, + Ever dumb. + + Though fetters yet should clank + O'er the gay and princely rank + Of cities on thy bank, + All sublime; + Still thou wilt wander on, + Till eternity has gone, + And broke the dial stone + Of old Time. + + + + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON. + + +The author of the deservedly popular words and air of "The Araby Maid," +Thomas Gordon Torry Anderson was the youngest son of Patrick Torry, +D.D., titular bishop of St Andrews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane. His mother, +Jane Young, was the daughter of Dr William Young, of Fawsyde, +Kincardineshire. Born at Peterhead on the 9th July 1805, he received his +elementary education at the parish school of that place. He subsequently +prosecuted his studies in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and the +University of Edinburgh. In 1827, he received holy orders, and was +admitted to the incumbency of St John's Episcopal Church, Portobello. He +subsequently became assistant in St George's Episcopal Church, +Edinburgh, and was latterly promoted to the pastorate of St Paul's +Episcopal Church, Dundee. + +Devoted to the important duties of the clerical office, Mr Torry +Anderson experienced congenial recreation in the cultivation of music +and song, and in the occasional composition of both. He composed, in +1833, the words and air of "The Araby Maid," which speedily obtained a +wide popularity. The music and words of the songs, entitled "The +Maiden's Vow," and "I Love the Sea," were composed in 1837 and 1854, +respectively. To a work, entitled "Poetical Illustrations of the +Achievements of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions in Arms," +published in 1852, he extensively contributed. During the summer of +1855, he fell into bad health, and was obliged to resign his incumbency. +He afterwards resided on his estate of Fawsyde, to which he had +succeeded, in 1850, on the death of his uncle, Dr Young. He died at +Aberdeen on the 20th of June 1856, in his fifty-first year. He was three +times married--first, in 1828, to Mrs Gaskin Anderson of Tushielaw, +whose name he adopted to suit the requirements of an entail; secondly, +he espoused, in 1838, Elizabeth Jane, daughter of Dr Thomas Sutter, +R.N.; and lastly, Mrs Hill, widow of Mr William Hill, R.N., whom he +married in 1854. He has left a widow and six children. + + + + +THE ARABY MAID. + + + Away on the wings of the wind she flies, + Like a thing of life and light-- + And she bounds beneath the eastern skies, + And the beauty of eastern night. + + Why so fast flies the bark through the ocean's foam, + Why wings it so speedy a flight? + 'Tis an Araby maid who hath left her home, + To fly with her Christian knight. + + She hath left her sire and her native land, + The land which from childhood she trode, + And hath sworn, by the pledge of her beautiful hand, + To worship the Christian's God. + + Then away, away, oh swift be thy flight, + It were death one moment's delay; + For behind there is many a blade glancing bright-- + Then away--away--away! + + They are safe in the land where love is divine, + In the land of the free and the brave-- + They have knelt at the foot of the holy shrine, + Nought can sever them now but the grave. + + + + +THE MAIDEN'S VOW. + + + The maid is at the altar kneeling, + Hark the chant is loudly pealing-- + Now it dies away! + + Her prayers are said at the holy shrine, + No other thought but thought divine + Doth her sad bosom fill. + + The world to her is nothing now, + For she hath ta'en a solemn vow + To do her father's will. + + But why hath one so fair, so young, + The joys of life thus from her flung-- + Why hath she ta'en the veil? + + Her lover fell where the brave should fall, + Amidst the fight, when the trumpet's call + Proclaim'd the victory. + + He fought, he fell, a hero brave-- + And though he fill a lowly grave, + His name can never die. + + The victory's news to the maiden came-- + They loudly breathed her lover's name, + Who for his country fell. + + But vain the loudest trumpet tone + Of fame to her, when he was gone + To whom the praise was given! + + Her sun of life had set in gloom-- + Its joys were withered in his tomb-- + She vow'd herself to Heaven. + + + + +I LOVE THE SEA. + + + I love the sea, I love the sea, + My childhood's home, my manhood's rest, + My cradle in my infancy-- + The only bosom I have press'd. + I cannot breathe upon the land, + Its manners are as bonds to me, + Till on the deck again I stand, + I cannot feel that I am free. + + Then tell me not of stormy graves-- + Though winds be high, there let them roar; + I 'd rather perish on the waves + Than pine by inches on the shore. + I ask no willow where I lie, + My mourner let the mermaid be, + My only knell the sea-bird's cry, + My winding-sheet the boundless sea! + + + + +GEORGE ALLAN. + + +George Allan was the youngest son of John Allan, farmer at Paradykes, +near Edinburgh, where he was born on the 2d February 1806. Ere he had +completed his fourteenth year, he became an orphan by the death of both +his parents. Intending to prosecute his studies as a lawyer, he served +an apprenticeship in the office of a Writer to the Signet. He became a +member of that honourable body, but almost immediately relinquished +legal pursuits, and proceeded to London, resolved to commence the career +of a man of letters. In the metropolis his literary aspirations were +encouraged by Allan Cunningham and Mr and Mrs S. C. Hall. In 1829, he +accepted an appointment in Jamaica; but, his health suffering from the +climate of the West Indies, he returned in the following year. Shortly +after his arrival in Britain, he was fortunate in obtaining the +editorship of the _Dumfries Journal_, a respectable Conservative +newspaper. This he conducted with distinguished ability and success for +three years, when certain new arrangements, consequent on a change in +the proprietary, rendered his services unnecessary. A letter of Allan +Cunningham, congratulating him on his appointment as a newspaper editor, +is worthy of quotation, from its shrewd and sagacious counsels:-- + + "Study to fill your paper," writes Cunningham, "with + such agreeable and diversified matter as will allure + readers; correct intelligence, sprightly and elegant + paragraphs, remarks on men and manners at once free + and generous; and local intelligence pertaining to the + district, such as please men of the Nith in a far land. + These are the staple commodity of a newspaper, and + these you can easily have. A few literary paragraphs + you can easily scatter about; these attract + booksellers, and booksellers will give advertisements + where they find their works are noticed. Above all + things, write cautiously concerning all localities; if + you praise much, a hundred will grumble; if you are + severe, one only may complain, but twenty will shake + the head. You will have friends on one side of the + water desiring one thing, friends on the other side + desiring the reverse, and in seeking to please one you + vex ten. An honest heart, a clear head, and a good + conscience, will enable you to get well through all." + +On terminating his connexion with the _Dumfries Journal_, Allan +proceeded to Edinburgh, where he was immediately employed by the Messrs +Chambers as a literary assistant. In a letter addressed to a friend, +about this period, he thus expresses himself regarding his enterprising +employers:-- + + "They are never idle. Their very recreations are made conducive + to their business, and they go through their labours with a + spirit and cheerfulness, which shew how consonant these are with + their dispositions." "Mr Robert Chambers," he adds, "is the most + mild, unassuming, kind-hearted man I ever knew, and is perfectly + uneasy if he thinks there is any one uncomfortable about him. The + interest which he has shewn in my welfare has been beyond + everything I ever experienced, and the friendly yet delicate way + in which he is every other day asking me if I am all comfortable + at home, and bidding me apply to him when I am in want of + anything, equally puzzles me to understand or express due thanks + for." + +Besides contributing many interesting articles to _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_, and furnishing numerous communications to the _Scotsman_ +newspaper, Allan wrote a "Life of Sir Walter Scott," in an octavo +volume, which commanded a wide sale, and was much commended by the +public press. In preparing that elegant work, the "Original National +Melodies of Scotland," the ingenious editor, Mr Peter M'Leod, was +favoured by him with several songs, which he set forth in that +publication, with suitable music. In 1834, some of his relatives +succeeded, by political influence, in obtaining for him a subordinate +situation in the Stamp Office,--one which at once afforded him a certain +subsistence, and did not necessarily preclude the exercise of his +literary talents. But a constitutional weakness of the nervous system +did not permit of his long enjoying the smiles of fortune. He died +suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th August 1835, in his +thirtieth year. In October 1831, he had espoused Mrs Mary Hill, a widow, +eldest daughter of Mr William Pagan, of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan +Cunningham, who, with one of their two sons, still survives. Allan was a +man of singularly gentle and amiable dispositions, a pleasant companion, +and devoted friend. In person he was tall and rather thin, with a +handsome, intelligent countenance. An enthusiast in the concerns of +literature, it is to be feared that he cut short his career by +overstrained application. His verses are animated and vigorous, and are +largely imbued with the national spirit.[20] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] We are indebted to William Pagan, Esq. of Clayton, author of "Road +Reform," for much of the information contained in this memoir. Mr Pagan +kindly procured for our use the whole of Mr Allan's papers and MSS. + + + + +IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?[21] + + + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman? + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever? + Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer, + Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair, + To give back our wrongs to the giver? + To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone, + Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on, + With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them, + And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them; + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen, + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + + +II.--(M'CRIMMAN.) + + Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom + As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now, + But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom, + And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow; + Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer, + And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there, + But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never-- + Never! Never! Never! + + +III.--(CLANSMEN.) + + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crimman? + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not? + If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know + That the soul of M'Crimman ne'er quail'd when a foe + Bared his blade in the land he had won not! + Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind, + And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the wind, + There our broad pennon flies, and the keen steeds are prancing, + 'Mid the startling war-cries, and the war-weapons glancing, + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen; + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[21] In Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," this song is attributed to +the Rev. George Allan, D.D. It is also inserted among the songs of the +Ettrick Shepherd, published by the Messrs Blackie. The latter blunder is +accounted for by the fact that a copy of the song, which was sent to the +Shepherd by Mr H. S. Riddell, as a specimen of Mr Allan's poetical +talents, had been found among his papers subsequent to his decease. This +song, with the two immediately following, appeared in M'Leod's "National +Melodies," but they are here transcribed from the author's MSS. + + + + +I WILL THINK OF THEE YET. + + + I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, + In the land of the stranger, deserted and lone, + Though the flowers of this earth are all wither'd to me, + And the hopes which once bloom'd in my bosom are gone, + I will think of thee yet, and the vision of night + Will oft bring thine image again to my sight, + And the tokens will be, as the dream passes by, + A sigh from the heart and a tear from the eye. + + I will think of thee yet, though misfortune fall chill + O'er my path, as yon storm-cloud that lours on the lea, + And I'll deem that this life is worth cherishing still, + While I know that one heart still beats warmly for me. + Yes! Grief and Despair may encompass me round, + 'Till not e'en the shadow of peace can be found; + But mine anguish will cease when my thoughts turn to you + And the wild mountain land which my infancy knew. + + I will think of thee; oh! if I e'er can forget + The love that grew warm as all others grew cold, + 'Twill but be when the sun of my reason hath set, + Or memory fled from her care-haunted hold; + But while life and its woes to bear on is my doom, + Shall my love, like a flower in the wilderness, bloom; + And thine still shall be, as so long it hath been, + A light to my soul when no other is seen. + + + + +LASSIE, DEAR LASSIE. + + + Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, + And the brier-bush is sweet whar the burnie is rowin', + But the best buds of Nature may blaw till they weary, + Ere they match the sweet e'e or the cheek o' my dearie! + + I wander alane, when the gray gloamin' closes, + And the lift is spread out like a garden o' roses; + But there 's nought which the earth or the sky can discover + Sae fair as thysell to thy fond-hearted lover! + + The snaw-flake is pure frae the clud when it 's shaken, + And melts into dew ere it fa's on the bracken, + Oh sae pure is the heart I hae won to my keepin'! + But warm as the sun-blink that thaw'd it to weepin'! + + Then come to my arms, and the bosom thou 'rt pressing + Will tell by its throbs a' there's joy in confessing, + For my lips could repeat it a thousand times over, + And the tale still seem new to thy fond-hearted lover. + + + + +WHEN I LOOK FAR DOWN ON THE VALLEY BELOW ME.[22] + + + When I look far down on the valley below me, + Where lowly the lot of the cottager's cast, + While the hues of the evening seem ling'ring to shew me + How calmly the sun of this life may be pass'd, + How oft have I wish'd that kind Heaven had granted + My hours in such spot to have peacefully run, + Where, if pleasures were few, they were all that I wanted, + And Contentment 's a blessing which wealth never won. + + I have mingled with mankind, and far I have wander'd, + Have shared all the joys youth so madly pursues; + I have been where the bounties of Nature were squander'd + Till man became thankless and learn'd to refuse! + Yet _there_ I still found that man's innocence perish'd, + As the senses might sway or the passions command; + That the scenes where alone the soul's treasures were cherish'd, + Were the peaceful abodes of my own native land. + + Then why should I leave this dear vale of my choice + And the friends of my bosom, so faithful and true, + To mix in the great world, whose jarring and noise + Must make my soul cheerless though sorrows were few? + Ah! too sweet would this life of probation be render'd, + Our feelings ebb back from Eternity's strand, + And the hopes of Elysium in vain would be tender'd, + Could we have all we wish'd in our dear native land. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[22] Printed, for the first time, from the author's MS. + + + + +I WILL WAKE MY HARP WHEN THE SHADES OF EVEN.[23] + + + I will wake my harp when the shades of even + Are closing around the dying day, + When thoughts that wear the hues of Heaven + Are weaning my heart from the world away; + And my strain will tell of a land and home + Which my wand'ring steps have left behind, + Where the hearts that throb and the feet that roam + Are free as the breath of their mountain wind. + + I will wake my harp when the star of Vesper + Hath open'd its eye on the peaceful earth, + When not a leaf is heard to whisper + That a dew-drop falls, or a breeze hath birth. + And you, dear friends of my youthful years, + Will oft be the theme of my lonely lay, + And a smile for the past will gild the tears + That tell how my heart is far away. + + I will wake my harp when the moon is holding + Her star-tent court in the midnight sky, + When the spirits of love, their wings unfolding, + Bring down sweet dreams to each fond one's eye. + And well may I hail that blissful hour, + For my spirit will then, from its thrall set free, + Return to my own lov'd maiden's bower, + And gather each sigh that she breathes for me. + + Thus, still when those pensive hours are bringing + The feelings and thoughts which no lips can tell, + I will charm each cloud from my soul by singing + Of all I have left and lov'd so well. + Oh! Fate may smile, and Sorrow may cease, + But the dearest hope we on earth can gain + Is to come, after long sad years, in peace, + And be join'd with the friends of our love, again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[23] Printed for the first time. + + + + +THOMAS BRYDSON. + + +Thomas Brydson was born in Glasgow in 1806. On completing the usual +course of study at the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, he became +a licentiate of the Established Church. He assisted in the Middle +Church, Greenock, and in the parish of Kilmalcolm, Renfrewshire, and +was, in 1839, ordained minister of Levern Chapel, near Paisley. In 1842, +he was translated to the full charge of Kilmalcolm, where he continued +to minister with much acceptance till his death, which took place +suddenly on the 28th January 1855. + +A man of fine fancy and correct taste, Mr Brydson was, in early life, +much devoted to poetical composition. In 1829, he published a duodecimo +volume of "Poems;" and a more matured collection of his poetical pieces +in 1832, under the title of "Pictures of the Past." He contributed, in +prose and verse, to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_; the _Republic of +Letters_, a Glasgow publication; and some of the London annuals. Though +fond of correspondence with his literary friends, and abundantly +hospitable, he latterly avoided general society, and, in a great +measure, confined himself to his secluded parish of Kilmalcolm. Among +his parishioners he was highly esteemed for the unction and fervour +which distinguished his public ministrations, as well as for the +gentleness of his manners and the generosity of his heart. Of domestic +animals he was devotedly fond. He took delight in pastoral scenery, and +in solitary musings among the hills. His poetry is pervaded by elegance +of sentiment and no inconsiderable vigour of expression. + + + + +ALL LOVELY AND BRIGHT. + + + All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, + Seem the days when I wander'd with you, + Like the green isles that swell in this far distant clime, + On the deeps that are trackless and blue. + + And now, while the torrent is loud on the hill, + And the howl of the forest is drear, + I think of the lapse of our own native rill-- + I think of thy voice with a tear. + + The light of my taper is fading away, + It hovers, and trembles, and dies; + The far-coming morn on her sea-paths is gray, + But sleep will not come to mine eyes. + + Yet why should I ponder, or why should I grieve + O'er the joys that my childhood has known? + We may meet, when the dew-flowers are fragrant at eve, + As we met in the days that are gone. + + + + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY. + + +Though a native of Ireland, Charles Doyne Sillery has some claim to +enrolment among the minstrels of Caledonia. His mother was a +Scotchwoman, and he was himself brought up and educated in Edinburgh. He +was born at Athlone, in Ireland, on the 2d of March 1807. His father, +who bore the same Christian and middle names, was a captain of the Royal +Artillery.[24] He distinguished himself in the engagements of Talavera +on the 27th and 28th of July 1809; but from his fatigues died soon +after. His mother, Catherine Fyfe, was the youngest daughter of Mr +Barclay Fyfe, merchant in Leith. She subsequently became the wife of +James Watson, Esq., now of Tontley Hall, Berkshire. + +Of lively and playful dispositions, Sillery did not derive much +advantage from scholastic training. His favourite themes were poetry and +music, and these he assiduously cultivated, much to the prejudice of +other important studies. At a subsequent period he devoted himself with +ardour to his improvement in general knowledge. He read extensively, and +became conversant with the ancient and some of the modern languages. +Disappointed in obtaining a commission in the Royal Artillery, on which +he had calculated, he proceeded to India as midshipman in a merchant +vessel. Conceiving a dislike to a seafaring life, after a single voyage, +he entered on the study of medicine in the University of Edinburgh. From +early youth he composed verses. In 1829, while only in his twenty-second +year, he published, by subscription, a poem, in nine cantos, entitled +"Vallery; or, the Citadel of the Lake." This production, which refers to +the times of Chivalry, was well received; and, in the following year, +the author ventured on the publication of a second poem, in two books, +entitled "Eldred of Erin." In the latter composition, which is pervaded +by devotional sentiment, the poet details some of his personal +experiences. In 1834 he published, in a small duodecimo volume, "The +Exiles of Chamouni; a Drama," a production which received only a limited +circulation. About the same period, he became a contributor of verses to +the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. He ultimately undertook the editorial +superintendence of a religious periodical. + +Delicate in constitution, and of a highly nervous temperament, Sillery +found the study of medicine somewhat uncongenial, and had formed the +intention of qualifying himself for the Church. He calculated on early +ecclesiastical preferment through the favour of Her Majesty Queen +Adelaide, to whom he had been presented, and who had evinced some +interest on his behalf. But his prospects were soon clouded by the slow +but certain progress of an insidious malady. He was seized with +pulmonary consumption, and died at Edinburgh on the 16th May 1836, in +his twenty-ninth year. + +Of sprightly and winning manners, Sillery was much cherished in the +literary circles of the capital. He was of the ordinary height, and of +an extremely slender figure; and his eye, remarkably keen and piercing, +was singularly indicative of power. Poetry, in its every department, he +cherished with the devotion of an enthusiast; and though sufficiently +modest on the subject of his own poetical merits, he took delight in +singing his own songs. Interested in the history of the Middle Ages, he +had designed to publish an "Account of Ancient Chivalry." Latterly, his +views were more concentrated on the subject of religion. Shortly before +his death, he composed a "Discourse on the Sufferings of Christ," the +proof-sheets of which he corrected on his deathbed. As a poet, with more +advanced years, he would have obtained a distinguished place. With +occasional defects, the poem of "Vallery" is possessed of much boldness +of imagery, and force and elegance of expression. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[24] Captain Doyne Sillery was born in Drogheda, Ireland, of which place +his father was mayor during the Rebellion of 1798, and where he +possessed considerable property. He was descended from one of the most +ancient and illustrious families in France, of which the representative +took refuge in England during the infamous persecution of the +Protestants in the sixteenth century. On the reduction of priestly power +in Ireland by Cromwell, the family settled in that portion of the United +Kingdom. The family name was originally Brulart. Nicolas Brulart, +Marquis de Sillery, Lord de Pinsieux, de Marinis, and de Berny, acquired +much reputation from the many commissions in which he served in France. +(See "L'Histoire Généalogique et Chronologique des Chanceliers de +France," tom. vi. p. 524). On the maternal side Captain Sillery was +lineally descended from Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, the famous +chancellor. + + + + +SHE DIED IN BEAUTY. + + + She died in beauty! like a rose + Blown from its parent stem; + She died in beauty! like a pearl + Dropp'd from some diadem. + + She died in beauty! like a lay + Along a moonlit lake; + She died in beauty! like the song + Of birds amid the brake. + + She died in beauty! like the snow + On flowers dissolved away; + She died in beauty! like a star + Lost on the brow of day. + + She _lives_ in glory! like night's gems + Set round the silver moon; + She lives in glory! like the sun + Amid the blue of June! + + + + +THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS. + + + Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, + His pastures of perfume, and rose-cover'd dells; + While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain, + For brave is the chieftain your prowess who quells, + And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain, + That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming, + And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells, + And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming + On blue-bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue-bells. + + Awake! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather, + Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells-- + Come forth with your chorus, all chanting together-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + + + +ROBERT MILLER. + + +Robert Miller, the author of the two following songs, was a native of +Glasgow, and was educated for the legal profession. He contributed +verses to the periodicals, but did not venture on any separate +publication. He died at Glasgow, in September 1834, at the early age of +twenty-four. His "Lay of the Hopeless" was written within a few days of +his decease. + + + + +WHERE ARE THEY? + + + The loved of early days! + Where are they?--where? + Not on the shining braes, + The mountains bare;-- + Not where the regal streams + Their foam-bells cast-- + Where childhood's time of dreams + And sunshine pass'd. + + Some in the mart, and some + In stately halls, + With the ancestral gloom + Of ancient walls; + Some where the tempest sweeps + The desert waves; + Some where the myrtle weeps + On Roman graves. + + And pale young faces gleam + With solemn eyes; + Like a remember'd dream + The dead arise; + In the red track of war + The restless sweep; + In sunlit graves afar + The loved ones sleep. + + The braes are dight with flowers, + The mountain streams + Foam past me in the showers + Of sunny gleams; + But the light hearts that cast + A glory there, + In the rejoicing past, + Where are they?--where? + + + + +LAY OF THE HOPELESS. + + + Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now + O'er the restless and weary wave, + Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough + O'er the calm of my early grave-- + And my heart with its pulses of fire and life, + Oh! would it were still as stone. + I am weary, weary, of all the strife, + And the selfish world I 've known. + + I 've drunk up bliss from a mantling cup, + When youth and joy were mine; + But the cold black dregs are floating up, + Instead of the laughing wine; + And life hath lost its loveliness, + And youth hath spent its hour, + And pleasure palls like bitterness, + And hope hath not a flower. + + And love! was it not a glorious eye + That smiled on my early dream? + It is closed for aye, where the long weeds sigh, + In the churchyard by the stream: + And fame--oh! mine were gorgeous hopes + Of a flashing and young renown: + But early, early the flower-leaf drops + From the withering seed-cup down. + + And beauty! have I not worshipp'd all + Her shining creations well? + The rock--the wood--the waterfall, + Where light or where love might dwell. + But over all, and on my heart, + The mildew hath fallen sadly, + I have no spirit, I have no part + In the earth that smiles so gladly! + + I only sigh for a quiet bright spot + In the churchyard by the stream, + Whereon the morning sunbeams float, + And the stars at midnight dream; + Where only Nature's sounds may wake + The sacred and silent air, + And only her beautiful things may break + Through the long grass gathering there. + + + + +ALEXANDER HUME. + + +Alexander Hume was born at Kelso on the 1st of February 1809. His +father, Walter Hume, occupied a respectable position as a retail trader +in that town. Of the early history of our author little has been +ascertained. His first teacher was Mr Ballantyne of Kelso, a man +somewhat celebrated in his vocation. To his early preceptor's kindness +of heart, Hume frequently referred with tears. While under Mr +Ballantyne's scholastic superintendence, his love of nature first became +apparent. After school hours it was his delight to wander by the banks +of the Tweed, or reclining on its brink, to listen to the music of its +waters. From circumstances into which we need not inquire, his family +was induced to remove from Kelso to London. The position they occupied +we have not learned; but young Hume is remembered as being a quick, +intelligent, and most affectionate boy, eager, industrious, +self-reliant, and with an occasional dash of independence that made him +both feared and loved. He might have been persuaded to adopt almost any +view, but an attempt at coercion only excited a spirit of antagonism. To +use an old and familiar phrase, "he might break, but he would not bend." + +About this period (1822 or 1823), when irritated by those who had +authority over him, he suddenly disappeared from home, and allied +himself to a company of strolling players, with whom he associated for +several months. He had an exquisite natural voice, and sung the melting +melodies of Scotland in a manner seldom equalled. With the itinerant +manager he was a favourite, because he was fit for anything--tragedy, +comedy, farce, a hornpipe, and, if need be, a comic song, in which +making faces at the audience was an indispensable accomplishment. His +greatest hit, we are told, was in the absurdly extravagant song, "I am +such a Beautiful Boy;" when he used to say that in singing one verse, he +opened his mouth so wide that he had difficulty in closing it; but it +appears he had neither difficulty nor reluctance in closing his +engagement. Getting tired of his new profession, and disgusted with his +associates, poorly clad and badly fed, he slipped away when his +companions were fast asleep, and returned to London. Here, weary and +footsore, he presented himself to a relative, who received him kindly, +and placed him in a position where by industry he might provide for his +necessities. + +In 1827, he obtained a situation with Forbes & Co. of Mark Lane, the +highly respectable agents for Berwick & Co. of Edinburgh, the celebrated +brewers of Scotch ale. His position being one of considerable +responsibility, he was obliged to find security in the sum of Ł500, +which he obtained from the relative who had always stood his friend. But +such was his probity and general good conduct, that his employers +cancelled the security, and returned the bond as a mark of their +appreciation of his integrity and worth. + +About this period it was that he first gave utterance to his feelings in +verse. Impulsive and impassioned naturally, his first strong attachment +roused the deepest feelings of the man, and awoke the dormant passion of +the poet. The non-success of his first wooing only made his song the +more vehement for a while, but as no flame can burn intensely for ever, +his love became more subdued, and his song gradually assumed that +touching pathos which has ever characterised the best lyrics of +Scotland. + +Some time between the years 1830 and 1833, he became a member of the +Literary and Scientific Institution, Aldersgate Street, where he made +the acquaintance of many kindred spirits, young men of the same standing +as himself, chiefly occupied in the banks, offices, and warehouses of +the city of London. There they had classes established for the study of +history, for the discussion of philosophical and literary subjects, and +for the practice of elocution. The recitations of the several members +awoke the embers that smouldered in his heart from the time he had left +the stage. His early experience had made him acquainted with the manner +in which the voice ought to be modulated to make the utterance +effective; and although he seldom ventured to recite, he was always a +fair critic and a deeply interested auditor. The young ambition of a few +had led them to aspire to authorship, and they established a monthly +magazine. Although the several articles were not of the highest order, +they were, nevertheless, quite equal to the average periodical writings +of the day. In this magazine it is believed that Hume published his +first song. It had been sent in the ordinary way, signed _Daft Wattie_, +and the editor, not appreciating the northern dialect in which it was +written, had tossed it aside. Shortly afterwards, one of the managers on +turning over the rejected papers was attracted by the verses, read them, +and was charmed. He placed them back in the editor's box, certifying +them as fit for publication by writing across them, + + "Musical as is Apollo's lute," + +to which he signed his name, William Raine. This circumstance soon led +to an intimate acquaintance with Mr Raine, who was a man of considerable +original power, excellent education, and of a social and right manly +nature. This new acquaintance coloured the whole of Hume's future life. +They became fast friends, and were inseparable. The imagination of Hume +was restrained by the acute judgment and critical ability of Mr Raine. +When Hume published his first volume of "Songs," it would perhaps be +difficult to determine whether their great success and general +popularity resulted from the poet whose name they bore, or from the +friend who weighed and suggested corrections in almost every song, until +they finally came before the public in a collected form. The volume was +dedicated to Allan Cunningham, and in the preface he says: "I composed +them by no rules excepting those which my own observation and feelings +formed; I knew no other. As I thought and felt, so have I written. Of +all poetical compositions, songs, especially those of the affections, +should be natural, warm gushes of feeling--brief, simple, and condensed. +As soon as they have left the singer's lips, they should be fast around +the hearer's heart." + +In 1837, Hume married Miss Scott, a lady well calculated to attract the +eye and win the heart of a poet. He remained connected with the house of +Berwick & Co. until 1840, when, to recover his health, which had been +failing for some time, he was advised to visit America, where he +travelled for several months. On his return to England, he entered into +an engagement with the Messrs Lane of Cork, then the most eminent +brewers in the south of Ireland. To this work he devoted himself with +great energy, and was duly rewarded for his labour by almost immediate +success. The article he sold became exceedingly popular in the +metropolis; nor was he disappointed in the hope of realising +considerable pecuniary advantages. + +For several years he had written very little. The necessity to make +provision for a rapidly increasing family, and the ambition to take a +high position in the business he had chosen, occupied his every hour, +and became with him a passion as strong as had ever moved him in works +of the imagination. + +In 1847 there were slight indications of a return of the complaint from +which he had suffered in 1840, and he again crossed the Atlantic. +Although he returned considerably improved in health, he was by no means +well. Fortunately he had secured the services of a Mr Macdonald as an +assistant in his business, whose exertions in his interest were +unremitting. Mr Hume's health gradually declined, and ultimately +incapacitated him for the performance of any commercial duty. In May +1851 he died at Northampton, leaving a widow and six children. + +As a song writer, Hume is entitled to an honourable place among those +authors whose writings have been technically called "the Untutored Muse +of Scotland." His style is eminently graceful, and a deep and genuine +pathos pervades his compositions. We confidently predict that some of +his lyrics are destined to obtain a lasting popularity. In 1845, a +complete edition of his "Songs and Poems" was published at London in a +thin octavo volume. + + + + +MY WEE, WEE WIFE. + +AIR--_"The Boatie Rows."_ + + + My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, + My bonnie bairnies three; + Oh! happy is the husband's lot, + Wi' bairnies on his knee. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three; + How bright is day how sweet is life! + When love lights up the e'e. + + The king o'er me may wear a crown, + Have millions bow the knee, + But lacks he love to share his throne, + How poor a king is he! + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + Let kings ha'e thrones, 'mang warld's strife, + Your hearts are thrones to me. + + I 've felt oppression's galling chain, + I 've shed the tear o' care, + But feeling aye lost a' its pain, + When my wee wife was near. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + The chains we wear are sweet to bear, + How sad could we go free! + + + + +O POVERTY! + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + Eliza was a bonnie lass, and oh! she lo'ed me weel, + Sic love as canna find a tongue, but only hearts can feel; + But I was poor, her faither doure, he wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I went unto her mother, and I argued and I fleech'd, + I spak o' love and honesty, and mair and mair beseech'd; + But she was deaf to a' my grief, she wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I next went to her brother, and I painted a' my pain, + I told him o' our plighted troth, but it was a' in vain; + Though he was deep in love himsel', nae feeling he'd for me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + Oh! wealth it makes the fool a sage, the knave an honest man, + And canker'd gray locks young again, if he has gear and lan'; + To age maun beauty ope her arms, though wi' a tearfu' e'e; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + But wait a wee, oh! love is slee, and winna be said nay, + It breaks a' chains, except its ain, but it will ha'e its way; + In spite o' fate we took the gate, now happy as can be; + O poverty! O poverty! we're wed in spite o' thee. + + + + +NANNY. + +AIR--_"Fee him, Father."_ + + + There 's mony a flower beside the rose, + And sweets beside the honey; + But laws maun change ere life disclose + A flower or sweet like Nanny. + Her e'e is like the summer sun, + When clouds can no conceal it, + Ye 're blind if it ye look upon, + Oh! mad if ere ye feel it. + + I 've mony bonnie lassies seen, + Baith blithesome, kind, an' canny; + But oh! the day has never been + I 've seen another Nanny! + She 's like the mavis in her sang, + Amang the brakens bloomin', + Her lips ope to an angel's tongue, + But kiss her, oh! she's woman. + + + + +MY BESSIE. + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + My Bessie, oh! but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, + Oh! do they no remember ye o' mony happy hours, + When on this green and gentle hill we aften met to play, + An' ye were like the morning sun, an' life a nightless day? + + The gowans blossom'd bonnilie, I 'd pu' them from the stem, + An' rin in noisy blithesomeness to thee, my Bess, wi' them, + To place them in thy lily breast, for ae sweet smile on me, + I saw nae mair the gowans then, then saw I only thee. + + Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew, + An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you; + How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck, + An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak! + + We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays, + An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes; + But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet, + Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet. + + Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth, + In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth? + The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree, + Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me! + + + + +MENIE HAY. + +AIR--_"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."_ + + + A wee bird sits upon a spray, + And aye it sings o' Menie Hay, + The burthen o' its cheery lay + Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay! + Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + There 's not a bonnie flower in May + Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay." + + A light in yonder window 's seen, + And wi' it seen is Menie Hay; + Wha gazes on the dewy green, + Where sits the bird upon the spray? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + At sic a time, in sic a way, + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + + "What seek ye there, my daughter dear? + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + "Dear mother, but the stars sae clear + Around the bonnie Milky Way." + "Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + Ye something see ye daurna say, + Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!" + + The window 's shut, the light is gane, + And wi' it gane is Menie Hay; + But wha is seen upon the green, + Kissing sweetly Menie Hay? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + For ane sae young ye ken the way, + And far from blate, O Menie Hay!" + + "Gae scour the country, hill and dale; + Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay? + Search ilka nook, in town or vale, + For my daughter, Menie Hay." + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay, + O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay." + + + + +I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL. + + + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, + Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale; + But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me-- + The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee. + + The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom-- + The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom; + But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea, + Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand, + When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand; + The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free, + Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun, + I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone; + Ye smiled in look, but no in heart--your heart was no for me; + Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + + + +OH! YEARS HAE COME. + + + Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane, + Sin' first I sought the warld alane, + Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + But oh! behold the present gloom, + My early friends are in the tomb, + And nourish now the heather bloom + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + My father's name, my father's lot, + Is now a tale that 's heeded not, + Or sang unsung, if no forgot + On the hills o' Caledonia. + O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane-- + A' swept away, like snaw lang gane; + Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high, + The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by, + Like some sad heart maist grutten dry + On the hills o' Caledonia. + The wee birds sing no frae the tree, + The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea, + As if the kind things pitied me + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + But friends can live, though cold they lie, + An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh, + When we forget them, then they die + On the hills o' Caledonia. + An' howsoever changed the scene, + While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green, + Still green to my auld heart an' e'en + Are the hills o' Caledonia. + + + + +MY MOUNTAIN HAME. + +AIR--_"Gala Water."_ + + My mountain hame, my mountain hame! + My kind, my independent mother; + While thought and feeling rule my frame, + Can I forget the mountain heather? + Scotland dear! + + I love to hear your daughters dear + The simple tale in song revealing, + Whene'er your music greets my ear + My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling-- + Scotland dear! + + Though I to other lands may gae, + Should Fortune's smile attend me thither, + I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may, + And look again on the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + When I maun die, oh! I would lie + Where life and me first met together; + That my cauld clay, through its decay, + Might bloom again in the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + + + +THOMAS SMIBERT. + + +A poet and indefatigable prose-writer, Thomas Smibert was born in +Peebles on the 8th February 1810. Of his native town his father held for +a period the office of chief magistrate. With a view of qualifying +himself for the medical profession, he became apprentice to an +apothecary, and afterwards attended the literary and medical classes in +the University of Edinburgh. Obtaining licence as a surgeon, he +commenced practice in the village of Inverleithen, situated within six +miles of his native town. He was induced to adopt this sphere of +professional labour from an affection which he had formed for a young +lady in the vicinity, who, however, did not recompense his devotedness, +but accepted the hand of a more prosperous rival. Disappointed in love, +and with a practice scarcely yielding emolument sufficient to pay the +annual rent of his apothecary's store, he left Inverleithen after the +lapse of a year, and returned to Peebles. He now began to turn his +attention to literature, and was fortunate in procuring congenial +employment from the Messrs Chambers, as a contributor to their popular +_Journal_. Of this periodical he soon attained the position of +sub-editor; and in evidence of the indefatigable nature of his services +in this literary connexion, it is worthy of record that, during the +period intervening between 1837 and 1842, he contributed to the +_Journal_ no fewer than five hundred essays, one hundred tales, and +about fifty biographical sketches. Within the same period he edited a +new edition of Paley's "Natural Theology," with scientific notes, and +wrote extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, entitled +"Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the +sub-editorship of the _Scotsman_ newspaper. The bequest of a relative +afterwards enabled him to relinquish stated literary occupation, but he +continued to exhibit to the world pleasing evidences of his learning and +industry. He became a frequent contributor to _Hogg's Instructor_, an +Edinburgh weekly periodical; produced a work on "Greek History;" and +collated a "Rhyming Dictionary." A large, magnificently illustrated +volume, the "Clans of the Highlands of Scotland," was his most ambitious +and successful effort as a prose-writer. His poetical compositions, +which were scattered among a number of the periodicals, he was induced +to collect and publish in a volume, with the title, "Io Anche! Poems +chiefly Lyrical;" Edinburgh, 1851, 12mo. An historical play from his +pen, entitled "Condé's Wife," founded on the love of Henri Quatre for +Marguerite de Montmorency, whom the young Prince of Condé had wedded, +was produced in 1842 by Mr Murray in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, and +during a run of nine nights was received with applause. + +Smibert died at Edinburgh on the 16th January 1854, in his forty-fourth +year. With pleasing manners, he was possessed of kindly dispositions, +and was much cherished for his intelligent and interesting conversation. +In person he was strong built, and his complexion was fair and ruddy. He +was not undesirous of reputation both as a poet and prose-writer, and +has recorded his regret that he had devoted so much time to evanescent +periodical literature. His poetry is replete with patriotic sentiment, +and his strain is forcible and occasionally brilliant. His songs +indicate a fine fancy and deep pathos. + + + + +THE SCOTTISH WIDOW'S LAMENT. + + + Afore the Lammas tide + Had dun'd the birken-tree, + In a' our water side + Nae wife was bless'd like me. + A kind gudeman, and twa + Sweet bairns were 'round me here, + But they're a' ta'en awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Sair trouble cam' our gate, + And made me, when it cam', + A bird without a mate, + A ewe without a lamb. + Our hay was yet to maw, + And our corn was to shear, + When they a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I downa look a-field, + For aye I trow I see + The form that was a bield + To my wee bairns and me; + But wind, and weet, and snaw, + They never mair can fear, + Sin' they a' got the ca' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Aft on the hill at e'ens, + I see him 'mang the ferns-- + The lover o' my teens, + The faither o' my bairns; + For there his plaid I saw, + As gloamin' aye drew near, + But my a's now awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Our bonnie rigs theirsel', + Reca' my waes to mind; + Our puir dumb beasties tell + O' a' that I hae tyned; + For wha our wheat will saw, + And wha our sheep will shear, + Sin' my a' gaed awa' + In the fa' o' the year? + + My hearth is growing cauld, + And will be caulder still, + And sair, sair in the fauld + Will be the winter's chill; + For peats were yet to ca', + Our sheep they were to smear, + When my a' passed awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I ettle whiles to spin, + But wee, wee patterin' feet + Come rinnin' out and in, + And then I just maun greet; + I ken it 's fancy a', + And faster rows the tear, + That my a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Be kind, O Heaven abune! + To ane sae wae and lane, + And tak' her hamewards sune + In pity o' her maen. + Lang ere the March winds blaw, + May she, far far frae here, + Meet them a' that's awa + Sin' the fa' o' the year! + + + + +THE HERO OF ST JOHN D'ACRE.[25] + + + Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing + The banner of England is spread to the breeze, + And loud is the cheering that hails the uprearing + Of glory's loved emblem, the pride of the seas. + No tempest shall daunt her, + No victor-foe taunt her, + What manhood can do in her cause shall be done-- + Britannia's best seaman, + The boast of her freemen, + Will conquer or die by his colours and gun. + + On Acre's proud turrets an ensign is flying, + Which stout hearts are banded till death to uphold; + And bold is their crying, and fierce their defying, + When trench'd in their ramparts, unconquer'd of old. + But lo! in the offing, + To punish their scoffing, + Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done; + No danger can stay him, + No foeman dismay him, + He conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled, + Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone; + The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled, + And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John. + But Napier now tenders + To Acre's defenders + The aid of a friend when the combat is won; + For mercy's sweet blossom + Blooms fresh in his bosom, + Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + "All hail to the hero!" his country is calling, + And "hail to his comrades!" the faithful and brave, + They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling, + But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave. + And long may the ocean, + In calm and commotion, + Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won, + And when foes would wound us + May Napier be round us, + To conquer or die by their colours and gun! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[25] Admiral Sir Charles Napier. + + + + +OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES. + + + Oh! bonnie are the howes + And sunny are the knowes + That feed the kye and yowes + Where my life's morn dawn'd; + And brightly glance the rills + That spring amang the hills + And ca' the merry mills + In my ain dear land. + + But now I canna see + The lammies on the lea, + Nor hear the heather bee + On this far, far strand. + I see nae father's ha', + Nae burnie's waterfa', + But wander far awa' + Frae my ain dear land. + + My heart was free and light, + My ingle burning bright, + When ruin cam' by night + Through a foe's fell hand. + I left my native air, + I gaed to come nae mair; + And now I sorrow sair + For my ain dear land. + + But blithely will I bide + Whate'er may yet betide + When ane is by my side + On this far, far strand. + My Jean will soon be here + This waefu' heart to cheer, + And dry the fa'ing tear + For my ain dear land. + + + + +OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'. + + + Oh! say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + The dreaded hour that parts us twa + Of peace and hope will reave me. + + When you to distant shores are gane + How could I bear to tarry, + Where ilka tree and ilka stane + Would mind me o' my Mary? + + I couldna wander near yon woods + That saw us oft caressing, + And on our heads let fa' their buds + In earnest o' their blessing. + + Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd + Its half-o'erspreading heather, + And how we lo'ed the least the best + That made us creep thegither. + + I couldna bide, when you are gane, + My ain, my winsome dearie, + I couldna stay to pine my lane-- + I live but when I 'm near ye. + + Then say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + For ah! the hour that parts us twa + Of life itself will reave me. + + + + +JOHN BETHUNE. + + +The younger of two remarkable brothers, whose names are justly entitled +to remembrance, John Bethune, was born at the Mount, in the parish of +Monimail, Fifeshire, during the summer of 1810. The poverty of his +parents did not permit his attendance at a public school; he was taught +reading by his mother, and writing and arithmetic by his brother +Alexander,[26] who was considerably his senior. After some years' +employment as a cow-herd, he was necessitated, in his twelfth year, to +break stones on the turnpike-road. At the recommendation of a comrade, +he apprenticed himself, early in 1824, to a weaver in a neighbouring +village. In his new profession he rapidly acquired dexterity, so that, +at the end of one year, he could earn the respectable weekly wages of +fifteen shillings. Desirous of assisting his aged parents, he now +purchased a loom and settled as a weaver on his own account, with his +elder brother as his apprentice. A period of mercantile embarrassments +which followed, severely affecting the manufacturing classes, pressed +heavily on the subject of this notice; his earnings became reduced to +six shillings weekly, and he was obliged to exchange the labours of the +shuttle for those of the implements of husbandry. During the period of +his apprenticeship, his thoughts had been turned to poetical +composition, but it was subsequent to the commercial disasters of 1825 +that he began earnestly to direct his attention towards the concerns of +literature. Successive periods of bad health unfitting him for continued +labour in the fields, were improved by extensive reading and +composition. Before he had completed his nineteenth year he had produced +upwards of twenty poetical compositions, each of considerable length, +and the whole replete with power, both of sentiment and expression. Till +considerably afterwards, however, his literary productions were only +known to his brother Alexander, or at furthest to his parents. "Up to +the latter part of 1835," writes his brother in a biographical sketch, +"the whole of his writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had +been a crime punishable by law. There being but one apartment in the +house, it was his custom to write by the fire, with an old copy-book, +upon which his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through life, +was his only writing-desk. On the table, which was within reach, an old +newspaper was kept constantly lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any +one were heard approaching the door, copy-book, pens, and ink-stand +were thrust under this covering, and before the visitor came in, he had, +in general, a book in his hand, and appeared to have been reading." + +For a number of years Bethune had wrought as a day-labourer in the +grounds of Inchrye, in the vicinity of his birthplace. On the death of +the overseer on that property he was appointed his successor, entering +on the duties at the term of Martinmas 1835, his brother accompanying +him as his assistant. The appointment yielded Ł26 yearly, with the right +of a cow's pasturage--emoluments which considerably exceeded the average +of his previous earnings. To the duties of his new situation he applied +himself with his wonted industry, still continuing to dedicate only his +evenings and the intervals of toil to literary occupation. But his +comparative prosperity was of short duration. During the summer +following his appointment at Inchrye the estate changed owners, and the +new proprietor dispensed with his services at the next term. In another +year the landlord required the little cottage at Lochend, occupied by +his parents. Undaunted by these reverses, John Bethune and his brother +summoned stout courage; they erected a cottage at Mount Pleasant, near +Newburgh, the walls being mostly reared by their own hands. The future +career of Bethune was chiefly occupied in literary composition. He +became a contributor to the _Scottish Christian Herald_, _Wilson's Tales +of the Borders_, and other serial publications. In 1838 appeared "Tales +and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," the mutual production of the +poet and his brother--a work which, published in Edinburgh, was well +received. A work on "Practical Economy," on which the brothers had +bestowed much pains, and which had received the favourable opinion of +persons of literary eminence, was published in May 1839, but failed to +attract general interest. This unhappy result deeply affected the health +of the poet, whose constitution had already been much shattered by +repeated attacks of illness. He was seized with a complaint which proved +the harbinger of pulmonary consumption. He died at Mount Pleasant on the +1st September 1839, in his thirtieth year. + +With a more lengthened career, John Bethune would have attained a high +reputation, both as an interesting poet and an elegant prose-writer. His +genius was versatile and brilliant; of human nature, in all its +important aspects, he possessed an intuitive perception, and he was +practically familiar with the character and habits of the sons of +industry. His tales are touching and simple; his verses lofty and +contemplative. In sentiment eminently devotional, his life was a model +of genuine piety. His Poems, prefaced by an interesting Memoir, were +published by his surviving brother in 1840; and from the profits of a +second edition, published in the following year, a monument has been +erected over his grave in the churchyard of Abdie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[26] Alexander Bethune, the elder brother of the poet, and his constant +companion and coadjutor in literary work, was born at Upper Rankeillor, +in the parish of Monimail, in July 1804. His education was limited to a +few months' attendance at a subscription school in his sixth year, with +occasional lessons from his parents. Like his younger brother, he +followed the occupation of a labourer, frequently working in the quarry +or breaking stones on the public road. Early contracting a taste for +literature, his leisure hours were devoted to reading and composition. +In 1835, several of his productions appeared in _Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal_. "Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," a volume by +the brothers, of which the greater portion was written by Alexander, was +published in 1838; their joint-treatise on "Practical Economy" in the +year following. In 1843, Alexander published a small volume of tales, +entitled "The Scottish Peasant's Fireside," which was favourably +received. During the same year he was offered the editorship of the +_Dumfries Standard_ newspaper, with a salary of Ł100 a-year, but he was +unable to accept the appointment from impaired health. He died at Mount +Pleasant, near Newburgh, on the 13th June 1843, and his remains were +interred in his brother's grave in Abdie churchyard. An interesting +volume of his Memoirs, "embracing Selections from his Correspondence and +Literary Memoirs," was published in 1845 by Mr William M'Combie. + + + + +WITHER'D FLOWERS. + + + Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets! + Your day of glory's past; + But your latest smile was loveliest, + For we knew it was your last. + No more the sweet aroma + Of your golden cups shall rise, + To scent the morning's stilly breath, + Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs. + + Ye were the sweetest offerings + Which Friendship could bestow-- + A token of devoted love + In pleasure or in woe! + Ye graced the head of infancy, + By soft affection twined + Into a fairy coronal + Its sunny brows to bind. + + * * * * * + + But ah! a dreary blast hath blown + Athwart you in your bloom, + And, pale and sickly, now your leaves + The hues of death assume. + We mourn your vanish'd loveliness, + Ye sweet departed flowers; + For ah! the fate which blighted you + An emblem is of ours. + + * * * * * + And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth, + We wither and depart, + And leave behind, to mourn our loss, + Full many an aching heart; + Yet when the winter of the grave + Is past, we hope to rise, + Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness, + To blossom in the skies. + + + + +A SPRING SONG. + + + There is a concert in the trees, + There is a concert on the hill, + There 's melody in every breeze, + And music in the murmuring rill. + The shower is past, the winds are still, + The fields are green, the flow'rets spring, + The birds, and bees, and beetles fill + The air with harmony, and fling + The rosied moisture of the leaves + In frolic flight from wing to wing, + Fretting the spider as he weaves + His airy web from bough to bough; + In vain the little artist grieves + Their joy in his destruction now. + + Alas! that, in a scene so fair, + The meanest being e'er should feel + The gloomy shadow of despair + Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal. + But in a world where woe is real, + Each rank in life, and every day, + Must pain and suffering reveal, + And wretched mourners in decay-- + When nations smile o'er battles won, + When banners wave and streamers play, + The lonely mother mourns her son + Left lifeless on the bloody clay; + And the poor widow, all undone, + Sees the wild revel with dismay. + + Even in the happiest scenes of earth, + When swell'd the bridal-song on high, + When every voice was tuned to mirth, + And joy was shot from eye to eye, + I 've heard a sadly-stifled sigh; + And, 'mid the garlands rich and fair, + I 've seen a cheek, which once could vie + In beauty with the fairest there, + Grown deadly pale, although a smile + Was worn above to cloak despair. + Poor maid! it was a hapless wile + Of long-conceal'd and hopeless love + To hide a heart, which broke the while + With pangs no lighter heart could prove. + + The joyous spring and summer gay + With perfumed gifts together meet, + And from the rosy lips of May + Breathe music soft and odours sweet; + And still my eyes delay my feet + To gaze upon the earth and heaven, + And hear the happy birds repeat + Their anthems to the coming even; + Yet is my pleasure incomplete; + I grieve to think how few are given + To feel the pleasures I possess, + While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven, + Must pine in utter loneliness, + Or be to desperation driven. + + Oh! could we find some happy land, + Some Eden of the deep blue sea, + By gentle breezes only fann'd, + Upon whose soil, from sorrow free, + Grew only pure felicity! + Who would not brave the stormiest main + Within that blissful isle to be, + Exempt from sight or sense of pain? + There is a land we cannot see, + Whose joys no pen can e'er portray; + And yet, so narrow is the road, + From it our spirits ever stray-- + Shed light upon that path, O God! + And lead us in the appointed way. + + There only joy shall be complete, + More high than mortal thoughts can reach, + For there the just and good shall meet, + Pure in affection, thought, and speech; + No jealousy shall make a breach, + Nor pain their pleasure e'er alloy; + There sunny streams of gladness stretch, + And there the very air is joy. + There shall the faithful, who relied + On faithless love till life would cloy, + And those who sorrow'd till they died + O'er earthly pain and earthly woe, + See Pleasure, like a whelming tide, + From an unbounded ocean flow. + + + + +ALLAN STEWART. + + +Allan Stewart, a short-lived poet of no inconsiderable merit, was born +in the village of Houston, Renfrewshire, on the 30th January 1812. His +father prosecuted the humble vocation of a sawyer. Deprived of his +mother in early life, the loss was in some degree repaired by the kind +attentions of his maternal aunt, Martha Muir, whose letters on religious +subjects have been published. Receiving an ordinary education at school, +he followed the trade of a weaver in Paisley. His leisure hours were +employed in reading, and in the composition of verses. He died of typhus +fever, at Paisley, on the 12th November 1837, in his twenty-sixth year. +His "Poetical Remains" were published in 1838, in a thin duodecimo +volume, with a well-written biographical sketch from the pen of his +friend, Mr Charles Fleming. + +Stewart was a person of modest demeanour, and of a thoughtful and +somewhat melancholy cast. His verses are generally of a superior order; +his songs abound in sweetness of expression and elegance of sentiment. + + + + +THE SEA-BOY. + +AIR--_"The Soldier's Tear."_ + + + The storm grew faint as daylight tinged + The lofty billows' crest; + And love-lit hopes, with fears yet fringed, + Danced in the sea-boy's breast. + And perch'd aloft, he cheer'ly sung + To the billows' less'ning roar-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + And O what joy beam'd in his eye, + When, o'er the dusky foam, + He saw, beneath the northern sky, + The hills that mark'd his home! + His heart with double ardour strung, + He sung this ditty o'er-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + Now towers and trees rise on his sight, + And many a dear-loved spot; + And, smiling o'er the blue waves bright, + He saw young Ellen's cot. + The scenes on which his memory hung + A cheerful aspect wore; + He then, with joyous feeling, sung, + "I 'll see her yet once more!" + + The land they near'd, and on the beach + Stood many a female form; + But ah! his eye it could not reach + His hope in many a storm. + He through the spray impatient sprung, + And gain'd the wish'd-for shore; + But Ellen, so fair, so sweet, and young, + Was gone for evermore! + + + + +MENIE LORN. + + + While beaus and belles parade the streets + On summer gloamings gay, + And barter'd smiles and borrow'd sweets, + And all such vain display; + My walks are where the bean-field's breath + On evening's breeze is borne, + With her, the angel of my heart-- + My lovely Menie Lorn. + + Love's ambuscades her auburn hair, + Love's throne her azure eye, + Where peerless charms and virtues rare + In blended beauty lie. + The rose is fair at break of day, + And sweet the blushing thorn, + But sweeter, fairer far than they, + The smile of Menie Lorn. + + O tell me not of olive groves, + Where gold and gems abound; + Of deep blue eyes and maiden loves, + With every virtue crown'd. + I ask no other ray of joy + Life's desert to adorn, + Than that sweet bliss, which ne'er can cloy-- + The love of Menie Lorn. + + + + +THE YOUNG SOLDIER. + +AIR--_"The Banks of the Devon."_ + + + O say not o' war the young soldier is weary, + Ye wha in battle ha'e witness'd his flame; + Remember his daring when danger was near ye, + Forgive ye the sigh that he heaves for his hame. + Past perils he heeds not, nor dangers yet coming, + Frae dark-brooding terror his young heart is free; + But it pants for the place whar in youth he was roaming; + He turns to the north wi' the tear in his e'e. + + 'Tis remembrance that saftens what war never daunted, + 'Tis the hame o' his birth that gives birth to the tear; + The warm fondled hopes his first love had implanted, + He langs now to reap in his Jeanie sae dear. + An' aften he thinks on the bonnie clear burnie, + Whar oft in love's fondness they daff'd their young day; + Nae tear then was shedded, for short was the journey + 'Tween Jeanie's broom bower and the blaeberry brae. + + An' weel does he mind o' that morning, when dressing, + In green Highland garb, to cross the wide sea; + His auld mither grat when she gi'ed him her blessing-- + 'Twas a' that the puir body then had to gi'e. + The black downy plume on his bonnie cheek babbit, + As he stood at the door an' shook hands wi' them a'; + But sair was his heart, an' sair Jeanie sabbit, + Whan down the burn-side she convoy'd him awa'. + + Now high-headed Alps an' dark seas divide them, + Wilds ne'er imagined in love's early dream; + Their Alps then the knowes, whare the lambs lay beside them, + Their seas then the hazel an' saugh-shaded stream. + An' wha couldna sigh when memory 's revealing + The scenes that surrounded our life's early hame? + The hero whose heart is cauld to that feeling + His nature is harsh, and not worthy the name. + + + + +THE LAND I LOVE. + + + The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, + Is the land of the plaid and bonnet blue, + Of the gallant heart, the firm and true, + The land of the hardy thistle. + + Isle of the freeborn, honour'd and blest, + Isle of beauty, in innocence dress'd, + The loveliest star on ocean's breast + Is the land of the hardy thistle. + + Fair are those isles of Indian bloom, + Whose flowers perpetual breathe perfume; + But dearer far are the braes o' broom + Where blooms the hardy thistle. + + No luscious fig-tree blossoms there, + No slaves the scented shrubb'ry rear; + Her sons are free as the mountain air + That shakes the hardy thistle. + + Lovely 's the tint o' an eastern sky, + And lovely the lands that 'neath it lie; + But I wish to live, and I wish to die + In the land of the hardy thistle! + + + + +ROBERT L. MALONE. + + +Robert L. Malone was a native of Anstruther, in Fife, where he was born +in 1812. His father was a captain in the navy, and afterwards was +employed in the Coast Guard. He ultimately settled at Rothesay, in Bute. +Receiving a common school education, Robert entered the navy in his +fourteenth year. He served on board the gun-brig _Marshall_, which +attended the Fisheries department in the west; next in the Mediterranean +ocean; and latterly in South America. Compelled, from impaired health, +to renounce the seafaring life, after a service of ten years, he +returned to his family at Rothesay, but afterwards settled in the town +of Greenock. In 1845, he became a clerk in the Long-room of the Customs +at Greenock, an appointment which he retained till nigh the period of +his death. A lover of poetry from his youth, he solaced the hours of +sickness by the composition of verses. He published, in 1845, a +duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled, "The Sailor's Dream, and other +Poems," a work which was well received. His death took place at Greenock +on the 6th of July 1850, in his thirty-eighth year. Of modest and +retiring dispositions, Malone was unambitious of distinction as a poet. +His style is bold and animated, and some of his pieces evince +considerable power. + + + + +THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Humours o' Glen."_ + + + Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, + And green be thy emblem, thou gem of the sea, + The greenest, the sweetest, the fairest of flowers, + Is the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + Far lovelier flowers glow, the woodlands adorning, + And breathing perfume over moorland and lea, + But there breathes not a bud on the freshness of morning + Like the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + What scenes o' langsyne even thy name can awaken, + Thou badge of the fearless, the fair, and the free, + And the tenderest chords of the spirit are shaken; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for thee! + + Still'd be my harp, and forgotten its numbers, + And cold as the grave my affections must be, + Ere thy name fail to waken my soul from her slumbers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + On the fields of their fame, while proud laurels she gathers, + Caledonia plants, wi' the tear in her e'e, + Thy soft downy seeds on the graves of our fathers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + + + +HAME IS AYE HAMELY. + +AIR--_"Love's Young Dream."_ + + + Oh! hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, + An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Though ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + There 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + There 's gowd in gowpens got, they say, on India's sunny strand, + Then wha would bear to linger here in this bleak, barren land? + I 'll hie me ower the heaving wave, and win myself a name, + And in a palace or a grave forget my Hieland hame. + + 'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream, + And Fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream; + His good sword won him wealth and power and long and loud acclaim, + But could not banish from his thoughts his dear-loved mountain hame. + + No! The peasant's heart within the peer beat true to nature still, + For on his vision oft would rise the cottage on the hill; + And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game, + As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame. + + Oh! in the Brahmin, mild and gray, his father's face he saw; + He thought upon his mother's tears the day he gaed awa'; + And her he loved--his Hieland girl--there 's magic in the name-- + They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame. + + He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands, + And where his father's cottage stood a stately palace stands; + And with his grandchild on his knee--the old man's heart on flame-- + 'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts of hame. + + Oh! hame is aye hamely, dear, though poor at times it be, + Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + But there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + + + +PETER STILL. + + +Peter Still was born in the parish of Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, on the +1st day of January 1814. At the time of his birth his father rented a +farm, but, being unfortunate, he was compelled to seek the support of +his family by manual labour. With a limited education at the +parish-school of Longside, whither his parents had removed, the subject +of this memoir was sent, in his eleventh year, to tend cattle. When +somewhat older, he found employment as a farm-servant; but having +married in his twentieth year, he afterwards followed the more +precarious occupation of a day-labourer. Of a delicate constitution, he +suffered much from impaired health, being frequently, for months +together, confined to the sick-chamber. During the periods of +convalescence from illness, he composed verses, which he gave to the +world in three separate publications. His last work--"The Cottar's +Sunday, and other Poems"--appeared in 1845, in a handsome duodecimo +volume. He closed a life of much privation and suffering at Peterhead, +on the 21st March 1848. + +Of sound religious principles and devoted Christian feeling, Still +meekly submitted to the bitterness of his lot in life. He was fortunate +in arresting the attention of some, who occasionally administered to his +wants, and contributed, by their patronage, to the increase of his +reputation. His verses are largely pervaded with poetical fervour and +religious sentiment, while his songs are generally true to nature. In +person he was tall and slender, of a long thin countenance, large dark +blue eyes, and curling black hair. + + + + +JEANIE'S LAMENT. + +AIR--_"Lord Gregory."_ + + + I never thocht to thole the waes + It 's been my lot to dree; + I never thocht to sigh sae sad + Whan first I sigh'd for thee. + I thocht your heart was like mine ain, + As true as true could be; + I couldna think there was a stain + In ane sae dear to me. + + Whan first amang the dewy flowers, + Aside yon siller stream, + My lowin' heart was press'd to yours, + Nae purer did they seem; + Nae purer seem'd the draps o' dew, + The flowers on whilk they hung, + Than seem'd the heart I felt in you + As to that heart I clung. + + But I was young an' thochtless then, + An' easy to beguile; + My mither's warnin's had nae weight + 'Bout man's deceitfu' smile. + But noo, alas! whan she is dead, + I 've shed the sad, saut tear, + And hung my heavy, heavy head + Aboon my father's bier! + + They saw their earthly hope betray'd, + They saw their Jeanie fade; + They couldna thole the heavy stroke, + An' baith are lowly laid! + Oh, Jamie! but thy name again + Shall ne'er be breathed by me, + For, speechless through yon gow'ny glen, + I 'll wander till I die. + + + + +YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME. + +AIR--_"John Todd."_ + + + "Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me; + Ye 're threescore an' three, an' ye 're blin' o' an e'e, + Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me. + + "Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man, + Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be; + Ye 're auld an' ye 're cauld, an' ye 're blin' an' ye 're bald, + An' ye 're nae for a lassie like me, auld man, + Ye 're nae for a lassie like me." + + "Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass, + Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee; + I 've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd, + An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, + A heart that lo'es nane but thee. + + "I 'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass, + I 'll busk you as braw as a queen; + I 've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what 's mair, + I 'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass, + Only twa score an' fifteen." + + "Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man, + Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear; + There 's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain, + An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man, + To me he shall ever be dear. + + "Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair, auld man, + Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair; + There 's a something in love that your gowd canna move-- + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare, auld man, + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare." + + + + +THE BUCKET FOR ME. + + + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + Awa' wi' your bickers o' barley bree; + Though good ye may think it, I 'll never mair drink it-- + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + There 's health in the bucket, there 's wealth in the bucket, + There 's mair i' the bucket than mony can see; + An' aye whan I leuk in 't, I find there 's a beuk in 't + That teaches the essence o' wisdom to me. + + Whan whisky I swiggit, my wifie aye beggit, + An' aft did she sit wi' the tear in her e'e; + But noo--wad you think it?--whan water I drink it + Right blithesome she smiles on the bucket an' me. + The bucket 's a treasure nae mortal can measure, + It 's happit my wee bits o' bairnies an' me; + An' noo roun' my ingle, whare sorrows did mingle, + I 've pleasure, an' plenty, an' glances o' glee. + + The bucket 's the bicker that keeps a man sicker, + The bucket 's a shield an' a buckler to me; + In pool or in gutter nae langer I 'll splutter, + But walk like a freeman wha feels he is free. + + Ye drunkards, be wise noo, an' alter your choice noo-- + Come cling to the bucket, an' prosper like me; + Ye 'll find it is better to swig "caller water," + Than groan in a gutter without a bawbee! + + + + +ROBERT NICOLL. + + +One of the most gifted and hopeful of modern Scottish song writers, +Robert Nicoll, was born at Little Tulliebeltane, in the parish of +Auchtergaven, Perthshire, on the 7th January 1814. Of a family of nine +children, he was the second son. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, rented a farm at the period of his birth and for five years +afterwards, when, involved in an affair of cautionary, he was reduced to +the condition of an agricultural labourer. Young Nicoll received the +rudiments of his education from his mother, a woman of superior +shrewdness and information; subsequently to his seventh year he tended +cattle in the summer months, to procure the means of attending the +parish school during the other portion of the year. From his childhood +fond of reading, books were his constant companions--in the field, on +the highway, and during the intervals of leisure in his father's +cottage. In his thirteenth year, he wrote verses and became the +correspondent of a newspaper. Apprenticed to a grocer and wine-merchant +in Perth, and occupied in business from seven o'clock morning till nine +o'clock evening, he prosecuted mental culture by abridging the usual +hours of rest. At the age of nineteen he communicated a tale to +_Johnstone's Magazine_, an Edinburgh periodical, which was inserted, and +attracted towards him the notice of Mr Johnstone, the ingenious +proprietor. By this gentleman he was introduced, during a visit he made +to the capital, to some men of letters, who subsequently evinced a warm +interest in his career. + +In 1834, Nicoll opened a small circulating library in Dundee, occupying +his spare time in reading and composition, and likewise taking part in +public meetings convened for the support of Radical or extreme liberal +opinions. To the liberal journals of the town he became a frequent +contributor both in prose and verse, and in 1835 appeared as the author +of a volume of "Poems and Lyrics." This publication was highly esteemed +by his friends, and most favourably received by the press. Abandoning +business in Dundee, which had never been prosperous, he meditated +proceeding as a literary adventurer to London, but was induced by Mr +Tait, his friendly publisher, and some other well-wishers, to remain in +Edinburgh till a suitable opening should occur. In the summer of 1836 he +was appointed editor of the _Leeds Times_ newspaper, with a salary of +Ł100. The politics of this journal were Radical, and to the exposition +and advocacy of these opinions he devoted himself with equal ardour and +success. But the unremitting labour of conducting a public journal soon +began materially to undermine the energies of a constitution which, +never robust, had been already impaired by a course of untiring literary +occupation. The excitement of a political contest at Leeds, during a +general parliamentary election, completed the physical prostration of +the poet; he removed from Leeds to Knaresborough, and from thence to +Laverock Bank, near Edinburgh, the residence of his friend Mr Johnstone. +His case was hopeless; after lingering a short period in a state of +entire prostration, he departed this life in December 1837, in his +twenty-fourth year. His remains, attended by a numerous assemblage, were +consigned to the churchyard of North Leith. + +Possessed of strong poetical genius, Robert Nicoll has attained a +conspicuous and honoured niche in the temple of the national minstrelsy. +Several of his songs, especially "Bonnie Bessie Lee" and "Ordé Braes," +have obtained an equal popularity with the best songs of Burns. Since +the period of his death, four different editions of his "Poems" have +been called for. The work has latterly been published by the Messrs +Blackie of Glasgow in a handsome form, prefaced by an interesting +memoir. Nicoll's strain is eminently smooth and simple; and, though many +of his lyrics published after his decease had not the benefit of his +revision, he never falls into mediocrity. Of extensive sympathies, he +portrays the loves, hopes, and fears of the human heart; while he +depicts nature only in her loveliness. His sentiments breathe a devoted +and simple piety, the index of an unblemished life. In person Nicoll was +rather above the middle height, with a slight stoop. His countenance, +which was of a sanguine complexion, was thoughtful and pleasing; his +eyes were of a deep blue, and his hair dark brown. In society he was +modest and unobtrusive, but was firm and uncompromising in the +maintenance of his opinions. His political views were founded on the +belief that the industrial classes had suffered oppression from the +aristocracy. The solace of his hours of leisure were the songs and music +of his country. He married shortly prior to his decease, but was not +long survived by his widow. A monument to his memory, towards which +nearly Ł100 has lately been subscribed, is about to be erected on the +Ordé Braes, in his native parish. + + + + +ORDÉ BRAES. + + + There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, + Nae ither spot sae fair; + Nae ither faces look sae kind + As the smilin' faces there. + An' I ha'e sat by mony streams, + Ha'e travell'd mony ways; + But the fairest spot on the earth to me + Is on bonnie Ordé Braes. + + An ell-lang wee thing then I ran + Wi' the ither neeber bairns, + To pu' the hazel's shining nuts, + An' to wander 'mang the ferns; + An' to feast on the bramble-berries brown, + An' gather the glossy slaes, + By the burnie's side, an' aye sinsyne + I ha'e loved sweet Ordé Braes. + + The memories o' my father's hame, + An' its kindly dwellers a', + O' the friends I loved wi' a young heart's love + Ere care that heart could thraw, + Are twined wi' the stanes o' the silver burn, + An' its fairy crooks an' bays, + That onward sang 'neath the gowden broom + Upon bonnie Ordé Braes. + + Aince in a day there were happy hames + By the bonnie Ordé's side: + Nane ken how meikle peace an' love + In a straw-roof'd cot can bide. + But thae hames are gane, an' the hand o' time + The roofless wa's doth raze; + Laneness an' sweetness hand in hand + Gang ower the Ordé Braes. + + Oh! an' the sun were shinin' now, + An', oh! an' I were there, + Wi' twa three friends o' auld langsyne, + My wanderin' joy to share. + For though on the hearth o' my bairnhood's hame + The flock o' the hills doth graze, + Some kind hearts live to love me yet + Upon bonnie Ordé Braes. + + + + +THE MUIR O' GORSE AND BROOM. + + + I winna bide in your castle ha's, + Nor yet in your lofty towers; + My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame, + An' sick o' your darksome bowers; + An' oh! I wish I were far awa' + Frae their grandeur an' their gloom, + Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale, + That blaws fu' kindly there, + An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell + That wave on the muirland bare; + An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees, + An' the little lochs that toom + Their gushing burns to the distant sea + O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Oh! if I had a dwallin' there, + Biggit laigh by a burnie's side, + Where ae aik tree, in the summer time, + Wi' its leaves that hame might hide; + Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day, + As blithe as a young bridegroom; + For dearer than palaces to me + Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom! + + In a lanely cot on a muirland wild, + My mither nurtured me; + O' the meek wild-flowers I playmates made, + An' my hame wi' the wandering bee. + An', oh! if I were far awa' + Frae your grandeur an' your gloom, + Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale, + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + + + +THE BONNIE HIELAND HILLS. + + + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms, + Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes; + But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills + As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair; + But o' riches or beauty we mak na our care; + Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills + Our hearts to the burstin'--our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are, + Though born in the midst o' the elements' war; + O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills, + As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand, + To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand; + A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills, + That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills; + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + + + +THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH. + + + The bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen, + Where the burnie clear doth gush + In yon lane glen; + My head is white and auld, + An' my bluid is thin an' cauld; + But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + My Jeanie first I met + In yon lane glen, + When the grass wi' dew was wet + In yon lane glen; + The moon was shining sweet, + An' our hearts wi' love did beat, + By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Oh! she promised to be mine, + In yon lane glen; + Her heart she did resign, + In yon lane glen; + An' mony a happy day + Did o'er us pass away, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Sax bonnie bairns had we + In yon lane glen-- + Lads an' lassies young an' spree, + In yon lane glen; + An' a blither family + Than ours there cou'dna be, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Now my auld wife's gane awa' + Frae yon lane glen, + An' though summer sweet doth fa' + On yon lane glen-- + To me its beauty's gane, + For, alake! I sit alane + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + + + +BONNIE BESSIE LEE. + + + Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, + And mirth round her ripe lip was aye dancing slee; + And light was the footfa', and winsome the wiles, + O' the flower o' the parochin, our ain Bessie Lee! + Wi' the bairns she would rin, and the school laddies paik, + And o'er the broomy braes like a fairy would flee, + Till auld hearts grew young again wi' love for her sake-- + There was life in the blithe blink o' bonnie Bessie Lee! + + She grat wi' the waefu', and laughed wi' the glad, + And light as the wind 'mang the dancers was she; + And a tongue that could jeer, too, the little limmer had, + Whilk keepit aye her ain side for bonnie Bessie Lee! + She could sing like the lintwhite that sports 'mang the whins, + An' sweet was her note as the bloom to the bee-- + It has aft thrilled my heart whaur our wee burnie rins, + Where a' thing grew fairer wi' bonnie Bessie Lee.[27] + + And she whiles had a sweetheart, and sometimes had twa, + A limmer o' a lassie; but atween you and me, + Her warm wee bit heartie she ne'er threw awa', + Though mony a ane had sought it frae bonnie Bessie Lee. + But ten years had gane since I gazed on her last-- + For ten years had parted my auld hame and me-- + And I said to mysel', as her mither's door I passed, + Will I ever get anither kiss frae bonnie Bessie Lee? + + But Time changes a' thing--the ill-natured loon! + Were it ever sae rightly, he 'll no let it be; + And I rubbit at my e'en, and I thought I would swoon, + How the carle had come roun' about our ain Bessie Lee! + The wee laughing lassie was a gudewife grown auld, + Twa weans at her apron, and ane on her knee, + She was douce too, and wise-like--and wisdom's sae cauld; + I would rather hae the ither ane than this Bessie Lee. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[27] The last four lines of this stanza are not the production of +Nicoll, but have been contributed for the present work by Mr Alexander +Wilson, of Perth. The insertion of the lines prevents the occurrence of +a half stanza, which has hitherto interfered with the singing of this +popular song. + + + + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING. + + +Archibald Stirling Irving was born in Edinburgh on the 18th of December +1816. His father, John Irving, Writer to the Signet, was the intimate +early friend of Sir Walter Scott, and is "the prosperous gentleman" +referred to in the general Introduction to the Waverley Novels. Having a +delicate constitution, young Irving was unable to follow any regular +profession, but devoted himself, when health permitted, to the concerns +of literature. He made himself abundantly familiar with the Latin +classics, and became intimately conversant with the more distinguished +British poets. Possessed of a remarkably retentive memory, he could +repeat some of the longest poems in the language. Receiving a handsome +annuity from his father, he resided in various of the more interesting +localities of Scottish scenery, some of which he celebrated in verse. He +published anonymously, in 1841, a small volume of "Original Songs," of +which the song selected for the present work may be regarded as a +favourable specimen. He died at Newmills, near Ardrossan, on the 20th +September 1851, in his thirty-fifth year. Some time before his death, he +exclusively devoted himself to serious reflection and Scriptural +reading. He married in October 1850, and his widow still survives. + + + + +THE WILD-ROSE BLOOMS. + +TUNE--_"Caledonia."_ + + + The wild-rose blooms in Drummond woods, + The trees are blossom'd fair, + The lake is smiling to the sun, + And Mary wand'ring there. + The powers that watch'd o'er Mary's birth + Did nature's charms despoil; + They stole for her the rose's blush, + The sweet lake's dimpled smile. + + The lily for her breast they took, + Nut-brown her locks appear; + But when they came to make her eyes, + They robb'd the starry sphere. + But cruel sure was their design, + Or mad-like their device-- + For while they filled her eyes with fire, + They made her heart of ice. + + + + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE.[28] + + +Alexander Abernethy Ritchie, author of "The Wells o' Wearie," was born +in the Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1816. In early youth he evinced a lively +appreciation of the humorous and the pathetic, and exhibited remarkable +artistic talent, sketching from nature with fidelity and ease. His +parents being in humble circumstances, he was apprenticed as a +house-painter, and soon became distinguished for his skill in the +decorative branch of his profession. On the expiry of his +apprenticeship, he cultivated painting in a higher department of the +art, and his pictures held a highly respectable place at the annual +exhibitions of the Scottish Academy. Among his pictures which became +favourites may be mentioned the "Wee Raggit Laddie," "The Old Church +Road," "The Gaberlunzie," "Tak' your Auld Cloak about ye," and "The +Captive Truant." His illustrations of his friend, Mr James Ballantine's +works, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet" and "The Miller of Deanhaugh," and of +some other popular works, evince a lively fancy and keen appreciation of +character. He executed a number of water-colour sketches of the more +picturesque and interesting lanes and alleys of Edinburgh; and +contributed to the _Illustrated London News_ representations of +remarkable events as they occurred in the Scottish capital. He died +suddenly at St John's Hill, Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1850, in the +thirty-fourth year of his age. Ritchie was possessed of a vast fund of +humour, and was especially esteemed for the simplicity of his manners +and his kindly dispositions. He excelled in reading poetry, whether +dramatic or descriptive, and sung his own songs with intense feeling. He +lived with his aged mother, whom he regarded with dutiful affection, and +who survives to lament his loss. Shortly before his death he composed +the following hymn, which has been set to appropriate music:-- + + Father of blissfulness, + Grant me a resting-place + Now my sad spirit is longing for rest. + Lord, I beseech Thee, + Deign Thou to teach me + Which path to heaven is surest and best: + Lonely and dreary, + Laden and weary, + Oh! for a home in the land of the blest! + + Father of holiness, + Look on my lowliness; + From this sad bondage, O Lord, set me free; + Grant that, 'mid love and peace, + Sorrow and sin may cease, + While in the Saviour my trust it shall be. + When Death's sleep comes o'er me, + On waking--before me + The portals of glory all open I 'll see. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[28] We are indebted to Mr James Ballantine, of Edinburgh, for the +particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +THE WELLS O' WEARIE. + +AIR--_"Bonnie House o' Airlie."_ + + + Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, + And mak's her look young and cheerie; + Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve, + There 's nought in the world to fear ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + Oh, the sun winna blink in thy bonnie blue e'en, + Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie, + For I 'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green + By the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + But, Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower + At your form in the water sae clearly, + Or the fairy will change you into a wee, wee flower, + And you 'll grow by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Yestreen as I wander'd there a' alane, + I felt unco douf and drearie, + For wanting my Mary, a' around me was but pain + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + Let fortune or fame their minions deceive, + Let fate look gruesome and eerie; + True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve, + When we meet by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Then gang wi' me, my bonnie Mary Grieve, + Nae danger will daur to come near ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave, + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + + + +ALEXANDER LAING. + + +One of the simplest and most popular of the living national +song-writers, Alexander Laing, was born at Brechin on the 14th May 1787. +His father, James Laing, was an agricultural labourer. With the +exception of two winters' schooling, he was wholly self-taught. Sent to +tend cattle so early as his eighth year, he regularly carried books and +writing-materials with him to the fields. His books were procured by the +careful accumulation of the halfpence bestowed on him by the admirers of +his juvenile tastes. In his sixteenth year, he entered on the business +of a flax-dresser, in his native town--an occupation in which he was +employed for a period of fourteen years. He afterwards engaged in +mercantile concerns, and has latterly retired from business. He now +resides at Upper Tenements, Brechin, in the enjoyment of a well-earned +competency. + +Mr Laing early wrote verses. In 1819, several songs from his pen +appeared in the "Harp of Caledonia"--a respectable collection of +minstrelsy, edited by John Struthers. He subsequently became a +contributor to the "Harp of Renfrewshire" and the "Scottish Minstrel," +edited by R. A. Smith. His lyrics likewise adorn the pages of +Robertson's "Whistle Binkie" and the "Book of Scottish Song." He +published, in 1846, a collected edition of his poems and songs, in a +duodecimo volume, under the designation of "Wayside Flowers." A second +edition appeared in 1850. He has been an occasional contributor to the +local journals; furnished a number of anecdotes for the "Laird of +Logan," a humorous publication of the west of Scotland; and has compiled +some useful elementary works for the use of Sabbath-schools. His lyrics +are uniformly pervaded by graceful simplicity, and the chief themes of +his inspiration are love and patriotism. Than his song entitled "My Ain +Wife," we do not know a lay more beautifully simple. His "Hopeless +Exile" is the perfection of tenderness. + + + + +AE HAPPY HOUR. + +AIR--_"The Cock Laird."_ + + + The dark gray o' gloamin', + The lone leafy shaw, + The coo o' the cushat, + The scent o' the haw; + The brae o' the burnie, + A' bloomin' in flower, + An' twa' faithfu' lovers, + Make ae happy hour. + + A kind winsome wifie, + A clean canty hame, + An' smilin' sweet babies + To lisp the dear name; + Wi' plenty o' labour, + An' health to endure, + Make time to row round aye + The ae happy hour. + + Ye lost to affection, + Whom avarice can move + To woo an' to marry + For a' thing but love; + Awa' wi' your sorrows, + Awa' wi' your store, + Ye ken na the pleasure + O' ae happy hour. + + + + +LASS, GIN YE WAD LO'E ME. + +AIR--_"Lass, gin I come near you."_ + + + "Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Ye'se be ladye o' my ha', + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me. + A canty but, a cosie ben, + Weel plenish'd ye may trow me; + A brisk, a blithe, a kind gudeman-- + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!" + + "Walth, there 's little doubt ye ha'e, + An' bidin' bein an' easy; + But brisk an' blithe ye canna be, + An' you sae auld an' crazy. + Wad marriage mak' you young again? + Wad woman's love renew you? + Awa', ye silly doitet man, + I canna, winna lo'e you!" + + "Witless hizzie, e'en 's you like, + The ne'er a doit I 'm carin'; + But men maun be the first to speak, + An' wanters maun be speerin'. + Yet, lassie, I ha'e lo'ed you lang, + An' now I'm come to woo you; + I 'm no sae auld as clashes gang, + I think you 'd better lo'e me." + + "Doitet bodie! auld or young, + Ye needna langer tarry, + Gin ane be loutin' o'er a rung, + He 's no for me to marry. + Gae hame an' ance bethink yoursel' + How ye wad come to woo me, + An' mind me i' your latter-will, + Bodie, gin ye lo'e me!" + + + + +LASS OF LOGIE. + +AIR--_"Lass of Arranteenie."_ + + + I 've seen the smiling summer flower + Amang the braes of Yarrow; + I 've heard the raving winter wind + Amang the hills of Barra; + I 've wander'd Scotland o'er and o'er, + Frae Teviot to Strathbogie; + But the bonniest lass that I ha'e seen + Is bonnie Jean of Logie. + + Her lips were like the heather bloom, + In meekest dewy morning; + Her cheeks were like the ruddy leaf, + The bloomy brier adorning; + Her brow was like the milky flower + That blossoms in the bogie; + And love was laughing in her een-- + The bonnie lass of Logie. + + I said, "My lassie, come wi' me, + My hand, my hame are ready; + I ha'e a lairdship of my ain, + And ye shall be my ladye. + I 've ilka thing baith out and in, + To make you blithe and vogie;" + She hung her head and sweetly smiled-- + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + But she has smiled, and fate has frown'd, + And wrung my heart with sorrow; + The bonnie lass sae dear to me + Can never be my marrow. + For, ah! she loves another lad-- + The ploughman wi' his cogie; + Yet happy, happy may she be, + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + + + +MY AIN WIFE. + +AIR--_"John Anderson, my Jo."_ + + + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see; + For, Oh! my dainty ain wife, + She 's aye sae dear to me. + A bonnier yet I 've never seen, + A better canna be; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Though beauty is a fadin' flower, + As fadin' as it 's fair, + It looks fu' well in ony wife, + An' mine has a' her share. + She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass-- + She 's bonnie aye to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Oh, couthy is my ingle-cheek, + An' cheery is my Jean; + I never see her angry look, + Nor hear her word on ane. + She 's gude wi' a' the neebours roun', + An' aye gude wi' me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + But Oh, her looks sae kindly, + They melt my heart outright, + When ower the baby at her breast + She hangs wi' fond delight. + She looks intill its bonnie face, + An' syne looks to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + + + +THE MAID O' MONTROSE. + +AIR--_"O tell me the Way for to Woo."_ + + + O sweet is the calm dewy gloaming, + When saftly by Rossie-wood brae, + The merle an' mavis are hymning + The e'en o' the lang summer's day! + An' sweet are the moments when o'er the blue ocean, + The full moon arising in majesty glows; + An' I, breathing o'er ilka tender emotion, + Wi' my lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + The fopling sae fine an' sae airy, + Sae fondly in love wi' himsel', + Is proud wi' his ilka new dearie, + To shine at the fair an' the ball; + But gie me the grove where the broom's yellow blossom + Waves o'er the white lily an' red smiling rose, + An' ae bonnie lassie to lean on my bosom-- + My ain lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O what is the haill warld's treasure, + Gane nane o' its pleasures we prove? + An' where can we taste o' true pleasure, + Gin no wi' the lassie we love? + O sweet are the smiles an' the dimples o' beauty, + Where lurking the loves an' the graces repose; + An' sweet is the form an' the air o' the pretty, + But sweeter is Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though few are sae bonnie as thee; + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though handsome as woman can be. + The rose bloom is gane when the chill autumn's low'ring; + The aik's stately form when the wild winter blows; + But the charms o' the mind are the ties mair enduring-- + These bind me to Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + + + +JEAN OF ABERDEEN. + +AIR--_"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."_ + + + Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, + On stately Dee's wild woody knowes; + Ye 've seen the op'ning lily fair, + In streamy Don's gay broomy howes: + An' ilka bonnie flower that grows, + Amang their banks and braes sae green-- + These borrow a' their finest hues + Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Ye 've seen the dew-ey'd bloomy haw, + When morning gilds the welkin high; + Ye 've heard the breeze o' summer blaw, + When e'ening steals alang the sky. + But brighter far is Jeanie's eye, + When we 're amang the braes alane, + An' softer is the bosom-sigh + Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Though I had a' the valleys gay, + Around the airy Bennochie; + An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray + Amang the lofty hills o' Dee; + While Mem'ry lifts her melting ee, + An' Hope unfolds her fairy scene, + My heart wi' them I'd freely gie + To lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + + + +THE HOPELESS EXILE. + +AIR--_"Alas! for Poor Teddy Macshane."_ + + + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Where the mountain is steep, + Where the valley is deep, + Where the waves of the Ohio foam; + Where no cheering smile + His woes may beguile-- + Oh! there has the exile his home. + + Oh! when will the exile return? + Oh! when will the exile return? + When our hearts heave no sigh, + When our tears shall be dry, + When Erin no longer shall mourn; + When his name we disown, + When his mem'ry is gone-- + Oh! then will the exile return! + + + + +GLEN-NA-H'ALBYN.[29] + +AIR--_"O rest thee, my Darling."_ + + + On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, + The boat 's on the shallow, the ship on the lake; + Ah! now in a moment my country I leave; + The next I am far away--far on the wave! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + + I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief, + And to build up his House was the aim of my life; + And now in his greatness he turns me away, + When my strength is decay'd and my locks worn gray. + Oh! fare thee well! + + Farewell the gray stones of my ancestors' graves, + I go to my place 'neath the foam of the waves; + Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore, + Where none of my fathers were gathered before! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[29] "Glen-na-h'Albyn, or Glen-more-na-h'Albyn, the great Glen of +Caledonia, is a name applied to the valley which runs in a direction +from north-east to south-west, the whole breadth of the kingdom, from +the Moray Firth at Inverness to the Sound of Mull below Fort-William, +and is almost filled with lakes." + + + + +ALEXANDER CARLILE. + + +Alexander Carlile was born at Paisley in the year 1788. His progenitors +are said to have been remarkable for their acquaintance with the arts, +and relish for elegant literature. His eldest brother, the late Dr +Carlile of Dublin attained much eminence as a profound thinker and an +accomplished theologian. Having received a liberal education, first at +the grammar-school of Paisley, and afterwards in the University of +Glasgow, the subject of this sketch settled as a manufacturer in his +native town. Apart from the avocations of business, much of his time has +been devoted to the concerns of literature; he has contributed to the +more esteemed periodicals, and composed verses for several works on the +national minstrelsy. At an early period he composed the spirited and +popular song, beginning "Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?" which has +since obtained a place in all the collections. His only separate +publication, a duodecimo volume of "Poems," appeared in 1855, and has +been favourably received. Mr Carlile is much devoted to the interests of +his native town, and has sedulously endeavoured to promote the moral and +social welfare of his fellow-townsmen. His unobtrusive worth and elegant +accomplishments have endeared him to a wide circle of friends. His +latter poetical compositions have been largely pervaded by religious +sentiment. + + + + +WHA'S AT THE WINDOW?[30] + + + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Wha but blithe Jamie Glen, + He 's come sax miles and ten, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa, awa, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa. + + He has plighted his troth, and a', and a', + Leal love to gi'e, and a', and a', + And sae has she dune, + By a' that 's abune, + For he lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a', 'bune a', + He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a'. + + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + But the bride's modest e'e, + And warm cheek are to me + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a', + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a'. + + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha', + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha'; + There 's quaffing and laughing, + There 's dancing and daffing, + And the bride's father 's blithest of a', of a', + The bride's father 's blithest of a'. + + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + That my heart is sae eerie + When a' the lave 's cheerie, + But it 's just that she 'll aye be awa, awa, + It 's just that she 'll aye be awa. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[30] The title of this song seems to have been suggested by that of a +ballad recovered by Cromek, and published in his "Remains of Nithsdale +and Galloway Song," p. 219. The first line of the old ballad runs thus: +"Oh, who is this under my window."--ED. + + + + +MY BROTHERS ARE THE STATELY TREES. + + + My brothers are the stately trees + That in the forests grow; + The simple flowers my sisters are, + That on the green bank blow. + With them, with them, I am a child + Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild. + + The daisy, with its tear of joy, + Gay greets me as I stray; + How sweet a voice of welcome comes + From every trembling spray! + How light, how bright, the golden-wing'd hours + I spend among those songs and flowers! + + I love the Spirit of the Wind, + His varied tones I know; + His voice of soothing majesty, + Of love and sobbing woe; + Whate'er his varied theme may be, + With his my spirit mingles free. + + I love to tread the grass-green path, + Far up the winding stream; + For there in nature's loneliness, + The day is one bright dream. + And still the pilgrim waters tell + Of wanderings wild by wood and dell. + + Or up the mountain's brow I toil + Beneath a wid'ning sky, + Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide, + Crowding the wondering eye. + Then, then, my soul on eagle's wings, + To cloudless regions upwards springs! + + The stars--the stars! I know each one, + With all its soul of love, + They beckon me to come and live + In their tearless homes above; + And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers, + And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers. + + + + +THE VALE OF KILLEAN. + + + O yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet + As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; + So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green, + 'Mid Scotia's dark mountains--the Vale of Killean. + + The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam, + The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home, + That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close, + Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose. + + How solemn the broad hills that curtain around + This sanctuary of nature, 'mid a wilderness found, + Whose echoes low whisper, "Bid the world farewell, + And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell!" + + Then build me a cot by that lake's verdant shore, + 'Mid the world's wild turmoil I 'll mingle no more, + And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear, + Of man's crimes and his follies, no more shall I hear. + + Young Morn, as on tiptoe he ushers the day, + Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray; + And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart + To the soul her own meekness--a rich glow to the heart. + + The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest, + As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast; + And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise, + Like the mist from the mountain to blend with the skies. + + + + +JOHN NEVAY. + + +John Nevay, the bard of Forfar, was born in that town on the 28th of +January 1792. He was educated at the schools of his native place, and +considerably improved himself in classical learning, at an early age, +under the tuition of Mr James Clarke, sometime master of the Burgh +School, and the friend and correspondent of Burns. Fond of solitary +rambles in the country, he began, while a mere youth, to portray in +verse his impressions of the scenery which he was in the habit of +surveying. He celebrated the green fields, the lochs and mountains near +the scene of his nativity, and was rewarded with the approving smiles of +the family circle. Acquiring facility in the production of verses, he +was at length induced to venture on a publication. In 1818 he gave to +the world a "Pamphlet of Rhymes," which, obtaining a ready sale, induced +him to publish a second small collection of verses in 1821. After an +interval devoted to mental improvement, he appeared, in 1834, as the +author of "The Peasant, a Poem in Nine Cantos, with other Poems," in one +volume, 12mo. In the following year he published "The Child of Nature, +and other Poems," in a thin duodecimo volume. In 1853 he printed, by +subscription, a third volume, entitled "Rosaline's Dream, in Four Duans, +and other Poems," which was accompanied with an introductory essay by +the Rev. George Gilfillan. His latest production--"The Fountain of the +Rock, a Poem"--appeared in a pamphlet form, in 1855. He has repeatedly +written prose tales for the periodicals, and has contributed verses to +_Blackwood's Magazine_ and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. + +From the labour of a long career of honourable industry, John Nevay is +now enjoying the pleasures of retirement. He continues to compose verses +with undiminished ardour, and has several MS. poems ready for the press. +He has also prepared a lengthened autobiography. As a poet, his +prevailing themes are the picturesque objects of nature. His lyrical +pieces somewhat lack simplicity. His best production--"The Emigrant's +Love-letter"--will maintain a place in the national minstrelsy. It was +composed during the same week with Motherwell's "Jeanie Morrison," which +it so peculiarly resembles both in expression and sentiment. + + + + +THE EMIGRANT'S LOVE-LETTER. + + + My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been + A century to me; + I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard + Thy voice's melodie. + The mony hardships I ha'e tholed + Sin' I left Larocklea, + I maun na tell, for it would bring + The saut tear in thine e'e. + + But I ha'e news, an' happy news, + To tell unto my love-- + What I ha'e won, to me mair dear + That it my heart can prove. + Its thochts unchanged, still it is true, + An' surely sae is thine; + Thou never, never canst forget + That twa waur ane langsyne. + + The simmer sun blinks on the tarn, + An' on the primrose brae, + Where we, in days o' innocence, + Waur wont to daff an' play; + An' I amang the mossy springs + Wade for the hinny blooms-- + To thee the rush tiara wove, + Bedeck'd wi' lily plumes. + + When on the ferny knowe we sat, + A happy, happy pair-- + Thy comely cheek laid on my knee, + I plaited thy gowden hair. + Oh! then I felt the holiest thocht + That e'er enter'd my mind-- + It, Mary, was to be to thee + For ever true an' kind. + + Though fair the flowers that bloom around + My dwallin' owre the sea-- + Though bricht the streams, an' green the bowers, + They are na _sae_ to me. + I hear the bulbul's mellow leed + Upo' the gorgeous paum-- + The sweet cheep o' the feather'd bee + Amang the fields o' baum. + + But there are nae auld Scotland's burds, + Sae dear to childhood's days-- + The laverock, lintie, shulf, an' yyoite, + That taught us luve's sweet lays. + Gin' thou e'er wauk'st alane to think + On him that's owre the sea, + Their cheerfu' saft luve-lilts will tell + My heart's luve-thochts to thee. + + Lat joy be in thy leal, true heart, + An' bricht smile in thine e'e-- + The bonnie bark is in the bay, + I 'm coming hame to thee; + I 'm coming hame to thee, Mary, + Wi' mony a pearl fine, + An' I will lay them in thy lap, + For the kiss o' sweet langsyne. + + + + +THOMAS LYLE. + + +Thomas Lyle, author of the highly popular song, "Kelvin Grove," is a +native of Paisley. Attending the philosophical and medical classes in +the University of Glasgow, he obtained the diploma of surgeon in the +year 1816. He commenced medical practice in Glasgow, where he remained +till 1826, when he removed to the parish of Airth in Stirlingshire. The +latter locality afforded him abundant opportunities for prosecuting his +favourite study of botany; and he frequently proceeded at early dawn to +great distances in quest of curious or rare plants, so as to gratify his +peculiar tastes without interfering with the duties of his profession, +or the conveniences of his patients. At an earlier period of life, +having cherished a love for the ancient national music, he was in the +habit of collecting and noting such of the older airs as were rapidly +passing into oblivion. He was particularly struck with one of these +airs, which he deemed worthy of more suitable words than those to which +it was commonly sung.[31] At this period he often resorted, in his +botanical rambles, to the wooded and sequestered banks of the Kelvin, +about two miles north-west of Glasgow;[32] and in consequence, he was +led to compose for his favourite tune the words of his beautiful song, +"Kelvin Grove." "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was now in the course of +being published, in sixpence numbers, under the editorship of his +college friend and professional brother, John Sim, and to this work he +contributed his new song. In a future number of the work, the song +appeared without his name, as was requested, but with some unauthorised +alterations. Of these he complained to Mr Sim, who laid the blame on Mr +John Murdoch, who had succeeded him in the editorship, and Mr Lyle did +not further prosecute inquiry on the subject. On the retirement of Mr +Murdoch, the editorship of "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was intrusted to +the poet Motherwell, who incautiously ascribed the song to Mr Sim in the +index of the work. Sim died in the West Indies before this period;[33] +and, in the belief that the song had been composed by him, Mr Purdie, +music-seller in Edinburgh, made purchase of the copyright from his +representatives, and published the words, with music arranged for the +piano by Robert Archibald Smith. Mr Lyle now asserted his title to the +authorship, and on Mr Sim's letter regarding the alterations being +submitted to Messrs Motherwell and Smith, a decision in favour of his +claim was pronounced by these gentlemen. Mr Lyle was shortly after +invited by Mr Smith to contribute songs for the "Irish Minstrel," one of +his numerous musical publications. + +In 1827 Mr Lyle published the results of his researches into the song +literature of his country, in a duodecimo volume, entitled "Ancient +Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition, Manuscripts, and scarce +Works, with Biographical and Illustrative Notices." Of this work, the +more interesting portion consists of "Miscellaneous Poems, by Sir +William Mure, Knight of Rowallan," together with several songs of +various merit by the editor. + +Having acted as medical practitioner at Airth during the period of +twenty-eight years, Mr Lyle, in the close of 1853, returned to Glasgow, +where he soon found himself actively employed by the medical boards of +the city during the prevalence of the Asiatic Cholera. At the present +time he is one of the city district surgeons. A man of the most retiring +dispositions, he has hitherto avoided public reputation, and has written +verses, as he has studied botany, solely for his amusement. He will, +however, be remembered as the writer of some exquisitely sweet and +simple lyrics. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[31] The former words to this air commenced, "Oh, the shearing's no for +you, bonnie lassie, O!" + +[32] The wooded scenery of the Kelvin will in a few years be included +within the boundaries of the city, which has already extended within a +very limited space of the "grove" celebrated in the song. + +[33] See vol. iii., p. 226. + + + + +KELVIN GROVE. + + + Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O! + Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the rose in all her pride, + Paints the hollow dingle side, + Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O! + + Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O! + To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the glens rebound the call + Of the roaring water's fall, + Through the mountains rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O! + + O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O! + When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O! + There the May pink's crimson plume + Throws a soft but sweet perfume + Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O! + + Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O! + As the smile of fortune 's thine, bonnie lassie, O! + Yet with fortune on my side, + I could stay thy father's pride, + And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O! + + But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O! + On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O! + Ere yon golden orb of day + Wake the warblers on the spray, + From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O! + + Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O! + And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O! + To the river winding clear, + To the fragrant-scented breer, + Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O! + + When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O! + Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O! + Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear + Of thy lover on his bier, + To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O! + + + + +THE TRYSTING HOUR. + + + The night-wind's Eolian breezes, + Chase melody over the grove, + The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses, + Float rosy the woodlands above; + Then tarry no longer, my true love, + The stars hang their lamps in the sky, + 'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love, + When each bloom has a tear in its eye. + + So stilly the evening is closing, + Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall, + Eolian whispers reposing + Breathe softly, I hear my love call; + Yes, the light fairy step of my true love + The night breeze is wafting to me; + Over heathbell and violet blue, love, + Perfuming the shadowy lea. + + + + +HARVEST SONG.[34] + + + The harvest morning breaks + Breathing balm, and the lawn + Through the mist in rosy streaks + Gilds the dawn, + While fairy troops descend, + With the rolling clouds that bend + O'er the forest as they wend + Fast away, when the day + Chases cloudy wreaths away + From the land. + + The harvest breezes swell, + And the song pours along, + From the reapers in the dell, + Joyous throng! + The tiny gleaners come, + Picking up their harvest home, + As they o'er the stubble roam, + Dancing here, sporting there, + All the balmy sunny air + Is full of song. + + The harvest evening falls, + While each flower round the bower, + Breathing odour, now recalls + The lover's hour. + The moon enthroned in blue + Lights the rippling lake anew, + And the wailing owls' whoo! whoo! + From the glen again, again, + Wakes the stillness of the scene + On my adieu. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[34] Contributed by Mr Lyle to the present work. + + + + +JAMES HOME. + + +James Home, the author of "Mary Steel," and other popular songs, was +born, early in the century, on the farm of Hollybush, about a mile south +of Galashiels. During a period of about thirty years, he has been +engaged in the humble capacity of a dry-stone mason in Peeblesshire. He +resides in the hamlet of Rachan Mill in that county, where, in addition +to his ordinary employment, he holds the office of postmaster. + +Home has not ventured on a publication, and latterly has abandoned the +composition of verses. In youth he was, writes a correspondent, "an +enthusiast in love, music, and poetry." A number of his songs and +poetical pieces, which he had addressed to friends, have long been +popular in the south of Scotland. His song entitled "This Lassie o' +Mine" has enjoyed an uncommon measure of general favour. His +compositions are replete with pathos; he has skilfully told the lover's +tale; and has most truthfully depicted the joys and sorrows, hopes and +fears of human life. Some of his best pieces appear in the "Unknown +Poets" of Mr Alexander Campbell,--a work which only reached a single +number. Of mild dispositions, modest manners, and industrious habits, +Home is much respected in private life. Of a somewhat sanguine +complexion, his countenance betokens superior intellectual power. He +enjoys the comfort of a suitable partner in life, and is a respected +office-bearer of the Free Church congregation at Broughton. + + + + +MARY STEEL. + + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the lark begins to sing, + And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts + Are welcoming the spring: + When the merle and the blackbird build their nest + In the bushy forest tree, + And a' things under the sky seem blest, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the simmer spreads her flowers, + And the lily blooms and the ivy twines + In beauty round the bowers; + When the cushat coos in the leafy wood, + And the lambs sport o'er the lea, + And every heart 's in its happiest mood, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When har'st blithe days begin, + And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field, + The foremost rig to win; + When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld, + Where light-hair'd lasses be, + And mony a tale o' love is tauld, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the winter winds rave high, + And the tempest wild is pourin' doun + Frae the dark and troubled sky: + When a hopeless wail is heard on land, + And shrieks frae the roaring sea, + And the wreck o' nature seems at hand, + My thoughts shall be o' thee! + + + + +OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN? + + + Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade, + And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary? + Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made, + When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary? + + Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget, + The hours we have spent together? + Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet + Shine on as brightly as ever! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss, + So fraught with the heart's full feeling? + As we clung to each other in the last embrace, + The soul of love revealing! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot, + Where the farewell word was spoken? + Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot, + The vow and the promise broken? + + Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one; + Though other arms caress thee, + Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain, + And a smoother tongue should bless thee:-- + + Yet never again on thy warm young cheek + Will breathe a soul more warm than mine, + And never again will a lover speak + Of love more pure to thine. + + + + +THE MAID OF MY HEART. + +AIR--_"The Last Rose of Summer."_ + + + When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, + The only beloved of my bosom is nigh, + I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + When around and above us there 's nought to be seen, + But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green, + And all is at rest in the glen and the hill, + Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill. + + Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd, + Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd; + Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + + + +SONG OF THE EMIGRANT. + + + Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, + Where the maiden's step is light and free; + Where the shepherd's pipe, and the hunter's horn, + Awake the joys of the rosy morn. + + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the lake, + That tells how the foamy billows break; + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the wood, + That tells of dreary solitude. + + But, oh! when it comes from the mountain fells, + Where the Spirit of Song and Freedom dwells, + Where in youth's warm day I woke that strain + I ne'er in this world can wake again. + + The warm blood leaps in its wonted course, + And fresh tears gush from their briny source, + As if I had hail'd in the passing wind + The all I have loved and left behind. + + + + +THIS LASSIE O' MINE.[35] + +TUNE--_"Wattie's Ramble."_ + + + O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine? + Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine? + Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e? + Sure naebody e'er was sae happy as me. + + It 's no that she dances sae light on the green, + It 's no the simplicity marked in her mien-- + But, O! it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e + That keeps me aye happy as happy can be. + + To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees, + When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees; + To breathe out the soul in a saft melting kiss-- + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + + I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy, + When friends circle round, and nought to annoy; + I have felt every joy which illumines the breast + When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd. + + But, O! there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm + In life's early day, when the bosom is warm, + When soul meets with soul in a saft melting kiss, + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[35] This song was formerly introduced in this work (vol. ii. p. 70) as +the composition of the Ettrick Shepherd. The error is not ours; we found +the song in the latest or posthumous edition of the Shepherd's songs, p. +201 (Blackie, Glasgow), and we had no reason to suspect the +authenticity. We have since ascertained that a copy of the song, having +been handed to the Shepherd by the late Mr Peter Roger, of Peebles, +Hogg, with the view of directing attention to the real author, +introduced it shortly after in his _Noctes Bengerianć_, in the +"Edinburgh Literary Journal" (vol. i. p. 258). Being included in this +periodical paper, the editor of his posthumous works had assumed that +the song was the Shepherd's own composition. So much for uncertainty as +to the authorship of our best songs! + + + + +JAMES TELFER. + + +James Telfer, an ingenious prose writer and respectable poet, was born +about the commencement of the century, near the source of the river Jed, +in the parish of Southdean, and county of Roxburgh. Passionate in his +admiration of Hogg's "Queen's Wake," he early essayed imitations of some +of the more remarkable portions of that poem. In 1824 he published at +Jedburgh a volume of "Border Ballads and Miscellaneous Poems," which he +inscribed to the Bard of Ettrick. "Barbara Gray," an interesting prose +tale, appeared from his pen in 1835, printed at Newcastle. A collected +edition of his best productions in prose and verse was published at +London in 1852, with the title of "Tales and Sketches." He has long been +a contributor to the provincial journals. + +Some of Mr Telfer's ballads are respectable specimens of this class of +compositions; and his tales in prose are written with much vigour, the +narrative of "Barbara Gray" being especially interesting. For many years +he has taught an adventure school at Saughtree, Liddisdale; and with +emoluments not much beyond twenty pounds a-year, he has contrived to +support a family. He has long maintained a literary correspondence with +his ingenious friend, Mr Robert White of Newcastle; and his letters, +some of which we have seen, abound with curious and interesting +speculations. + + + + +OH, WILL YE WALK THE WOOD WI' ME?[36] + + + "Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? + Oh, will ye walk the green? + Or will ye sit within mine arms, + My ain kind Jean?" + + "It 's I 'll not walk the wood wi' thee, + Nor yet will I the green; + And as for sitting in your arms, + It 's what I dinna mean." + + "Oh! slighted love is ill to thole, + And weel may I compleen; + But since that better mayna be, + I e'en maun thol 't for Jean." + + "Gang up to May o' Mistycleugh, + Ye saw her late yestreen; + Ye'll find in her a lightsome love + Ye winna find in Jean." + + "Wi' bonny May o' Mistycleugh + I carena to be seen; + Her lightsome love I'd freely gie + For half a blink frae Jean." + + "Gang down to Madge o' Miryfaulds, + I ken for her ye green; + Wi' her ye 'll get a purse o' gowd-- + Ye 'll naething get wi' Jean." + + "For doity Madge o' Miryfaulds + I dinna care a preen; + The purse o' gowd I weel could want, + If I could hae my Jean." + + "Oh, yes! I 'll walk the wood wi' thee; + Oh, yes! I 'll walk the green; + But first ye 'll meet me at the kirk, + And mak' me aye your Jean." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[36] Portions of the first and second verses of this song are fragments +of an older ditty.--_Note by the Author._ + + + + +I MAUN GAE OVER THE SEA. + + + "Sweet summer now is by, + And cauld winter is nigh, + The wan leaves they fa' frae the tree; + The hills are white wi' snaw, + And the frosty winds blaw, + And I maun gie over the sea, Mary, + And I maun gie over the sea. + + "But winter will gang by, + And summer come wi' joy, + And Nature again will be free; + And wooers you will find, + And mair ye 'll never mind + The laddie that 's over the sea, Mary, + The laddie that 's over the sea." + + "Oh, Willie, since it 's sae, + My heart is very wae + To leave a' my friends and countrie; + But wi' thee I will gang, + Though the way it be lang, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea, Willie, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea." + + "The way is vera far, + And terrible is war, + And great are the hardships to dree; + And if I should be slain, + Or a prisoner ta'en, + My jewel, what would come o' thee, Mary? + My jewel, what would come o' thee? + + "Sae at hame ye maun bide, + And should it sae betide + That a bride to another ye be, + For ane that lo'ed ye dear + Ye 'll whiles drap a tear; + I 'll aften do the same for thee, Mary, + I 'll aften do the same for thee." + + The rowan tear down fell, + Her bosom wasna well, + For she sabbit most wofullie; + "Oure the yirth I wad gang, + And never count it lang, + But I fear ye carena for me, Willie, + But I fear ye carena for me." + + Nae langer could he thole, + She tore his vera soul, + He dighted her bonnie blue e'e; + "Oh, what was it you said, + Oh my ain loving maid? + I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary, + I 'll never love a woman but thee!" + + The fae is forced to yield, + And freedom has the field; + "Away I will ne'er gang frae thee; + Only death shall us part, + Keep sic thoughts frae my heart, + But never shall part us the sea, Mary, + But never shall part us the sea." + + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +EVAN MACLACHLAN. + + +One of the most learned of the modern Gaelic song-writers, Evan +Maclachlan, was born in 1775, in a small hut called Torracaltuin, in the +district of Lochaber. After struggling with many difficulties in +obtaining the means of education, he qualified himself for the duties of +an itinerating tutor. In this capacity it was his good fortune to live +in the families of the substantial tenantry of the district, two of +whom, the farmers at Clunes and Glen Pean, were led to evince an +especial interest in his welfare. The localities of those early patrons +he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry, +supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was +fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's +College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he +gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the +celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years, +the office of librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected +master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on +the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he +devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease, +the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society, +under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief +amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of +Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has +been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed +from the following specimens in English verse. + + + + +A MELODY OF LOVE. + + The first stanza of this song was the composition of a + lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic, + and afterwards produced the following version of the + whole in English. + + + Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, + Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore: + Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail, + Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale. + + As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow, + The locks of my fair one redundantly flow; + Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display + When they glitter with dew on the morning of May. + + As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove, + Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love: + Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays, + Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze. + + The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn, + Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn: + But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain, + When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain. + + When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers, + While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers, + Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove, + And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love. + + + + +THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN. + + These verses are allegorical. In the character of a + song-bird the bard relates the circumstances of his + nativity, the simple habits of his progenitors, and his + own rural tastes and recreations from infancy, giving + the first place to the delights of melody. He proceeds + to give an account of his flight to a strange but + hospitable region, where he continued to sing his songs + among the birds, the flocks, the streams, and + cultivated fields of the land of his sojourn. This + piece is founded upon a common usage of the Gaelic + bards, several of whom assume the allegorical character + of the "Mavis" of their own clan. Thus we have the + Mavis of Clan-ranald by Mac-Vaistir-Allister--of + Macdonald (of Sleat) by Mac Codrum--of Macleod, and + many others. + + + Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, + And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely; + No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak, + No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek. + I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared + For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared: + Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn, + And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn; + Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care, + And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air. + + When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's[37] silver stream + Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam, + The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd, + As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd. + But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I + Among the glades of Cluaran[38] must imp my wings and fly; + Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove, + Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove. + + By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day, + Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray, + The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure, + And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure? + With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd, + Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd, + While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir, + That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire. + O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars + The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars + A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill + Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill. + + The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad, + It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd, + Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads + (A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads. + Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather, + Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither; + Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side + Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride. + + Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son-- + I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run, + I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece, + Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze. + The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well, + Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell! + The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far, + As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star! + I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see + The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea. + + Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine, + The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine; + And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell, + With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well. + + * * * * * + + And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade + That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd; + The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather, + Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together; + For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken; + 'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[37] The stream that flows through Glen Pean. + +[38] The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained for many +years of his tutor life. + + + + +THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.[39] + + + + +JOHN BROWN. + + +One of the bards of Cowal is believed to have been born in the parish of +Inverchaolain about 1750; his family name was Brun or Broun, as +distinguished from the Lowland Brown, which he assumed. He first +appeared as a poet by the publication, at Perth, in 1786, of a small +volume of Gaelic poetry, dedicated to the Duke of Montrose. The +subsequent portion of his career seems to have been chiefly occupied in +genealogical researches. In 1792 he completed, in two large sheets, his +"Historical and Genealogical Tree of the Royal Family of Scotland;" of +which the second edition bears the date 1811. This was followed by +similar genealogical trees of the illustrious family of Graham, of the +noble house of Elphinstone, and other families. In these productions he +uniformly styles himself, "Genealogist to his R. H. the Prince of Wales, +for Scotland." Brown died at Edinburgh in the beginning of the year +1821. He had formed a respectable connexion by marriage, under +circumstances which he has commemorated in the annexed specimen of his +poetry, but his latter years were somewhat clouded by misfortune. He is +remembered as a solicitor for subscriptions to his genealogical +publications. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[39] Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith of Clyde, +and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine. + + + + +THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY. + + The poet had paid his addresses to one of the sisters, + but without the consent of her relatives, who + ultimately induced her to wed another. After a lapse of + time the bard transferred his affection to another + daughter of the same distinguished family, and being + successful, was compensated for his former trials. + + + The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night, + And the stars were attired in the glory of light, + And the hope of the lover was shining as day, + When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away. + + Away she has gone at the touch of the helm, + And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm-- + But, would that his strength as his purpose was true, + At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew! + + Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time, + The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime, + And the _Brunach_[40] would joy, in the succour they gave, + To win him a bride, or to win him a grave. + + My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found, + Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound; + In the flush of my health and my penniless youth, + I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth. + + Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken + The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking; + A sister is salving a sister's annoy, + And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy. + + A bride worth the princesses England is rearing, + Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing; + If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before, + In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more. + + The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild + That in friendship or charity never beguiled, + She is mine--to Dunduala[41] that traces her stem, + As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them, + Though Donald[42] the gracious be head of her line, + And "our exiled and dear"[43] in her pedigree shine. + + Then hearken, ye men of the country I love! + Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love, + Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly, + May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[40] Brunach--The Brown, viz., the poet himself. + +[41] The Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the Scoto-Irish kings +who reigned in Dunstaffnage. + +[42] Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings. + +[43] Prince Charles Edward. + + + + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D. + + +The Rev. Dr Stewart was born at Appin, Argyllshire, in 1751. His mother +was a daughter of Edmonstone of Cambuswallace, the representative of an +old and distinguished family in the counties of Perth and Stirling; and +his father was brother of Stewart of Invernachoil, who was actively +engaged in the cause of Prince Charles Edward, and has been +distinguished in the romance of Waverley as the Baron of Bradwardine. +This daring Argyllshire chief, whom Scott represents as being fed in the +cave by "Davie Gellatly," was actually tended in such a place of +concealment by his own daughter, a child about ten years old. + +On receiving license, Dr Stewart soon attained popularity as a preacher. +In 1779, being in his twenty-eighth year, he was ordained to the +pastoral charge of the parish of Strachur, Argyllshire. He died in the +manse of Strachur on the 24th of May 1826, in the seventy-fifth year of +his age, and the forty-seventh of his ministry. A tombstone was erected +to his memory in the parochial burying-ground, by the members of the +kirk-session. Possessed of superior talents, a vast fund of humour, and +a delightful store of traditional information, he was much cherished by +a wide circle of admiring friends. Faithful in the discharge of the +public duties of his office, he was distinguished among his parishioners +for his private amenities and acts of benevolence. He was the author +only of one song, but this has attained much favour among the Gael. + + + + +LUINEAG--A LOVE CAROL. + + + No homeward scene near me, + No comrade to cheer me, + I cling to my dearie, + And sigh till I marry. + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Ra-ill O, + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Was ever a May like my fairy? + + My youth with the stranger,[44] + Next on mountains a ranger, + I pass'd--but no change, here, + Will sever from Mary. + + What ringlets discover + Their gloss thy brows over-- + Forget thee! thy lover, + Ah, first shall they bury. + + Thy aspect of kindness, + Thy graces they bind us, + And, like Feili,[45] remind us + Of a heaven undreary. + + Than the treasures of Spain + I would toil more to gain + Thy love--but my pain, + Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary! + + When the shell is o'erflowing, + And its dew-drops are glowing, + No, never, thy snow on + A slander shall tarry. + + When viols are playing, + And dancers are Maying, + My eyes may be straying, + But my soul is with Mary. + + That white hand of thine + Might I take into mine, + Could I ever repine, + Or from tenderness vary? + + No, never! no, never! + My troth on 't for ever, + Lip to lip, I 'd deliver + My being to Mary. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[44] Invernahyle removed with his family to Edinburgh, and became very +intimate with the father of Sir Walter Scott. He seems to have made a +great impression on the future poet. + +[45] Festivals, saint-days. + + + + +ANGUS FLETCHER. + + +Angus Fletcher was born at Coirinti, a wild and romantic spot on the +west bank of Loch Eck, in June 1776. His education was chiefly conducted +at the parish school of Kilmodan, Glendaruel. From Glendaruel he went to +Bute, in 1791, where he was variously employed till May 1804, when he +was elected schoolmaster of Dunoon, his native parish. His death took +place at Dunoon in 1852. The first of the two following songs was +contributed anonymously to the _Weekly Journal_ newspaper, whence it was +transferred by Turner into his Gaelic collection. It soon became popular +in the Highlands, and the authorship came to be assigned to different +individuals. Fletcher afterwards announced himself as the author, and +completely established his claim. He was the author of various metrical +compositions both in Gaelic and English. + + + + +THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL. + + + Thy wily eyes, my darling, + Thy graces bright, my jewel, + Have grieved me since our parting + At the kirk of Glendaruel. + + 'Twas to the Kirkton wending + Bright eyes encounter'd duty, + And mavis' notes were blending + With the rosy cheeks of beauty. + + Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist, + Her arms, her instep queenly; + And her sweet parting lips are graced + With rows of ivory inly. + + When busy tongues are railing, + Lown is her word unsaucy, + And with modest grace unfailing + She trips it o'er the causey. + + Should royalty prefer me, + Preferment none I crave, + But to live a shepherd near thee, + On the howes of Corrichnaive. + + Would fortune crown my wishes-- + The shealing of the hill, + With my darling, and the rushes + To couch on, were my will. + + I hear, but not instruction, + Though faithful lips are pleading-- + I read thy eyes' perfection, + On their dew of mildness feeding. + + My hand is swiftly scrolling, + In the courts of reverend men;[46] + But, ah! my restless soul in + Is triumphing my Jean. + + I fear, I fear their frowning-- + But though they chased me over + Where Holland's flats[47] are drowning, + I 'll live and die thy lover. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[46] The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and clerk-depute +of presbytery. + +[47] The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the Duke of +York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword. + + + + +THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN. + + Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author. + + + Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes, + By a burnie's dimplit linn, + I told my love with artless blushes + To the lassie o' the glen. + + Oh! the birken bank sae grassy, + Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn; + Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie + Living in yon rashy glen! + + Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy + Shall be aye my fav'rite theme, + For on thy banks my Highland lassie + First confess'd a mutual flame. + + What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us, + In some sweet wee bow'ry den! + Or fondly stray amang the rashes, + Wi' the lassie o' the glen! + + And though I wander now unhappy, + Far frae scenes we haunted then, + I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy, + Nor the lassie o' the glen. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_Aboon_, above. + +_Aumry_, a store-place. + +_Baum_, balm. + +_Beuk_, book. + +_Bicker_, a drinking vessel. + +_Burnie_, a small stream. + +_Caller_, cool. + +_Cled_, clad. + +_Clud_, cloud. + +_Couthy_, frank. + +_Daffin'_, merry-making. + +_Dighted_, wiped. + +_Doit_, a small coin. + +_Doitet_, dotard. + +_Douf_, sad. + +_Dree_, endure. + +_Dwine_, dwindle. + +_Fauld_, fold. + +_Fleechit_, cajoled. + +_Fykes_, troubles, anxieties. + +_Gaed_, went. + +_Gar_, compel. + +_Gate_, way. + +_Glour_, look earnestly. + +_Grannie_, grandmother. + +_Grat_, wept. + +_Grit_, great. + +_Haill_, whole. + +_Haud_, hold, keep. + +_Heuk_, reaping-hook. + +_Hie_, high. + +_Hinny_, honey. + +_Hizzie_, _Hussy_, a thoughtless girl. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Knows_, knolls, hillocks. + +_Laith_, loth. + +_Lift_, firmament. + +_Lowin'_, burning. + +_Minnie_, mother. + +_Parochin'_, parish. + +_Pu'_, pull. + +_Roos'd_, praised. + +_Sabbit_, sobbed. + +_Scour_, search. + +_Slee_, sly. + +_Speerin'_, inquiring. + +_Swiggit_, swallowed. + +_Syne_, then. + +_Thole_, endure. + +_Toom_, empty. + +_Troth_, truth, vow. + +_Trow_, believe. + +_Tyne_, lose. + +_Unco_, uncommon. + +_Wag_, shake. + +_Waur_, worse. + +_Ween_, guess. + +_Yirth_, earth. + +_Yowes_, ewes. + + +END OF VOL. IV. + +BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume +IV., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + +***** This file should be named 19525-8.txt or 19525-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/2/19525/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 IV. + The Songs of Scotland of the Past Half Century + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 11, 2006 [EBook #19525] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</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. IV. + + +CAMPBELL + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN." title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="600" height="898" alt="Henry Scott Riddell. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane." title="" /> +<span class="caption"> +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & M<sup>c</sup>Farlane.</span> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h1><span style="font-size: 50%;">THE</span><br /> +<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OR,</span><br /> + +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 80%;">THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">WITH</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">Memoirs of the Poets,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">AND</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS<br /> +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED<br /> + +MODERN GAELIC BARDS.</span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="font-size: 50%;">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D.</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">F.S.A. SCOT.</span></h1> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">IN SIX VOLUMES;</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">VOL. IV.</p> + + + + +<p class="center">EDINBURGH:<br /> +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE,<br /> +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY.</p> + +<p class="center">M.DCCC.LVI.</p> + + +<p class='center'> +EDINBURGH:<br /> +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,<br /> +PAUL'S WORK.<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 50%;">TO</span><br /> +<br /> +FRANCIS BENNOCH, ESQ., F.S.A.,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">ONE OF THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING SCOTTISH SONG-WRITERS, +AND THE MUNIFICENT PATRON OF MEN OF LETTERS,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THIS FOURTH VOLUME</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">OF</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Scottish Minstrel<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">IS DEDICATED,<br /> +<br /> +WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ESTEEM,<br /> +<br /> +BY<br /> +<br /> +HIS VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT,<br /></span> +<br /> +CHARLES ROGERS.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2>THE INFLUENCE OF BURNS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">ON</span><br /> +<br /> +SCOTTISH POETRY AND SONG:<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">An Essay.</span></h2> + +<h3>BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN.</h3> + + +<p>It is exceedingly difficult to settle the exact place of, as well as to +compute the varied influences wielded by, a great original genius. Every +such mind borrows so much from his age and from the past, as well as +communicates so much from his own native stores, that it is difficult to +determine whether he be more the creature or the creator of his period. +But, ere determining the influence exerted by Burns on Scottish song and +poetry, it is necessary first to inquire what he owed to his +predecessors in the art, as well as to the general Scottish atmosphere +of thought, feeling, scenery and manners.</p> + +<p>First of all, Burns felt, in common with his <i>forbears</i> in the genealogy +of Scottish song, the inspiring influences breathing from our +mountain-land, and from the peculiar habits and customs of a "people +dwelling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> alone, and not reckoned among the nations." He was not born in +a district peculiarly distinguished for romantic beauty—we mean, in +comparison with some other regions of Scotland. The whole course of the +Ayr, as Currie remarks, is beautiful; and beautiful exceedingly the Brig +of Doon, especially as it now shines through the magic of the Master's +poetry. But it yields to many other parts of Scotland, some of which +Burns indeed afterwards saw, although his matured genius was not much +profited by the sight. Ayrshire—even with the peaks of Arran bounding +the view seaward—cannot vie with the scenery around Edinburgh; with +Stirling—its links and blue mountains; with "Gowrie's Carse, beloved of +Ceres, and Clydesdale to Pomona dear;" with Straths Tay and Earn, with +their two fine rivers flowing from finer lakes, through corn-fields, +woods, and rocks, to melt into each other's arms in music, near the fair +city of Perth; with the wilder and stormier courses of the Spey, the +Findhorn, and the Dee; with the romantic and song-consecrated precincts +of the Border; with the "bonnie hills o' Gallowa" and Dumfriesshire; or +with that transcendent mountain region stretching up along Lochs Linnhe, +Etive, and Leven—between the wild, torn ridges of Morven and +Appin—uniting Ben Cruachan to Ben Nevis, and including in its sweep the +lonely and magnificent Glencoe—a region unparalleled in wide Britain +for its quantity and variety of desolate grandeur, where every shape is +bold, every shape blasted, but all blasted at such different angles as +to produce endless diversity, and yet where the whole seems twisted into +a certain terrible harmony; not to speak of the glorious isles</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Placed far amid the melancholy main,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Iona, which, being interpreted, means the "Island of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> the Waves," the +rocky cradle of Scotland's Christianity; Staffa with grass growing above +the unspeakable grandeur which lurks in the cathedral-cave below, and +cows peacefully feeding over the tumultuous surge which forms the organ +of the eternal service; and Skye, with its Loch Coriskin, piercing like +a bright arrow the black breast of the shaggy hills of Cuchullin. Burns +had around him only the features of ordinary Scottish scenery, but from +these he drank in no common draught of inspiration; and how admirably +has he reproduced such simple objects as the "burn stealing under the +lang yellow broom," and the "milk-white thorn that scents the evening +gale," the "burnie wimplin' in its glen," and the</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rough bur-thistle spreadin' wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amang the bearded bear."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These objects constituted the poetry of his own fields; they were linked +with his own joys, loves, memories, and sorrows, and these he felt +impelled to enshrine in song. It may, indeed, be doubted if his cast of +mind would have led him to sympathise with bold and savage scenery. In +proof of this, we remember that, although he often had seen the gigantic +ridges of Arran looming through the purple evening air, or with the +"morning suddenly spread" upon their summer summits, or with premature +snow tinging their autumnal tops, he never once alludes to them, so far +as we remember, either in his poetry or prose; and that although he +spent a part of his youth on the wild smuggling coast of Carrick, he has +borrowed little of his imagery from the sea—none, we think, except the +two lines in the "Vision"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delighted with the dashing roar."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>His descriptions are almost all of inland scenery. Yet, that there was a +strong sense of the sublime in his mind is manifest from the lines +succeeding the above—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And when the North his fleecy store<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drove through the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw grim Nature's visage hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Struck thy young eye;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>as well as from the delight he expresses in walking beside a planting in +a windy day, and listening to the blast howling through the trees and +raving over the plain. Perhaps his mind was most alive to the sublimity +of <i>motion</i>, of agitation, of tumultuous energy, as exhibited in a +snow-storm, or in the "torrent rapture" of winds and waters, because +they seemed to sympathise with his own tempestuous passions, even as the +fierce Zanga, in the "Revenge," during a storm, exclaims—-</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I like this rocking of the battlements.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rage on, ye winds; burst clouds, and waters roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And suit the gloomy habit of my soul."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Probably Burns felt little admiration of the calm, colossal grandeur of +mountain-scenery, where there are indeed vestiges of convulsion and +agony, but where age has softened the storm into stillness, and where +the memory of former strife and upheaving only serves to deepen the +feeling of repose—vestiges which, like the wrinkles on the stern brow +of the Corsair,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Speak of passion, but of passion past."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With these records of bygone "majestic pains," on the other hand, the +genius of Milton and Wordsworth seemed made to sympathise; and the +former is never greater than standing on Niphates Mount with Satan,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> or +upon the "hill of Paradise the highest" with Michael, or upon the +"Specular Mount" with the Tempter and the Saviour; and the latter is +always most himself beside Skiddaw or Helvellyn. Byron professes vast +admiration for Lochnagar and the Alps; but the former is seen through +the enchanting medium of distance and childish memory; and among the +latter, his rhapsodies on Mont Blanc, and the cold "thrones of eternity" +around him, are nothing to his pictures of torrents, cataracts, +thunderstorms; in short, of all objects where unrest—the leading +feeling in <i>his</i> bosom—constitutes the principal element in <i>their</i> +grandeur. It is curious, by the way, how few good descriptions there +exist in poetry of views <i>from</i> mountains. Milton has, indeed, some +incomparable ones, but all imaginary—such, at least, as no actual +mountain on earth can command; but, in other poets, we at this moment +remember no good one. They seem always looking up <i>to</i>, not down from, +mountains. Wordsworth has given us, for example, no description of the +view from Skiddaw; and there does not exist, in any Scottish poetical +author, a first-rate picture of the view either from Ben Lomond, +Schehallion, Ben Cruachan, or Ben Nevis.</p> + +<p>After all, Burns was more influenced by some other characteristics of +Scotland than he was by its scenery. There was, first, its romantic +history. <i>That</i> had not then been separated, as it has since been, from +the mists of fable, but lay exactly in that twilight point of view best +adapted for arousing the imagination. To the eye of Burns, as it glared +back into the past, the history of his country seemed intensely +poetical—including the line of early kings who pass over the stage of +Boece' and Buchanan's story as their brethren over the magic glass of +Macbeth's witches—equally fantastic and equally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> false—the dark +tragedy of that terrible thane of Glammis and Cawdor—the deeds of +Wallace and Bruce—the battle of Flodden—and the sad fate of Queen +Mary; and from most of these themes he drew an inspiration which could +scarcely have been conceived to reside even in them. On Wallace, Bruce, +and Queen Mary, his mind seems to have brooded with peculiar +intensity—on the two former, because they were patriots; and on the +latter, because she was a beautiful woman; and his allusions to them +rank with the finest parts in his or any poetry. He seemed especially +adapted to be the poet-laureate of Wallace—a modern edition, somewhat +improved, of the broad, brawny, ragged bard who actually, it is +probable, attended in the train of Scotland's patriot hero, and whose +constant occupation it was to change the gold of his achievements into +the silver of song. Scottish manners, too, as well as history, exerted a +powerful influence on Scotland's peasant-poet. They were then far more +peculiar than now, and had only been faintly or partially represented by +previous poets. Thus, the christening of the <i>wean</i>, with all its +ceremony and all its mirth—Hallowe'en, with its "rude awe and +laughter"—the "Rockin'"—the "Brooze"—the Bridal—and a hundred other +intensely Scottish and very old customs, were all ripe and ready for the +poet, and many of them he has treated, accordingly, with consummate +felicity and genius. It seems almost as if the <i>final cause</i> of their +long-continued existence were connected with the appearance, in due +time, of one who was to extract their finest essence, and to embalm them +for ever in his own form of ideal representation.</p> + +<p>Burns, too, doubtless derived much from previous poets. This is a common +case, as we have before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> hinted, with even the most original. Had not +Shakspeare and Milton been "celestial thieves," their writings would +have been far less rich and brilliant than they are; although, had they +not possessed true originality, they would not have taken their present +lofty position in the world of letters. So, to say that Burns was much +indebted to his predecessors, and that he often imitated Ramsay and +Fergusson, and borrowed liberally from the old ballads, is by no means +to derogate from his genius. If he took, he gave with interest. The most +commonplace songs, after they had, as he said, "got a brushing" from his +hands, assumed a totally different aspect. Each ballad was merely a +piece of canvas, on which he inscribed his inimitable paintings. +Sometimes even by a single word he proclaimed the presence of the +master-poet, and by a single stroke exalted a daub into a picture. His +imitations of Ramsay and Fergusson far surpass the originals, and remind +you of Landseer's dogs, which seem better than the models from which he +drew. When a king accepts a fashion from a subject, he glorifies it, and +renders it the rage. It was in this royal style that Burns treated the +inferior writers who had gone before him; and although he highly admired +and warmly praised them, he must have felt a secret sense of his own +vast superiority.</p> + +<p>We come now shortly to speak of the influence he has exerted on Scottish +poetry. This was manifold. In the first place, a number were encouraged +by his success to collect and publish their poems, although few of them +possessed much merit; and he complained that some were a wretched +"spawn" of mediocrity, which the sunshine of his fame had warmed and +brought forth prematurely. Lapraik, for instance, was induced by the +praise of Burns to print an edition of his poems,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> which turned out a +total failure. There was only one good piece in it all, and <i>that</i> was +pilfered from an old magazine. Secondly, Burns exerted an inspiring +influence on some men of real genius, who, we verily believe, would, but +for Burns, have never written, or, at least, written so well—such as +Alexander Wilson, Tannahill, Macneil, Hogg, and the numerous members of +the "Whistle-Binkie" school. In all these writers we trace the influence +of the large "lingering star" of the genius of Burns. "Wattie and Meg," +by Wilson, when it first appeared anonymously, was attributed to Burns. +Tannahill is, in much of his poetry, an echo of Burns, although in +song-writing he is a real original. Macneil was roused by Burns' praises +of whisky to give a <i>per contra</i>, in his "Scotland's Scaith; or, the +History of Will and Jean." And although the most of Hogg's poetry is +entirely original, we find the influence of Burns distinctly marked in +some of his songs—such as the "Kye come Hame."</p> + +<p>But there is a wider and more important light in which to regard the +influence of our great national Bard. He first fully revealed the +interest and the beauty which lie in the simpler forms of Scottish +scenery, he darted light upon the peculiarities of Scottish manners, and +he opened the warm heart of his native land. Scotland, previous to +Burns' poetry, was a spring shut up and a fountain sealed.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She lay like some unkenned-of isle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ayont New Holland."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The glories of her lakes, her glens, her streams, her mountains, the +hardy courage, the burning patriotism, the trusty attachments, the +loves, the games, the superstitions, and the devotion of her +inhabitants, were all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> unknown and unsuspected as themes for song till +Burns took them up, and less added glory than shewed the glory that was +in them, and shewed also that they opened up a field nearly +inexhaustible. Writers of a very high order were thus attracted to +Scotland, not merely as their native country, but as a theme for poetry; +and, while disdaining to imitate Burns' poetry slavishly, and some of +them not writing in verse at all, they found in Scottish subjects ample +scope for the exercise of their genius; and in some measure to his +influence we may attribute the fictions of Mrs Hamilton and Miss +Ferrier, Scott's poems and novels, Galt's, Lockhart's, Wilson's, +Delta's, and Aird's tales and poetry, and much of the poetry of +Campbell, who, although he never writes in Scotch, has embalmed, in his +"Lochiel's Warning," "Glenara," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," some +interesting subjects connected with Scotland, and has, in "Gertrude of +Wyoming," and in the "Pilgrim of Glencoe," made striking allusions to +Scottish scenery. That the progress of civilisation, apart from Burns, +would have ultimately directed the attention of cultivated men to a +country so peculiar and poetical as Scotland cannot be doubted; but the +rise of Burns hastened the result, as being itself a main element in +propelling civilisation and diffusing genuine taste. His dazzling +success, too, excited emulation in the breasts of our men of genius, as +well as tended to exalt in their eyes a country which had produced such +a stalwart and gifted son. We may, indeed, apply to the feeling of pride +which animates Scotchmen, and particularly Scotchmen in other lands, at +the thought of Burns being their countryman, the famous lines of +Dryden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Men met each other with erected look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The steps were higher that they took;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each to congratulate his friends made haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The poor man, says Wilson, as he speaks of Burns, always holds up his +head and regards you with an elated look. Scotland has become more +venerable, more beautiful, more glorious in the eyes of her children, +and a fitter theme for poetry, since the feet of Burns rested on her +fields, and since his ardent eyes glowed with enthusiasm as he saw her +scenery, and as he sung her praise; while to many in foreign parts she +is chiefly interesting as being (what a portion of her has long been +called) the Land of Burns.</p> + +<p>The real successors of Burns, it is thus manifest, were not Tannahill or +Macneil, but Sir Walter Scott, Campbell, Aird, Delta, Galt, Allan +Cunningham, and Professor Wilson. To all of these, Burns, along with +Nature, united in teaching the lessons of simplicity, of brawny +strength, of clear common sense, and of the propriety of staying at home +instead of gadding abroad in search of inspiration. All of these have +been, like Burns, more or less intensely Scottish in their subjects and +in their spirit.</p> + +<p>That Burns' errors as a man have exerted a pernicious influence on many +since, is, we fear, undeniable. He had been taught, by the lives of the +"wits," to consider aberration, eccentricity, and "devil-may-careism" as +prime badges of genius, and he proceeded accordingly to astonish the +natives, many of whom, in their turn, set themselves to copy his faults. +But when we subtract some half-dozen pieces, either coarse in language +or equivocal in purpose, the influence of his poetry may be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> considered +good. (We of course say nothing here of the volume called the "Merry +Muses," still extant to disgrace his memory.) It is doubtful if his +"Willie brew'd a peck o' Maut" ever made a drunkard, but it is certain +that his "Cottar's Saturday Night" has converted sinners, edified the +godly, and made some erect family altars. It has been worth a thousand +homilies. And, taking his songs as a whole, they have done much to stir +the flames of pure love, of patriotism, of genuine sentiment, and of a +taste for the beauties of nature. And it is remarkable that all his +followers and imitators have, almost without exception, avoided his +faults while emulating his beauties; and there is not a sentence in +Scott, or Campbell, or Aird, or Delta, and not many in Wilson or Galt, +that can be charged with indelicacy, or even coarseness. So that, on the +whole, we may assert that, whatever evil he did by the example of his +life, he has done very little—but, on the contrary, much good, both +artistically and morally, by the influence of his poetry.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<ul class="TOC"><li><a href="#HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL">HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN">The wild glen sae green,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SCOTIAS_THISTLE">Scotia's thistle,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS">The land of gallant hearts,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE">The yellow locks o' Charlie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN">We 'll meet yet again,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND">Our ain native land,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG">The Grecian war-song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#FLORAS_LAMENT">Flora's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL">When the glen all is still,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SCOTLAND_YET6">Scotland yet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE">The minstrel's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE">My own land and loved one,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD">The bower of the wild,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID">The crook and plaid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER">The minstrel's bower,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING">When the star of the morning,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM">Though all fair was that bosom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE">Would that I were where wild-woods wave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND">O tell me what sound,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OUR_MARY7">Our Mary,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS">MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8">Sweet bard of Ettrick's Glen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#YOUNG_JAMIE9">Young Jamie, </a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE">Heard ye the bagpipe?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BRUCES_ADDRESS">Bruce's address,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION">Removed from vain fashion,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN">When shall we meet again?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JAMES_KING">JAMES KING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST">The lake is at rest,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW">Life 's like the dew,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ISOBEL_PAGAN">ISOBEL PAGAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_MITCHELL">JOHN MITCHELL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#BEAUTY">Beauty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#TO_THE_EVENING_STAR">To the evening star,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME">O waft me to the fairy clime,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID">The love-sick maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_JAMIESON">ALEXANDER JAMIESON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11">The maid who wove,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE">A sigh and a smile,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_GOLDIE">JOHN GOLDIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM">And can thy bosom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SWEETS_THE_DEW">Sweet 's the dew,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_POLLOK">ROBERT POLLOK,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_AFRICAN_MAID">The African maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#J_C_DENOVAN">J. C. DENOVAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE">Oh! Dermot, dear loved one,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_IMLAH">JOHN IMLAH,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#KATHLEEN">Kathleen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HIELAN_HEATHER">Hielan' heather,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND">Farewell to Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE">The rose of Seaton Vale,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#KATHERINE_AND_DONALD">Katherine and Donald,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A">Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a',</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_GATHERING12">The gathering,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MARY">Mary,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS">Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_TWEEDIE">JOHN TWEEDIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE">Saw ye my Annie?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#THOMAS_ATKINSON">THOMAS ATKINSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#MARY_SHEARER">Mary Shearer,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#WILLIAM_GARDINER">WILLIAM GARDINER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15">Oh! Scotland's hills for me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_HOGG">ROBERT HOGG,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG">Queen of fairy's song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES">When autumn comes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BONNIE_PEGGIE_O">Bonnie Peggie, O!</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#A_WISH_BURST">A wish burst,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18">I love the merry moonlight,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19">Oh, what are the chains of love made of?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_WRIGHT">JOHN WRIGHT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD">An autumnal cloud,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAIDEN_FAIR">The maiden fair,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN">The old blighted thorn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_WRECKED_MARINER">The wrecked mariner,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOSEPH_GRANT">JOSEPH GRANT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET">The blackbird's hymn is sweet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LOVES_ADIEU">Love's adieu,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#DUGALD_MOORE">DUGALD MOORE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#RISE_MY_LOVE">Rise, my love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JULIA">Julia,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LUCYS_GRAVE">Lucy's grave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE">The forgotten brave,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_FIRST_SHIP">The first ship,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WEEP_NOT">Weep not,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#TO_THE_CLYDE">To the Clyde,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON">REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_ARABY_MAID">The Araby maid,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAIDENS_VOW">The maiden's vow,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_LOVE_THE_SEA">I love the sea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#GEORGE_ALLAN">GEORGE ALLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21">Is your war-pipe asleep?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET">I will think of thee yet,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE">Lassie, dear lassie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22">When I look far down on the valley below me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23">I will wake my harp when the shades of even,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#THOMAS_BRYDSON">THOMAS BRYDSON,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT">All lovely and bright,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY">CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY">She died in beauty,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS">The Scottish blue bells,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_MILLER">ROBERT MILLER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#WHERE_ARE_THEY">Where are they?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS">Lay of the hopeless,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_HUME">ALEXANDER HUME,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE">My wee, wee wife,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#O_POVERTY">O, poverty!</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#NANNY">Nanny,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_BESSIE">My Bessie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MENIE_HAY">Menie Hay,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL">I 've wander'd on the sunny hill,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_YEARS_HAE_COME">Oh! years hae come,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME">My mountain hame,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#THOMAS_SMIBERT">THOMAS SMIBERT,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT">The Scottish widow's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25">The hero of St. John D'Acre,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES">Oh! bonnie are the howes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA">Oh! say na you maun gang awa,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_BETHUNE">JOHN BETHUNE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#WITHERD_FLOWERS">Withered flowers,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#A_SPRING_SONG">A spring song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALLAN_STEWART">ALLAN STEWART,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_SEA-BOY">The sea boy,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MENIE_LORN">Menie Lorn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER">The young soldier,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LAND_I_LOVE">The land I love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_L_MALONE">ROBERT L. MALONE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND">The thistle of Scotland,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY">Hame is aye hamely,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#PETER_STILL">PETER STILL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#JEANIES_LAMENT">Jeanie's lament,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME">Ye needna be courtin' at me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME">The bucket for me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ROBERT_NICOLL">ROBERT NICOLL,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#ORDE_BRAES">Ordé Braes,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM">The Muir o' Gorse and Broom,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS">The bonnie Hieland hills,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH">The bonnie rowan bush,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE">Bonnie Bessie Lee,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING">ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS">The wild rose blooms,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28">ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE">The Wells o' Wearie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_LAING">ALEXANDER LAING,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#AE_HAPPY_HOUR">Ae happy hour,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME">Lass gin ye wad lo'e me,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#LASS_OF_LOGIE">Lass of Logie,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_AIN_WIFE">My ain wife,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE">The maid o' Montrose,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN">Jean of Aberdeen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_HOPELESS_EXILE">The hopeless exile,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#GLEN-NA-HALBYN29">Glen-na-H'Albyn,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ALEXANDER_CARLILE">ALEXANDER CARLILE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30">Wha 's at the window,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES">My brothers are the stately trees,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN">The Vale of Killean,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_NEVAY">JOHN NEVAY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER">The emigrant's love-letter,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#THOMAS_LYLE">THOMAS LYLE,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#KELVIN_GROVE">Kelvin Grove,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_TRYSTING_HOUR">The trysting hour,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#HARVEST_SONG34">Harvest song,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JAMES_HOME">JAMES HOME,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#MARY_STEEL">Mary Steel,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN">Oh, hast thou forgotten?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART">The maid of my heart,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT">Song of the emigrant,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35">This lassie o' mine,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JAMES_TELFER">JAMES TELFER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36">Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me?</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA">I maun gae over the sea,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></span></li></ul></li></ul> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.</h3> + + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#EVAN_MACLACHLAN">EVAN MACLACHLAN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#A_MELODY_OF_LOVE">A melody of love,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN">The mavis of the clan,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#JOHN_BROWN">JOHN BROWN,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY">The sisters of Dunolly,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#CHARLES_STEWART_DD">CHARLES STEWART, D.D.,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL">Luineag—a love carol,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li> </li> + +<li><a href="#ANGUS_FLETCHER">ANGUS FLETCHER,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li><ul class="TOCSub"><li> <a href="#THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL">The Clachan of Glendaruel,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></span></li> +<li> <a href="#THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN">The lassie of the glen,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><hr style="width: 45%;" /></li> + + +<li><a href="#GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY,</a> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></span></li></ul> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE<br /> +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL</h2> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL" id="HENRY_SCOTT_RIDDELL"></a>HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL.</h2> + + +<p>Henry Scott Riddell, one of the most powerful and pleasing of the living +national song-writers, was born on the 23d September 1798, at Sorbie, in +the Vale of Ewes—a valley remarkable for its pastoral beauty, lying in +the south-east of Dumfriesshire. His father was a shepherd, well +acquainted with the duties of his profession, and a man of strong though +uneducated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr +Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become +able to traverse both <i>burn</i> and <i>brae</i>, hill and glen, I frequently +returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity. +We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms +'<i>an out-bye herding</i>,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called +Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this +remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors, +ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter +Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was +one whom I have good reason to remember—the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I +forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become +older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of +heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and +pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men +naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise +few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of +recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural +roof—the shepherd's <i>bien</i> and happy home. This was about the time when +Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the +circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in +his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read +them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these +meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to +make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore +the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to +deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and +self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own +attractions, and can subsist on its own resources.</p> + +<p>"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border +ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and +careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung +twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his +family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk, +and there for one year occupied a farm belonging to Thomas Beattie, Esq. +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> Muckledale, and who, when my father was in Ewes, had been his +friend. My employment here was, along with a younger brother, to tend +the cows. In the winter season we entered the Corrie school, but had +only attended a short while when we both took fever, and our attendance +was not resumed. At Langshawburn, my father for several winters hired a +person into his house, who taught his family and that of a neighbouring +shepherd. In consequence of our distance from any place of regular +education, I had also been boarded at several schools—at Devington in +Eskdale, Roberton on Borthwick Water, and Newmill on the Teviot, at each +of which, however, I only remained a short time, making, I suppose, such +progress as do other boys who love the football better than the +spelling-book.</p> + +<p>"At the Whitsunday term my father relinquished his farm, and returned to +his former employment in the Forest of Ettrick, under Mr Scott of +Deloraine, to whom he had been a shepherd in his younger days. With this +family, indeed, and that of Mr Borthwick, then of Sorbie, and late of +Hopesrigg, all his years since he could wear the plaid were passed, with +the exception of the one just mentioned. It was at Deloraine that I +commenced the shepherd's life in good earnest. Through the friendly +partiality of our employer, I was made principal shepherd at an age +considerably younger than it is usual for most others to be intrusted +with so extensive a <i>hirsel</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> as was committed to my care. I had by +this time, however, served what might be regarded as a regular +apprenticeship to the employment, which almost all sons of shepherds do, +whether they adhere to herding sheep in after-life or not. Seasons and +emergencies not seldom occur when the aid which the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> boy can lend +often proves not much less availing than that of the grown-up man. +Education in this line consequently commences early. A knowledge of the +habits, together with the proper treatment of sheep, and therefore of +pastoral affairs in general, 'grows with the growth' of the individual, +and becomes, as it were, a portion of his nature. I had thus assisted my +father more or less all along; and when a little older, though still a +mere boy, I went for a year to a friend at Glencotha, in Holmswater, as +assistant shepherd or lamb-herd. Another year in the same capacity I was +with a shepherd in Wester Buccleuch. It was at Glencotha that I first +made a sustained attempt to compose in rhyme. When in Wester Buccleuch +my life was much more lonely, and became more tinged with thoughts and +feelings of a romantic cast. Owing to the nature of the stock kept on +the farm, it was my destiny day after day to be out among the mountains +during the whole summer season from early morn till the fall of even. +But the long summer days, whether clear or cloudy, never seemed long to +me—I never wearied among the wilds. My flocks being <i>hirsled</i>, as it is +expressed, required vigilance: but, if this was judiciously maintained, +the task was for the most part an easy and pleasant one. I know not if +it be worth while to mention that the hills and glens on which my charge +pastured at this period formed a portion of what in ancient times was +termed the Forest of Rankleburn. The names of places in the district, +though there were no other more intelligible traditions, might serve to +shew that it is a range of country to which both kings and nobles had +resorted. If from morning to night I was away far from the homes of +living men, I was not so in regard to those of the dead. Where a lesser +stream from the wild uplands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> comes down and meets the Rankleburn, a +church or chapel once stood, surrounded, like most other consecrated +places of the kind, by a burial-ground. There tradition says that five +dukes, some say kings, lie buried under a marble stone. I had heard that +Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, had, a number of years previously, made a +pilgrimage to this place, for the purpose of discovering the sepulchres +of the great and nearly forgotten dead, but without success. This, +however, tended, in my estimation, to confirm the truth of the +tradition; and having enough of time and opportunity, I made many a +toilsome effort of a similar nature, with the same result. With hills +around, wild and rarely trodden, and the ceaseless yet ever-varying +tinkling of its streams, together with the mysterious echoes which the +least stir seemed to awaken, the place was not only lonely, but also +creative of strange apprehensions, even in the hours of open day. It is +strange that the heart will fear the dead, which, perhaps, never feared +the living. Though I could muster and maintain courage to dig +perseveringly among the dust of the long-departed when the sun shone in +the sky, yet when the shadow of night was coming, or had come down upon +the earth, the scene was sacredly secure from all inroad on my part: and +to make the matter sufficiently intelligible, I may further mention +that, some years afterwards, when I took a fancy one evening to travel +eight miles to meet some friends in a shepherd's lone muirland dwelling, +I made the way somewhat longer for the sake of evading the impressive +loneliness of this locality. I had no belief that I should meet accusing +spirits of the dead; but I disliked to be troubled in waging war with +those <i>eery</i> feelings which are the offspring of superstitious +associations.</p> + +<p>"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> get a book which +was not already threadbare. I had a few chisels, and files, and other +tools, with which I took pleasure in constructing, of wood or bone, +pieces of mechanism; and I kept a diary in which I wrote many minute and +trivial matters, as well, no doubt as I then thought, many a sage +observation. In this, likewise, I wrote rude rhymes on local +occurrences. But I have anticipated a little. On returning home from +Glencotha, and two years before I went to Buccleuch, a younger brother +and I had still another round at herding cattle, which pastured in a +park near by my father's cottage. Our part was to protect a meadow which +formed a portion of it; and the task being easy to protect that for +which the cattle did not much care, nor yet could skaithe greatly though +they should trespass upon it, we were far too idle not to enter upon and +prosecute many a wayward and unprofitable ploy. Our predilections for +taming wild birds—the wilder by nature the better—seemed boundless; +and our family of hawks, and owls, and ravens was too large not to cost +us much toil, anxiety, and even sorrow. We fished in the Ettrick and the +lesser streams. These last suited our way of it best, since we generally +fished with staves and plough-spades—thus far, at least, honourably +giving the objects of our pursuit a fair chance of escape. When the hay +had been won, we went to Ettrick school, at which we continued +throughout the winter, travelling to and from it daily, though it lay at +the distance of five miles. This we, in good weather, accomplished +conveniently enough; but it proved occasionally a serious and toilsome +task through wind and rain, or keen frost and deep snow, when winter +days and the mountain blasts came on.</p> + +<p>"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the +Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> <i>out-bye herding</i>, under the same +employer. In the winter season either I or some other of the family +assisted him; but so often as the weather was fine, we went to a school +instituted by a farmer in the neighbourhood for behoof of his own +family. When by and by I went to herd the <i>hirsel</i> which my father +formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and +was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another <i>hirsel</i> +lying contiguous, and which my elder brother herded, was for the summer +season of the year added to mine, so that this already large was made +larger; but exempted as I was from attending to aught else but my flock, +I had pleasant days, for I loved the wilds among which it had become +alike my destiny and duty to walk at will, and 'view the sheep thrive +bonnie.' The hills of Ettrick are generally wild and green, and those of +them on which I daily wandered, musing much and writing often, were as +high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality +arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the +most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy +thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him. +Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of +bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the +ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On +the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the +majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul, +that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so +vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always +enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In numbers fearless all as unconfined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild as wailings of the desert wind.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains, +and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results +of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog—his constant +companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would +little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to +pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the +loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the +while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I +came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at +any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow +these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an +epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'My early years were pass'd far on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills of Ettrick wild and lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through summer sheen and winter shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bold enthusiastic glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sung rude strains of minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which mingling with died o'er the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unheeded as the plover's wail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft where the waving rushes shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shelter frail around my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weening, though not through hopes of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fix on these more lasting claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd there secure in rustic scroll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wayward fancies of the soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even where yon lofty rocks arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The colder cone of drifted wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I noted them afar from ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till ink would freeze within the pen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deep the spell which bound the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the bard's undying art—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rapt the charm that still beguiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The minstrel of the mountains wild.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The ancients had a maxim—'Revenge is sweet.' In rural, as well as in +other life, there are things said and done which are more or less +ungenerous. These, if at any time they came my way, I repelled as best I +might. But I did not stop here; whether such matters, when occurring, +might concern myself as an individual or not, I took it upon me, as if I +had been a 'learned judge,' to write satires upon such persons as I knew +or conceived to have spoken or acted in aught contrary to good manners. +These squibs were written through the impulse of offended feeling, or +the stirrings of that injudicious spirit which sometimes prompts a man +to exercise a power merely because he possesses it. They were still, +after all, only as things of private experiment, and not intended ever +to go forth to the world—though it happened otherwise. I usually +carried a lot of these writings in my hat, and by and by, unlike most +other young authors, I got a publisher unsought for. This was the wind, +which, on a wild day, swept my hat from my head, and tattering its +contents asunder from their fold, sent them away over hill and dale like +a flock of wild fowl. I recovered some where they had halted in bieldy +places; others of them went further, and fell into other hands, and +particularly into those of a neighbour, who, a short while previously, +had played an unmanly part relating to a sheep and the march which ran +between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> us. He found his unworthy proceeding boldly discussed, in an +epistle which, I daresay, no other carrier would ever have conveyed to +him but the unblushing mountain blast. He complained to others, whom he +found more or less involved in his own predicament, and the thing went +disagreeably abroad. My master, through good taste and feeling, was +vexed, as I understood, that I should have done anything that gave +ground for accusation, though he did not mention the subject to myself; +but my father, some days after the mischief had commenced, came to me +upon the hill, and not in very good humour, disapproved of my imprudent +conduct. As for the consequences of this untoward event, it proved the +mean of revealing what I had hitherto concealed—procuring for me a sort +of local popularity little to be envied. I made the best improvement of +it, as I then thought, that lay in my power—by writing a satire upon +myself.</p> + +<p>"I continued shepherd at Deloraine two years, and then went in the same +capacity to the late Mr Knox of Todrigg; and if at the former place I +had been well and happy, here I was still more so. His son William, the +poet of 'The Lonely Hearth,' paid me much friendly attention. He +commended my verses, and augured my success as one of the song-writers +of my native land. In those days, I did not write with the most remote +view to publication. My aim did not extend beyond the gratification of +hearing my mountain strains sung by lad or lass, as time and place might +favour. And when, in the dewy gloaming of a summer eve, returning home +from the hill, and 'the kye were in the loan,' I did hear this much, I +thought, no doubt, that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The swell and fall of these wild tones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were worth the pomp of a thousand thrones.'<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>"William Crozier, author of 'The Cottage Muse,' was also my neighbour +and friend at Todrigg, during the summer part of the year; and even at +this hour I feel delight in recalling to memory the happy harmony of +thought and feeling that blended with and enhanced the genial sunshine +of those departed days. I rejoice to dwell upon those remote and +rarely-trodden pastoral solitudes, among which my lot in the early years +of life was so continually cast; few may well conceive how distinctly I +can recall them. Memory, which seems often to constitute the mind +itself, more, perhaps, than any other faculty, can set them so brightly +before me, as if they were painted on a dark midnight sky with brushes +dipped in the essence of living light. To appreciate thoroughly the +grandeur of the mountain solitudes, it is necessary to have dwelt among +the scenes, and to have looked upon them at every season of the +ever-changing year. They are fresh with solemn beauty, when bathed in +the deep dews of a summer morning; or in autumn, if you have attained to +the border of the mystery which has overhung your path, and therefore to +a station high enough for the survey, all that meets the eye shall be as +a dream of poetry itself. The deep folds of white vapour fill up glen +and hollow, till the summit of the mountains, near and far away—far as +sight itself can penetrate—are only seen tinged with the early radiance +of the sun, the whole so combined as to appear a limitless plain of +variegated marble, peaceful as heaven, and solemnly serene as eternity. +What Winter writes with his frozen finger I need not state. When the +venerable old man, Gladstanes, perished among the stormy blasts of these +wilds, I was one of about threescore of men who for three days traversed +them in search of the dead. Then was the scenery of the mountains +impressive, much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> beyond what can well be spoken. The bridal that loses +the bride through some wayward freak of the fair may be sad enough; so +also the train, in its dark array, that conveys the familiar friend to +the chamber where the light of nature cannot come. But in this latter +case, the hearts that still beat, necessarily know that their part is +resignation, and suspense and anxiety mingle not in the mood of the +living, as it relates to the dead; but otherwise is it with those who +seem already constituting the funeral train of one who should have +been—yet who is not there to be buried.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The feeling is nameless that makes us unglad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a strange, wild dismayment it brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet hath no match in the solemn and sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Desolation of men and of things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The hill-foxes howl'd round the wanderer's way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his aim and his pathway were lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And effort has then oft too much of dismay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To pay well the toil it may cost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fate has its privilege, death has its power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is fearful where'er it may fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But worse it may seem 'mong the blasts of the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all that approaches portends to devour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor fixes till first it appal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'No mercy obtains in the tempests that rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the sky-frozen elements fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there comes no hand that is willing to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soothe, till the spirit be fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the storms round the thrones of the wilderness break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the frail in the solitude cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And howl in their strength and impatience to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their course to commix with the roar of the lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where it flings forth its foam on the blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Lo! 'neath where the heath hangs so dark o'er yon peak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another of Adam lay lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bield could not shelter the weary and weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the strife of the tempest o'erthrown.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No raven had fed, and the hill-fox had fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If there he had yet come abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stillness reign'd deep o'er his cold moorland bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which came down in the power of the sleep of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the spirit return'd to its God.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These are a few out of many more lines written on this subject, which at +the time was so deeply interesting to mind and heart."</p> + +<p>Mr Riddell here states that his poetical style of composition about this +period underwent a considerable change. He laid aside his wayward wit +for serious sentiment, an improvement which he ascribes to his +admiration of the elegant strains of his friend, young Knox.</p> + +<p>"My fortune in life," he proceeds, "had not placed me within the reach +of a library, and I had read almost none; and although I had attempted +to write, I merely followed the course which instinct pointed out. Need +I state further, that if in these days I employed my mind and pen among +the mountains as much as possible, my thoughts also often continued to +pursue the same practice, even when among others, by the 'farmer's +ingle.' I retired to rest when others retired, but if not outworn by +matters of extra toil, the ardour of thought, through love of the poet's +undying art, would, night after night for many hours, debar the inroads +of sleep. The number of schools which I have particularised as having +attended may occasion some surprise at the deficiency of my scholarship. +For this, various reasons are assignable, all of which, however, hinge +upon these two formidable obstacles—the inconveniency of local +position, and the thoughtless inattention of youth. In remote country +places, long and rough ways, conjoined not unfrequently with wild +weather, require that children, before they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> can enter school, be pretty +well grown up; consequently, they quit it the sooner. They are often +useful at home in the summer season, or circumstances may destine them +to hire away. Among these inconveniences, one serious drawback is, that +the little education they do get is rarely obtained continuously, and +regular progress is interrupted. Much of what has been gained is lost +during the intervals of non-attendance, and every new return to the book +is little else than a new beginning. So was it with me. At the time when +my father hired a teacher into his house, it was for what is termed the +winter quarter, and I was then somewhat too young to be tied down to the +regular routine of school discipline; and if older when boarded away, +the other obstruction to salutary progress began to operate grievously +against me. I acquired bit by bit the common education—reading, +writing, and arithmetic. So far as I remember, grammar was not much +taught at any of these schools, and the spelling of words was very +nearly as little attended to as the meaning which they are appointed to +convey was explained or sought after.</p> + +<p>"But the non-understanding of words is less to be marvelled at than that +a man should not understand himself. At this hour I cannot conceive how +I should have been so recklessly careless about learning and books when +at school, and yet so soon after leaving it seriously inclined towards +them. I see little else for it than to suppose that boys who are bred +where they have no companions are prone to make the most of +companionship when once attained to. And then, in regard to books, as of +these I rarely got more than what might serve as a whet to the appetite, +I might have the desire of those whose longings after what they would +obtain are increased by the difficulties which interpose between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> them +and the possession. One book which in school I sometimes got a glance +of, I would have given anything to possess: this was a small volume +entitled, 'The Three Hundred Animals.'</p> + +<p>"I cannot forbear mentioning that, when at Deloraine, I was greatly +advantaged by an old woman, called Mary Hogg, whose cottage stood on an +isolated corner of the lands on which my flock pastured. Her husband had +been a shepherd, who, many years previous to this period, perished in a +snow-storm. In her youth she had opportunities of reading history, and +other literature, and she did not only remember well what she had read, +but could give a distinct and interesting account of it. In going my +wonted rounds, few days there were on which I did not call and listen to +her intelligent conversation. She was a singularly good woman—a sincere +Christian; and the books which she lent me were generally of a religious +kind, such as the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the 'Holy War;' but here I +also discovered a romance, the first which I had ever seen. It was +printed in the Gothic letter, and entitled 'Prissimus, the Renowned +Prince of Bohemia.' Particular scenes and characters in 'Ivanhoe' +reminded me strikingly of those which I had formerly met with in this +old book of black print. And I must mention that few books interested me +more than 'Bailey's Dictionary.' Day after day I bore it to the +mountains, and I have an impression that it was a more comprehensive +edition of the work than I have ever since been able to meet with.</p> + +<p>"At Todrigg my reading was extended; and having begun more correctly to +appreciate what I did read, the intention which I had sometimes +entertained gathered strength: this was to make an effort to obtain a +regular education. The consideration of the inadequacy of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> means had +hitherto bridled my ambition; but having herded as a regular shepherd +nearly three years, during which I had no occasion to spend much of my +income, my prospects behoved to be a little more favourable. It was in +this year that the severest trial which had yet crossed my path had to +be sustained. The death of my father overthrew my happier mood; at the +same time, instead of subduing my secret aim, the event rather +strengthened my determination. My portion of my father's worldly effects +added something considerable to my own gainings; and, resigning my +situation, I bade farewell to the crook and plaid. I went to Biggar, in +Clydesdale, where I knew the schoolmaster was an approved classical +scholar. Besides, my Glencotha reminiscences tended to render me partial +to this part of the world, and in the village I had friends with whom I +could suitably reside. The better to insure attention to what I was +undertaking, I judged it best to attend school during the usual hours. A +learner was already there as old in years, and nearly as stout in form, +as myself, so that I escaped from the wonderment which usually attaches +to singularity much more comfortably than I anticipated. There were also +two others in the school, who had formerly gone a considerable way in +the path of classic lore, and had turned aside, but who, now repenting +of their apostasy, returned to their former faith. These were likewise +well grown up, and I may state that they are now both eminent as +scholars and public men. The individual first mentioned and I sat in the +master's desk, which he rarely, if ever, occupied himself; and although +we were diligent upon the whole, yet occasionally our industry and +conduct as learners were far from deserving approbation. To me the +confinement was frequently irksome and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> oppressive, especially when the +days were bright with the beauty of sunshine. There were ways, woods, +and even wilds, not far apart from the village, which seemed eternally +wooing the step to retirement, and the mind to solitary contemplation. +Some verses written in this school have been preserved, which will +convey an idea of the cast of feeling which produced them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Discontented and uncheery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this noise and learning weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half my mind, to madness driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woos the lore by nature given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong fair fields and flowing fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely glens and lofty mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charm'd with nature's wildest grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lately wont was I to wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wheresoever fancy led me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came no barrier to impede me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still from early morn till even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the light of earth and heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musing on whatever graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Livelier scenes or lonelier places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a nameless pleasure found me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living, like a dream, around me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, then, may I be contented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus confined and thus tormented!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Still, oh! still 'twere lovelier rather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be roaming through the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where flow'd the stream so glassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong its flowers and margins mossy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the flocks at noon their path on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to feed by birk and hawthorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or upon the mountain lofty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seated where the wind blew softly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my faithful friend beside me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my plaid from sun to hide me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the volume oped before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would trace the minstrel's story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mine own wild harp awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the deep green glens of braken,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Free and fearlessly revealing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the soul of native feeling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"''Stead of that eternal humming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the ear for ever coming—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humming of these thoughtless beings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their restless pranks and pleaings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sore-provoked preceptor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roaring, "Silence!"—O'er each quarter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence comes, as o'er the valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all rioted so gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sudden bursting thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overpowers with awe and wonder—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till again begins the fuss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Master, Jock's aye nippin' us!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could hear the fountains flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light hill-breeze was blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild-wing'd plover wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the brow of heaven sailing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleating flocks and skylarks singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echo still to echo ringing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds still, still so wont to waken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no note of them is taken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet which seem to lend assistance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the blessing of existence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Who shall trow thee wise or witty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lore of "the Eternal City,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or derive delight and pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the blood-stain'd deeds of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus bewildering his senses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong these cases, moods, and tenses?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the wrong-placed words arranging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever in their finals changing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out and in with hic and hockings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a loom for working stockings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Latin lords and Grecian heroes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye gods, in mercy spare us!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may mortals be contented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus confined and thus tormented!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"My teacher, the late Richard Scott, was an accurate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> classical scholar, +which perhaps accounts for his being, unlike some others of his +profession, free from pedantry. He was kind-hearted and somewhat +disposed to indolence, loving more to converse with one of my years than +to instruct him in languages. He had seen a good deal of the world and +its ways, and I learned much from him besides Greek and Latin. We were +great friends and companions, and rarely separate when both of us were +unengaged otherwise.</p> + +<p>"I bore aloof from making many acquaintances; yet, ere long, I became +pretty extensively acquainted with the people of the place. It went +abroad that I was a bard from the mountains, and the rumour affixed to +me a popularity which I did not enjoy. A party of young men in the +village had prepared themselves to act 'the Douglas Tragedy,' and wished +a song, which was to be sung between this and the farce. The air was of +their own fixing, and which, in itself, was wild and beautiful; but, +unfortunately, like many others of our national airs possessed of these +qualities, it was of a measure such as rendered it difficult to write +words for. Since precluded from introducing poetic sentiment, I +substituted a dramatic plot, and being well sung by alternate voices, +the song was well received, and so my fame was enhanced.</p> + +<p>"It was about this time that I wrote 'The Crook and Plaid'—not by +request, but with the intention of supplanting a song, I think of +English origin, called 'The Plough-boy,' and of a somewhat questionable +character. 'The Crook and Plaid' accomplished the end intended, and soon +became popular throughout the land. So soon as I got a glimpse of the +Roman language, I began to make satisfactory progress in its +acquisition. But I daily wrote more or less in my old way—now also +embracing in my attempts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> prose as well as verse. I wrote a Border +Romance. This was more strongly than correctly expressed. Hogg, who took +the trouble of reading it, gave me his opinion, by saying that there +were more rawness and more genius in it than in any work he had seen. +It, sometime afterwards, had also the honour of being read—for I never +offered it for publication—by one who felt much interest in the +characters and plot—Professor Wilson's lady—who, alas! went too early +to where he himself also now is; lost, though not to fond recollection, +yet to love and life below. I contributed some papers to the <i>Clydesdale +Magazine</i>, and I sent a sort of poetic tale to the editor, telling him +to do with it whatever he might think proper. He published it +anonymously, and it was sold about Clydesdale.</p> + +<p>"My intention had been to qualify myself for the University, and, +perhaps in regard to Latin and Greek acquirements, I might have +proceeded thither earlier than I ventured to do; but having now made +myself master of my more immediate tasks, I took more liberty. A +gentleman, who, on coming home after having made his fortune abroad, +took up his residence at Biggar. I had, in these days, an aversion to +coming into contact with rich strangers, and although he lived with a +family which I was accustomed to visit, I bore aloof from being +introduced to him. But he came to me one day on the hill of +Bizzie-berry, and frankly told me that he wished to be acquainted with +me, and therefore had taken the liberty of introducing himself. I found +excuse for not dining with him on that day, but not so the next, nor for +many days afterwards. He was intellectual—and his intelligence was only +surpassed by his generosity. He gave me to understand that his horse was +as much at my service as his own; and one learned, by and by,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> to keep +all wishes and wants as much out of view as possible, in case that they +should be attended to when you yourself had forgotten them. When he +began to rally me about my limited knowledge of the world, I knew that +some excursion was in contemplation. We, on one occasion, rode down the +Clyde, finding out, so far as we might, all things, both natural and +artificial, worthy of being seen; and when at Greenock, he was anxious +that we should have gone into the Highlands, but I resisted; for +although not so much as a shade of the expenses was allowed to fall on +me, I felt only the more ashamed of the extent of them.</p> + +<p>"I had become acquainted with a number of people whom I delighted to +visit occasionally; one family in particular, who lived amid the beauty +of 'the wild glen sae green.' The song now widely known by this name I +wrote for a member of this delightful family, who at that time herded +one of the <i>hirsels</i> of his father's flocks on 'the heathy hill.' With +the greater number of persons in the district possessing literary tastes +I became more or less intimate. The schoolmasters I found friendly and +obliging; one of these, in particular (now holding a higher office in +the same locality), I often visited. His high poetic taste convinced me +more and more of the value of mental culture, and tended to subdue me +from those more rugged modes of expression in which I took a pride in +conveying my conceptions. With this interesting friend I sometimes took +excursions into rural regions more or less remote, and once we journeyed +to the south, when I had the pleasure of introducing him to the Ettrick +Shepherd. But of my acquaintances, I valued few more than my modest and +poetic friend, the late James Brown of Symington.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Though humble in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +station, he was high in virtuous worth. His mind, imbued with and +regulated by sound religious and moral principle, was as ingenious and +powerful as his heart was 'leal, warm, and kind.'</p> + +<p>"Entering the University of Edinburgh, I took for the first session the +Greek and Latin classes. Attending them regularly, I performed the +incumbent exercises much after the manner that others did—only, as I +have always understood it to be a rare thing with the late Mr Dunbar, +the Greek Professor, to give much praise to anything in the shape of +poetry, I may mention that marked merit was ascribed to me in his class +for a poetical translation of one of the odes of Anacreon. I had laid +the translation on his desk, in an anonymous state, one day before the +assembling of the class. He read it and praised it, expressing at the +same time his anxiety to know who was the translator; but the translator +having intended not to acknowledge it, kept quiet. He returned to it, +and praising it anew, expressed still more earnestly his desire to know +the author; and so I made myself known, as all <i>great unknowns</i> I think, +with the exception of Junius, are sooner or later destined to do.</p> + +<p>"Of the philosophical classes, those that I liked best were the Logic +and Moral Philosophy—particularly the latter. I have often thought that +it is desirable, could it be possibly found practicable, to have all the +teachers of the higher departments of education not merely of high +scholastic acquirements, but of acknowledged genius. Youth reveres +genius, and delights to be influenced by it; heart and spirit are kept +awake and refreshed by it, and everything connected with its +forthgivings is rendered doubly memorable. It fixes, in a certain sense, +the limit of expectation, and the prevailing sentiment is—we are under +the tuition of the highest among those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> on earth who teach; if we do not +profit here, we may not hope to do so elsewhere. These remarks I make +with a particular reference to the late Professor Wilson, under the +influence of whose genius and generous warmth of heart many have felt as +I was wont to feel. If it brings hope and gladness to love and esteem +the living, it also yields a satisfaction, though mingled with regret, +to venerate the dead; and now that he is no more, I cannot forbear +recording how he treated a man from the mountains who possessed no +previous claim upon his attention. I had no introduction to him, but he +said that he had heard of me, and would accept of no fee for his class +when I joined it; at least he would not do so, he said, till I should be +able to inform him whether or not I had been pleased with his lectures. +But it proved all the same in this respect at the close as it was at the +commencement of the session. He invited me frequently to his house as a +friend, when other friends were to meet him there, besides requesting me +to come and see him and his family whenever I could make it convenient. +He said that his servant John was very perverse, and would be sure to +drive me by like all others, if he possibly could; so he gave me a +watchword, which he thought John, perverse as he was, would not venture +to resist. I thus became possessed of a privilege of which I did not +fail to avail myself frequently—a privilege which might well have been +gratifying to such as were much less enthusiastic with regard to +literary men and things than I was. To share in the conversation of +those possessed of high literary taste and talent, and, above all, of +poetic genius, is the highest enjoyment afforded by society; and if it +be thus gratifying, it is almost unnecessary to add that it is also +advantageous in no ordinary degree, if, indeed, properly appreciated +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> improved. Any one who ever met the late Professor in the midst of +his own happy family, constituted as it was when I had this pleasure, +was not likely soon to forget a scene wherein so much genius, kindness, +loveliness, and worth were blended. If the world does not think with a +deep and undying regret of what once adorned it, and it has now lost, +through the intervention of those shadows which no morning but the +eternal one can remove, I am one, at least, who in this respect cannot +follow its example.</p> + +<p>"Edinburgh, with its 'palaces and towers,' and its many crowded ways, +was at first strangely new to me, being as different, in almost all +respects, to what I had been accustomed as it might seem possible for +contrariety to make earthly things. Though I had friends in it, and +therefore was not solitary, yet its tendency, like that of the noisy and +restless sea, was to render me melancholy. Some features which the +congregated condition of mankind exhibited penetrated my heart with +something like actual dismay. I had seen nothing of the sort, nor yet +even so much as a semblance of it, and therefore I had no idea that +there existed such a miserable shred of degradation, for example, as a +cinder-woman—desolate and dirty as her employment—bowed down—a shadow +among shadows—busily prone, beneath the sheety night sky, to find out +and fasten upon the crumb, whose pilgrimage certainly had not improved +it since falling from the rich man's table. Compassion, though not +naturally so, becomes painful when entertained towards those whom we +believe labouring under suffering which we fain would but cannot +alleviate.</p> + +<p>"I had enough of curiosity for wishing to see all those things which +others spoke of, and characterised as worthy of being seen; but I +contented myself meanwhile with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> survey of the city's external +attributes. In a week or two, however, my friend A. F. Harrower, +formerly mentioned, having come into town from Clydesdale, took pleasure +in finding out whatever could interest or gratify me, and of conveying +me thither. With very few exceptions, every forenoon he called at my +lodgings, leaving a note requesting me to meet him at some specified +time and place. I sometimes sent apologies, and at other times went +personally to apologise; but neither of these methods answered well. +Through his persevering attentions towards me, I met with much agreeable +society, and saw much above as well as somewhat below the earth, which I +might never otherwise have seen. In illustration of the latter fact, I +may state that, having gone to London, he returned with two Englishmen, +when he invited me to assist them in exploring the battle-field of +Pinkie. We terminated our excursion by descending one of Sir John Hope's +coal-pits. These humorous and frank English associates amused themselves +by bantering my friend and myself about the chastisement which Scotland +received from the sister kingdom at Pinkie. As did the young rustic +countryman—or, at least, was admonished to do—so did I. When going +away to reside in England, he asked his father if he had any advice to +give him. 'Nane, Jock, nane but this,' he said; 'dinna forget to avenge +the battle o' Pinkie on them.' Ere I slept I wrote, in support of our +native land, the song—'Ours is the land of gallant hearts;' and thus, +in my own way, 'avenged the battle of Pinkie.'</p> + +<p>"One of two other friends with whom I delighted to associate was R. B., +an early school companion, who, having left the mountains earlier than I +did, had now been a number of years in Edinburgh. Of excellent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> head and +generous heart, he loved the wild, green, and deep solitudes of nature. +The other—G. M'D.—was of powerful and bold intellect, and remarkable +for a retentive memory. Each of us, partial to those regions where +nature strives to maintain her own undisturbed dominion, on all holidays +hied away from the city, to the woodland and mountainous haunts, or the +loneliness of the least frequented shores of the sea. The spirit of our +philosophy varied much—sometimes profound and solemn, and sometimes +humorous; but still we philosophised, wandering on. They were members of +a literary society which met once a week, and which I joined. My +propensity to study character and note its varieties was here afforded a +field opening close upon me; but I was also much profited by performing +my part in carrying forward the business of the institution. During all +the sessions that I attended the University, but especially as these +advanced toward their termination, I entered into society beyond that +which might be regarded as professionally literary. I had an idea then, +as I still have, that, in every process of improvement, care should be +taken that one department of our nature is not cultivated to the neglect +of another. There are two departments—the intellectual and the +moral;—the one implying all that is rational, the other comprising +whatever pertains to feeling and passion, or, more simply, there are the +head and the heart; and if the intellect is to be cultivated, the heart +is not to be allowed to run into wild waste, nor to sink into systematic +apathy. Lore-lighted pages and unremitting abstract studies will make a +man learned; but knowledge is not wisdom; and to know much is not so +desirable, because it is not so beneficial, either to ourselves or +others, as to understand, through the more generous and active +sympathies of our nature, how the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> information which we possess may be +best applied to useful purposes. This we shall not well know, if the +head be allowed or encouraged to leave the heart behind. If we forget +society it will forget us, and, through this estrangement, a sympathetic +knowledge of human nature may be lost. Thus, in the haunts of seclusion +and solitary thought our acquirements may only prove availing to +ourselves as matters of self-gratification. The benevolent affections, +which ought not merely to be allowed, but taught to expand, may thus not +only be permitted but encouraged to contract, and the exercise of that +studious ingenuity, which perhaps leads the world to admire the +achievements of learning, thus deceive us into a state of existence +little better than cold selfishness itself. Sir Isaac Newton, who soared +so high and travelled so far on the wing of abstract thought, gathering +light from the stars that he might convey it in intelligible shape to +the world, seems to have thought, high as the employment was, that it +was not good, either for the heart or mind of man, to be always away +from that intercourse with humanity and its affairs which is calculated +to awaken and sustain the sympathies of life; and therefore turned to +the contemplation of Him who was <i>meek and lowly</i>. And no countenance +has been afforded to monks and hermits who retired from the world, +though it even was to spend their lives in meditation and prayer; for +Heaven had warned man, at an early date, not to withhold the +compassionate feelings of the heart, and the helping-hand, from any in +whom he recognised the attributes of a common nature, saying to him, +'See that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh.'</p> + +<p>"My last year's attendance at the College Philosophical Classes was at +St Andrews. I had a craving to acquaint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> myself with a city noted in +story, and I could not, under the canopy of my native sky, have planted +the step among scenes more closely interwoven with past national +transactions, or fraught with more interesting associations. In +attending the Natural Philosophy Class, not being proficient in +mathematic lore, I derived less advantage than had otherwise been the +case with me. Yet I did not sit wholly in the shade, notwithstanding +that the light which shone upon me did not come from that which Campbell +says yielded 'the lyre of Heaven another string.' A man almost always +finds some excuse for deficiency; and I have one involving a philosophy +which I think few will be disposed to do otherwise than acquiesce +in—namely, that it is a happy arrangement in the creation and history +of man, that all minds are not so constituted as to have the same +predilections, or to follow the same bent. Considering that I had +started at a rather late hour of life to travel in the paths of +learning, and having so many things, interesting and important, to +attend to by the way, it was perhaps less remarkable that I should be +one who 'neither kenn'd nor cared' much about lines that had no breadth, +and points which were without either breadth or length, than that I +should have felt gratified to find on my arrival some of my simple +strains sung in a city famed for its scientific acquirements.</p> + +<p>"The ruins which intermingle with the scenery and happy homes of St +Andrews, like gray hairs among those of another hue, rendered venerable +the general aspect of the place. But I did not feel only the city +interesting, but the whole of Fifeshire. By excursions made on the +monthly holidays then as well as subsequently, when in after-years I +returned to visit friends in the royal realm, I acquainted myself with a +goodly number of those haunts and scenes which history and tradition +have ren<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>dered attractive. A land, however, or any department of it, +whatever may be its other advantages, is most to be valued in respect of +the intelligence or worth of its inhabitants. And if so, then I am proud +to aver that in Fife I came to possess many intelligent and excellent +friends. Many of these have gone to another land—'the land o' the +leal,' leaving the places which now know them no more, the more +regretfully endeared to recollection. Of those friends who survive, I +cannot forbear an especial mention of one, who is now a professor in the +college in which he was then only a student. A man cannot be truly great +unless he also be good, and I do not alone value him on the colder and +statelier eminence of high intellectual powers and scientific +acquirements, but also, if not much rather, for his generous worth and +his benevolent feeling. My friend is one in whom these qualities are +combined, and as I sincerely think, I will likewise freely say, that +those will assuredly find a time, sooner or later, greatly to rejoice, +whose fate has been so favourable as to place them under the range and +influence of his tuition.</p> + +<p>"I studied at St Andrews College under the late Dr Jackson, who was an +eminent philosopher and friendly man; also under Mr Duncan, of the +Mathematical Chair, whom I regarded as a personification of unworldly +simplicity, clothed in high and pure thought; and I regularly attended, +though not enrolled as a regular student, the Moral Philosophy Class of +Dr Chalmers. Returning to Edinburgh and its university, I became +acquainted, through my friend and countryman, Robert Hogg, with R. A. +Smith, who was desirous that I should assist him with the works in which +he was engaged, particularly 'The Irish Minstrel,' and 'Select +Melodies.' Smith was a man of modest worth and superior intelligence;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +peculiarly delicate in his taste and feeling in everything pertaining to +lyric poetry as well as music; his criticisms were strict, and, as some +thought, unnecessarily minute. Diffident and retiring, he was not got +acquainted with at once, but when he gave his confidence, he was found a +pleasant companion and warm-hearted friend. If, as he had sought my +acquaintance, I might have expected more frankness on our meeting, I +soon became convinced that his shyer cast arose alone from excess of +modesty, combined with a remarkable sensitiveness of feeling. Proudly +honourable, he seemed more susceptible of the influences of all sorts +that affect life than any man I ever knew; and, indeed, a little +acquaintance with him was only required to shew that his harp was strung +too delicately for standing long the tear and wear of this world. He had +done much for Scottish melody, both by fixing the old airs in as pure a +state as possible, and by adding to the vast number of these national +treasures some exquisite airs of his own. For a number of the airs in +the works just mentioned, but particularly in the 'Select Melodies,' he +had experienced difficulty in procuring suitable words, owing chiefly to +the crampness of the measures—a serious drawback which appears to +pervade, more or less, the sweetest melodies of other nations as well as +those of our own. A number of these I supplied as well as I could.</p> + +<p>"About this time the native taste for Scottish song in city society +seemed nearly, if not altogether lost, and a kind of songs, such as +'I've been roaming,' 'I'd be a butterfly,' 'Buy a broom,' 'Cherry-ripe,' +&c. (in which if the head contrived to find a meaning, it was still such +as the heart could understand nothing about), seemed alone to be +popular, and to prevail. R. A. Smith disliked this state of things, but, +perhaps, few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> more so than Mr P. M'Leod, who gave a most splendid +evidence of his taste in his 'Original National Melodies.' Both Smith +and M'Leod were very particular about the quality of the poetry which +they honoured with their music. M'Leod was especially careful in this +respect. He loved the lay of lofty and undaunted feeling as well as of +love and friendship; for his genius is of a manly tone, and has a bold +and liberal flow. And popular as some of the effusions in his work have +become, such as 'Oh! why left I my hame?' and 'Scotland yet!' many +others of them, I am convinced, will yet be popular likewise. When the +intelligence of due appreciation draws towards them, it will take them +up and delight to fling them upon the breezes that blow over the hills +and glens, and among the haunts and homes of the isle of unconquerable +men. To Mr M'Leod's 'National Melodies' I contributed a number of songs. +In the composition of these I found it desirable to lay aside, in some +considerable degree, my pastoral phraseology, for, as conveyed in such +productions, I observed that city society cared little about rural +scenery and sentiment. It was different with my kind and gifted friend +Professor Wilson. He was wont to say that he would not have given the +education, as he was pleased to term it, which I had received afar in +the green bosom of mountain solitude, and among the haunts and homes of +the shepherd—meaning the thing as applicable to poetry—for all that he +had received at colleges. Wilson had introduced my song, 'When the glen +all is still,' into the <i>Noctes</i>, and La Sapio composed music for it; +and not only was it sung in Drury-lane, but published in a sheet as the +production of a real shepherd; yet it did not become popular in city +life. In the country it had been popular previous to this, where it is +so still,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it.</p> + +<p>"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the +'Songs of the Ark,'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> were published by Blackwood. These, as published, +are not what they were at first, and were intended only to be short +songs of a sacred nature, unconnected by intervening narrative, for +which R. A. Smith wished to compose music. Unfortunately, his other +manifold engagements never permitted him to carry his intention into +practice; and seeing no likelihood of any decrease of these engagements, +I gave scope to my thoughts on the subject, and the work became what it +now is. But I ought to mention that this was not my first poetic +publication in palpable shape. Some years previously I published +stanzas, or a monody, on the death of Lord Byron. I had all along +thought much, and with something like mysterious awe, upon the eccentric +temperament, character and history of that great poet, and the tidings +which told the event of his demise impressed me deeply. Being in the +country, and remote from those who could exchange thoughts with me on +the occurrence, I resorted to writing. That which I advanced was much +mixed up with the result, if I may not say of former experience, yet of +former reflection, for I had entertained many conjectures concerning +what this powerful personage would or might yet do; and, indeed, his +wilful waywardness, together with the misery which he represented as +continually haunting him, constituted an impressive advertisement to the +world, and served to keep human attention awake towards him.</p> + +<p>"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write +rapidly: likely, too, they will write with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> energy, because not only the +head but also the heart is engaged. 'The Monody,' which is of a goodly +length, I finished in a few days; and though I felt a desire of having +it published, yet it lay over for a time, till, being in Edinburgh, a +friend shewed it to Dr Robert Anderson. I had been well satisfied with +the result, had the production accomplished nothing more than procured +me, as it did, the friendly acquaintance of this excellent, venerable +man. He knew more of the minutiæ of literature, together with the +character and habits of the literary men of his day, and of other days +also, than any I had then or have since met with; and he seemed to take +great pleasure in communicating his knowledge to others. He thought well +of 'The Monody,' and warmly advised me to publish it. It was published +accordingly by Mr John Anderson, bookseller, North Bridge, Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>"Some of the reviewers, in regard to the 'Songs of the Ark,' seemed to +think that a sufficiency of eastern scenery did not obtain in them. +Doubtless this was correct; but I remark, that if my object in the +undertaking had been to delineate scenery, I would not have turned my +attention to the East, the scenes of which I never saw. Human nature +being radically the same everywhere, a man, through the sympathies of +that nature, can know to a certain extent what are likely to be the +thoughts and feelings of his fellow-kind in any particular +circumstances—therefore he has data upon which he can venture to give a +representation of them; but it is very different from this in regard to +topographical phenomena. It was therefore not the natural, but, if I may +so call it, the moral scenery in which I was interested, more +particularly since the whole scene of nature here below was, shortly +after the period at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> which the poem commences, to become a blank of +desolate uniformity, as overwhelmed beneath a waste of waters.</p> + +<p>"At the risk of incurring the charge of vanity, I would venture to +adduce one or two of the favourable opinions entertained in regard to +some of the miscellaneous pieces which went to make up the volume of the +'Songs of the Ark.' Of the piece entitled 'Apathy,' Allan Cunningham +thus wrote:—'Although sufficiently distressful, it is a very bold and +original poem, such as few men, except Byron, would have conceived or +could have written.' Motherwell said of the 'Sea-gray Man,' that it was +'the best of all modern ballads.' This ballad, shortly after I had +composed it, I repeated to the Ettrick Shepherd walking on the banks of +the Yarrow, and he was fully more pleased with it than with anything of +mine I had made him acquainted with. He was wont to call me his +'assistant and successor;' and although this was done humorously, it yet +seemed to furnish him with a privilege on which he proceeded to approve +or disapprove very frankly, that in either case I might profit by his +remarks. He was pleased especially with the half mysterious way in which +I contrived to get quit of the poor old man at last. This, indeed, was a +contrivance; but the idea of the rest of the ballad was taken from an +old man, who had once been a sailor, and who was wont to come to my +mother's, in the rounds which he took in pursuit of charity at regular +periods of the year, so that we called him her pensioner.</p> + +<p>"The summer vacations of college years I passed in the country, +sometimes residing with my mother, and eldest brother, at a small farm +which he had taken at the foot of the Lammermuir hills, in East-Lothian, +called Brookside, and sometimes, when I wished a variety,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> with another +brother, at Dryden, in Selkirkshire. At both places I had enough of +time, not only for study, but also for what I may call amusement. The +latter consisted in various literary projects which I entered upon, but +particularly those of a poetic kind, and the writing of letters to +friends with whom I regularly, and I may say also copiously +corresponded; for in these we did not merely express immediate thoughts +and feelings of a more personal nature, but remarked with vigorous +frankness upon many standard affairs of this scene of things. To this +general rule of the manner of my life at this time, however, I must +mention an exception. A college companion and I, thinking to advantage +ourselves, and perhaps others, took a school at Fisherrow. The +speculation in the end, as to money matters, served us nothing. It was +easier to get scholars than to get much if anything for teaching them. +Yet neither was the former, in some respects, so easy as might have been +expected. The offspring of man, in that locality, may be regarded as in +some measure amphibious. Boys and girls equally, if not already in the +sea, were, like young turtles, sure to be pointing towards it with an +instinct too intense to err. I never met, indeed, with a race of beings +believed, or even suspected to be rational, that, provided immediate +impulses and inclinations could be gratified, cared so thoroughly little +for consequences. On warm summer days, when we caused the school door to +stand open, it is not easy to say how much of intense interest this +simple circumstance drew towards it. The squint of the unsettled eye was +on the door, out at which the heart and all its inheritance was off and +away long previously, and the more than ordinarily propitious moment for +the limbs following was only as yet not arrived. When that moment came, +off went one, fol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>lowed by another; and down the narrow and dark lanes +of sooty houses. As well might the steps have proposed to pursue meteors +playing at hide-and-seek among the clouds of a midnight sky that the +tempest was troubling. Nevertheless, Colin Bell, who by virtue of his +ceaseless stir in the exercise of his heathen-god-like abilities, had +constituted himself captain of the detective band, would be up and at +hand immediately, and would say 'Master—sir, Young an' me will bring +them, sir, if ye'll let's.' It was just as good to 'let' as to hinder, +for, for others to be out thus, and he in, seemed to be an advantage +gained over Colin to which he could never be rightly reconciled. He was +bold and frank, and full of expedients in cases of emergency; especially +he appeared capable of rendering more reasons for an error in his +conduct than one could well have imagined could have been rendered for +anything done in life below. Another drawback in the case was, that one +could never be very seriously angry with him. If more real than +pretended at any time, his broad bright eye and bluff face, +magnificently lifted up, like the sun on frost-work, melted down +displeasure and threatened to betray all the policy depending on it; for +in the main never a bit of ill heart had Colin, though doubtlessly he +had in him, deeply established, a trim of rebellion against education +that seemed ever on the alert, and which repulsed even its portended +approach with a vigour resembling the electric energy of the torpedo.</p> + +<p>"As we did not much like this place, we did not remain long in it. I had +meanwhile, however, resources which brought relief. Those friends whose +society I most enjoyed occasionally paid us a visit from Edinburgh; and +in leisure hours I haunted the banks of the Esk, which, with wood, and +especially with wild-roses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> are very beautiful around the church of +Inveresk. This beauty was heightened by contrast—for I have ever hated +the scenery of, and the effect produced by, sunny days and dirty +streets. Nor do the scenes where mankind congregate to create bustle, +'dirdum and deray,' often fail of making me more or less melancholy. In +the week of the Musselburgh Races, I only went out one day to toss about +for a few hours in the complicated and unmeaning crowd. I insert the +protest which I entered against it on my return:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'What boots this turmoil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of uproar and folly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That renders the smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of creation unholy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that which we love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is life's best assistant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought still must rove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the dear and the distant.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would, then, that I were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid nature's wild grandeur—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this folly afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I wont was to wander;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pale cloudlets fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the soft breezes driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mountains on high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kiss the azure of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where down the deep glen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rivulet is rolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And few, few of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the solitudes strolling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! bliss I could reap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When day was returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the wild-flowers asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong the dews of the morning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there were it joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the shades of the gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the night's lullaby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the world were coming—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To roam through the brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the paths long forsaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hill-harp retake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And its warblings awaken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart is in pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the mind is in sadness—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when comes, oh! when,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The return of its gladness?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest shall fade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the winter's returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the voice of the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be sorrow and mourning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's vigour shall fail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his locks shall grow hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where is the tale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his youth and his glory?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life is a dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fate darkly furl'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I a hermit would seem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid the crowd of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let me be free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of these scenes that encumber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And enjoy what may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my days yet to number!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I have dwelt at the greater length on these matters, trivial though +they be, in consequence of my non-intention of tracing minutely the +steps and stages of my probationary career. These, with me, I suppose, +were much like what they are and have been with others. My acquaintance +was a little extended with those that inhabit the land, and in some +cases a closer intimacy than mere acquaintance took place, and more +lasting friendships were formed.</p> + +<p>"My brother having taken a farm near Teviothead, I left Brookside, and +as all the members of the family were wont to account that in which my +mother lived their home, it of course was mine. But, notwithstanding +that the change brought me almost to the very border of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> the vale of my +nativity, I regretted to leave Brookside. It was a beautiful and +interesting place, and the remembrance of it is like what Ossian says of +joys that are past—'sweet and mournful to the soul.' I loved the place, +was partial to the peacefulness of its retirement, its solitude, and the +intelligence of its society. I was near the laird's library, and I had a +garden in the glen. The latter was formed that I might gather home to +it, when in musing moods among the mountains, the wild-flowers, in order +to their cultivation, and my having something more of a possessory right +over them. It formed a contrast to the scenery around, and lured to +relaxation. Occasionally 'the lovely of the land' brought, with +industrious delight, plants and flowers, that they might have a share in +adorning it. Even when I was from home it was, upon the whole, well +attended to; for although, according to taste or caprice, changes were +made, yet I readily forgave the annoyances that might attend alteration, +and especially those by the hands that sometimes printed me pleasing +compliments on the clay with the little stones lifted from the walks. If +the things which I have written and given to the world, or may yet give, +continue to be cared for, these details may not be wholly without use, +inasmuch as they will serve to explain frequent allusions which might +otherwise seem introduced at capricious random, or made without a +meaning.</p> + +<p>"Shortly after becoming a probationer, I came to reside in this +district, and, not long after, the preacher who officiated in the +preaching-station here died. The people connected with it wished me to +become his successor, which, after some difficulties on their part had +been surmounted, I became. I had other views at the time which were +promising and important; but as there had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> untoward disturbances in +the place, owing to the lack of defined rights and privileges, I had it +in my power to become a peacemaker, and, besides, I felt it my duty to +comply with a call which was both cordial and unanimous. I now laid +wholly aside those things which pertain to the pursuits of romantic +literature, and devoted myself to the performance of incumbent duties. +In consequence of no house having been provided for the preacher, and no +one to be obtained but at a very inconvenient distance, I was in this +respect very inconveniently situated. Travelling nine miles to the scene +of my official duties, it was frequently my hap to preach in a very +uncomfortable condition, when, indeed, the wet would be pouring from my +arms on the Bible before me, and oozing over my shoes when the foot was +stirred on the pulpit floor. But, by and by, the Duke of Buccleuch built +a dwelling-house for me, the same which I still occupy."</p> + +<p>To the ministerial charge of the then preaching station of Teviothead Mr +Riddell was about to receive ordination, at the united solicitation of +his hearers, when he was suddenly visited with severe affliction. Unable +to discharge pulpit duty for a period of years, the pastoral +superintendence of the district was devolved on another; and on his +recovery, with commendable forbearance, he did not seek to interfere +with the new ecclesiastical arrangement. This procedure was generously +approved of by the Duke of Buccleuch, who conferred upon him the right +to occupy the manse cottage, along with a grant of land, and a small +annuity.</p> + +<p>Mr Riddell's autobiography proceeds:—"In the hope of soon obtaining a +permanent and comfortable settlement at Teviothead, I had ventured to +make my own, by marriage, her who had in heart been mine through all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> my +college years, and who for my sake had, in the course of these, rejected +wealth and high standing in life. The heart that, for the sake of leal +faith and love, could despise wealth and its concomitants, and brave the +risk of embracing comparative poverty, even at its best estate, was not +one likely overmuch to fear that poverty when it appeared, nor flinch +with an altered tone from the position which it had adopted, when it +actually came. This, much rather, fell to my part. It preyed upon my +mind too deeply not to prove injurious in its effects; and it did this +all the more, that the voice of love, true to its own law, had the words +of hope and consolation in it, but never those of complaint. It appeared +the <i>acmé</i> of the severity of fate itself to have lived to be the mean +of placing a heart and mind so rich in disinterested affection on so +wild and waste a scene of trial.</p> + +<p>"From an experience of fourteen years, in which there were changes in +almost all things except in the affection which bound two hearts in one, +before the hands were united, it might be expected that I should give +some eminent admonitions concerning the imprudence of men, and +particularly of students, allowing their hearts to become interested in, +and the remembrance of their minds more fraught with the rich beauty of +auburn ringlets than in the untoward confusion, for example, of +irregular Greek verbs; yet I much fear that admonition would be of no +use. If their fate be woven of a texture similar to that of mine, how +can they help it? A man may have an idea that to cling to the shelter +which he has found, and indulge in the sleep that has overtaken him amid +the stormy blasts of the waste mountains, may be little else than +opening for himself the gates of death, yet the toils of the way through +which he has already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> passed may also have rendered him incapable of +resisting the dangerous rest and repose of his immediate accommodation. +In regard to my own love affairs, I, throughout all these long years +which I have specified, might well have adopted, as the motto of both +mind and heart, these lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Oh, poortith cauld and restless love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye wreck my peace between ye.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I had, as has already been hinted, a rival, who, if not so devotedly +attached as I, nevertheless was by far too much so for any one who is +destined to love without encouragement. He was as rich in proportion as +I was poor. The gifts of love, called the gifts of friendship, which he +contrived to bestow were costly; mine, as fashioned forth by a higher +hand than that of art, might be equally rich and beautiful in the main, +yet wild-flowers, though yellow as the gold, and though wrapped in +rhymes, are light ware when weighed against the solid material. He, in +personal appearance, manners, and generosity of heart, was one with whom +it was impossible to be acquainted and not to esteem; and another +feature of this affair was, that we were friends, and almost constant +companions for some years. When in the country I had to be with him as +continually as possible; and when I went to the city, it was his wont to +follow me. Here, then, was a web strangely woven by the fingers of a +wayward fate. Feelings were brought into daily exercise which might seem +the least compatible with being brought into contact and maintained in +harmony. And these things, which are strictly true, if set forth in the +contrivances of romance might, or in all likelihood would, be pronounced +unnatural or overstrained. The worth and truth of the heart to which +these fond anxieties related left me no ground to fear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> for losing that +regard which I valued as 'light and life' itself; but in another way +there reached me a matchless misery, and which haunted me almost as +constantly as my own shadow when the sun shone. Considering the dark +uncertainty of my future prospects in life, that regard I felt it +fearful almost beyond measure even to seek to retain, incurring the +responsibility of marring the fortune of one whom nevertheless I could +not bear the thought of another than myself having the bliss of +rendering blessed. If selfishness be thus seen to exist even in love +itself, I would fain hope that it is of an elevated and peculiar kind, +and not that which grovels, dragging downwards, and therefore justly +deserving of the name. I am the more anxious in regard to this on +account of its being in my own case felt so deeply. It maintained its +ground with more or less firmness at all times, and ultimately +triumphed, in despite of all efforts made to the contrary over the +suggestions of prudence and even the sterner reasonings of the sense of +justice. In times of sadness and melancholy, which, like the preacher's +days of darkness, were many, when hope scarcely lit the gloom of the +heart on which it sat though the band of love was about its brow, I +busied myself in endeavouring to form resolutions to resign my +pretensions to the warmer regard of her who was the object of all this +serious solicitude; but neither she herself, nor time and place seemed, +so far as I could see, disposed in the least to aid me in these efforts +of self-control and denial; and, indeed, even at best, I much suspect +that the resolutions of lovers in such cases are only like the little +dams which the rivulet forms in itself by the frail material of stray +grass-piles, and wild-rose leaves, easily overturned by the next slight +impulse that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> the wave receives. In a ballad called 'Lanazine,' written +somewhat in the old irregular style, sentiments relating to this matter, +a little—and only a little—disguised, are set forth. The following is +a portion of these records, written from time to time for the sake of +preserving to the memory what might once be deeply interesting to the +heart:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'O who may love with warm true heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then from love refrain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who say 'tis fit we now should part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never meet again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The heart once broken bleeds no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a deep sound sleep it hath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the stir of pain ne'er travels o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The solitude of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The moon is set, and the star is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cure, though cruel, cures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the heart left lone must sorrow on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the tie of life endures.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'He had nor gold nor land, and trow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Himself unworthy all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sternly in his soul had vow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fond love to recall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For her he loved he would not wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since fate would ne'er agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And went to part with a sore, sore heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bower of the greenwood tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The dews were deep, and the leaves were green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the eve was soft and still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strife may reach the vale I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though no blasts be on the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The leaves were green, and the dews were deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the foot was light upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass and flowers, round the bower asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But parting there could be none.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'He spoke the word with a struggle hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fair one forward sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever wist, till like one too blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her arms were round him flung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For the fair one whom he'd woo'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the chill night breezes sigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could wot not why she loved him more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than ere she thus was tried.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'A red—not weak—came o'er her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she turn'd away anon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since nor he nor she could speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still parting there could be none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I could have lived alone for thee,'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said; 'So lived could I,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She answer'd, while it seem'd as she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had wish'd even then to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For pale, pale grew her cheek I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While his arms, around her thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left space no plea to come between,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So parting there could be none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'She cool'd his brow with the heart's own drop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the brain seem'd burning there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her whisper reach'd the realm of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the darkness of despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'She bade his soul be still and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the light of love to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothed it with the sympathy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which a woman's heart can give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And it seem'd more than all before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'er given to mortal man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiance came, and with it bore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The angel of the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For ever since Eve her love-bower would weave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the first of all her line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one on earth had had more of worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the lovely Lanazine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And if Fortune's frown would o'er him come down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less marvel it may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since he woo'd all while to make his own<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lovelier far than she.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Notwithstanding the ever-living solicitude and sad suffering +constituting the keen and trying experience of many years, as arising in +consequence of this attachment and untoward circumstances, it has +brought more than a sufficient compensation; and were it possible, and +the choice given, I would assuredly follow the same course, and suffer +it all over again, rather than be without 'that treasure of departed +sorrow' that is even now at my right hand as I write these lines.</p> + +<p>"'The Christian Politician'<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> was published during the time of my +indisposition. This work I had written at leisure hours, with the hopes +of its being beneficial to the people placed under my care, by giving +them a general and connected view of the principles and philosophical +bearing of the Christian religion. In exhorting them privately, I +discovered that many of them understood that religion better in itself, +than they appeared to comprehend the manner in which it stood in +connexion with the surrounding circumstances of this life. In other +words, they were acquainted with doctrines and principles whose +application and use, whether in regard to thought, or feeling, or daily +practice, they did not so clearly recognise. To remedy this state of +things, I wrote 'The Christian Politician' in a style as simple as the +subjects treated of in it would well admit of, giving it a +conversational cast, instead of systematic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> arrangement, that it might +be the less forbidding to those for whom it was principally intended. +Being published, however, at the time when, through my indisposition, I +could take no interest in it, it was sent forth in a somewhat more +costly shape than rightly suited the original design; and although +extensively introduced and well received, it was in society of a higher +order than that which it was its object chiefly to benefit.</p> + +<p>"My latest publication is a volume of 'Poems and Songs,'<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> published by +Messrs Sutherland and Knox of Edinburgh. 'The Cottagers of Glendale,' +the 'Lay of Life,' and some others of the compositions in this volume, +were written during the period of my convalescence; the songs are, for +the greater part, the production of 'the days of other years.' Many of +the latter had been already sung in every district of the kingdom, but +had been much corrupted in the course of oral transmission. These +wanderers of the hill-harp are now secured in a permanent form."</p> + +<p>To this autobiographical sketch it remains to be added, that Mr Riddell +is possessed of nearly all the qualities of a great master of the +Scottish lyre. He has viewed the national character where it is to be +seen in its most unsophisticated aspects, and in circumstances the most +favourable to its development. He has lived, too, among scenes the best +calculated to foster the poetic temperament. "He has got," wrote +Professor Wilson, "a poet's education: he has lived the greater part of +his days amidst pastoral scenes, and tended sheep among the green and +beautiful solitudes of nature." Sufficiently imaginative, he does not, +like his minstrel predecessor the Ettrick Shepherd, soar into the +regions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> of the supernatural, or roam among the scenes of the viewless +world. He sings of the mountain wilds and picturesque valleys of +Caledonia, and of the simple joys and habits of rural or pastoral life. +His style is essentially lyrical, and his songs are altogether true to +nature. Several of his songs, such as "Scotland Yet," "The Wild Glen sae +Green," "The Land of Gallant Hearts," and "The Crook and Plaid," will +find admirers while Scottish lyric poetry is read or sung.</p> + +<p>In 1855, Mr Riddell executed a translation of the Gospel of Matthew into +the Scottish language by command of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, a +performance of which only a limited number of copies have been printed +under the Prince's auspices. At present, he is engaged in preparing a +romance connected with Border history.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN" id="THE_WILD_GLEN_SAE_GREEN"></a>THE WILD GLEN SAE GREEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posy, or Roslin Castle."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lying a' at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gloamin' spreads its mantle gray o'er the world's dewy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll take my plaid and hasten through yon woody dell unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meet my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll meet her by the trysting-tree, that's stannin' a' alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I hae carved her name upon yon little moss gray stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I will fauld her to my breast, and be mair bless'd I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a' that are aneath the sky, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her head reclined upon this heart, in simple bliss I'll share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure, pure kiss o' tender love that owns nae earthly care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spirits hovering o'er us shall bless the heartfelt scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I woo my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My fauldin' plaid shall shield her frae the gloamin's chilly gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star o' eve shall mark our joy, but shall not tell our tale—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Our simple tale o' tender love—that tauld sae oft has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may be sweet at morning hour, or at the noon o' day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet wi' those that we lo'e weel in grove or garden gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sweetest bliss o' mortal life is at the hour o' e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! I could wander earth a' o'er, nor care for aught o' bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I might share, at my return, a joy sae pure as this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I could spurn a' earthly wealth—a palace and a queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SCOTIAS_THISTLE" id="SCOTIAS_THISTLE"></a>SCOTIA'S THISTLE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotia's thistle guards the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where repose her dauntless brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never yet the foot of slave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has trode the wilds of Scotia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from tyrant's dark control—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as waves of ocean roll—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as thoughts of minstrel's soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still roam the sons of Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scotia's hills of hoary hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watering with its dearest dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heathy locks of Scotia.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Down each green-wood skirted vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guardian spirits, lingering, hail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a minstrel's melting tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As told of ancient Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the shades of eve invest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's dew-bespangled breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How supremely man is blest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the glens of Scotia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There no dark alarms convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught to chase life's charms away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they live, and live for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round the homes of Scotia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wake, my hill harp! wildly wake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound by lee and lonely lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never shall this heart forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie wilds of Scotia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others o'er the ocean's foam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far to other lands may roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for ever be my home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the sky of Scotia!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS" id="THE_LAND_OF_GALLANT_HEARTS"></a>THE LAND OF GALLANT HEARTS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ours is the land of gallant hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land of lovely forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The island of the mountain-harp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The torrents and the storms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land that blooms with freeman's tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And withers with the slave's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where far and deep the green woods spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wild the thistle waves.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere ever Ossian's lofty voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had told of Fingal's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere ever from their native clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman eagles came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our land had given heroes birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That durst the boldest brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught above tyrannic dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle tufts to wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What need we say how Wallace fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how his foemen fell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how on glorious Bannockburn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The work went wild and well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours is the land of gallant hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land of honour'd graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wreath of fame shall ne'er depart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While yet the thistle waves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE" id="THE_YELLOW_LOCKS_O_CHARLIE"></a>THE YELLOW LOCKS O' CHARLIE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' martial steps are bounding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud and lang, the wilds amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The war pipe's strains are sounding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sky and stream reflect the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of broadswords glancing rarely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guard till death the hills of heath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the foes o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let on high the banners fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hearts and hands rise prouder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wake amain the warlike strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still louder, and still louder;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Appin's mountains early,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yellow locks o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While banners wave aboon the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our foemen vainly gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swear to claim, by deeds o' fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hills and glens o' heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For seas shall swell to wild and fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crown green Appin fairly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere hearts so steel'd to foemen yield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rights o' royal Charlie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let the mountains hoary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Re-echo round the warlike sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That speaks of Highland glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For strains sublime, through future time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall tell the tale unsparely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Scotland's crown was placed aboon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yellow locks o' Charlie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN" id="WELL_MEET_YET_AGAIN"></a>WE'LL MEET YET AGAIN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sky shall be bright, and the bower shall be green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the visions of life shall be lovely before us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the sunshine of summer that sleeps o'er the scene.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The woodlands are sad when the green leaves are fading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sorrow is deep when the dearest must part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for each darker woe that our spirit is shading<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A joy yet more bright shall return to the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, when the pain, disconcerting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peace of our minds in a moment like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall melt into nought, like the tears of our parting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or live but in mem'ry to heighten our bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have loved in the hours when a hope scarce could find us;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We've loved when our hearts were the lightest of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the same tender tie that has bound still shall bind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the dark chain of fate shall have ceased to enthral.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll meet yet again, when the spirit of gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall breathe o'er the valley, and brighten its flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lone hearts of those who have long been in sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall gather delight from the transport of ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, thine are the charms, love, that never can perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thine is the star that my guide still shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alluring the hope in this soul that shall cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its life's dearest treasures, to share them with thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND" id="OUR_AIN_NATIVE_LAND"></a>OUR AIN NATIVE LAND.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a charm in the words that we a' understand,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That flings o'er the bosom the power of a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes us love mair what we a' love so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart may have feelings it canna conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the mind has the thoughts that nae words can reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But alike he the feelings and thought can command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who names but the name o' our ain native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bleak be its mountains and rugged its strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves aye seem bless'd, dancing wild o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When woke by the winds from the hills o' the free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sky oft is dark, and our storms loud and cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where are the hearts that sic worth can unfauld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As those that unite, and uniting expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they hear but the name o' our ain native land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear of her famed ones let none e'er demand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the hours o' a' time far too little would prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To name but the names that we honour and love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bard lives in light, though his heart it be still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cairn of the warrior stands gray on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And songster and sage can alike still command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A garland of fame from our ain native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our ain native land! our ain native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wild woods are glorious, her waterfalls grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her songs still proclaim, as they ring through the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charms of her maids and the worth of her men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her thistle shall cease in the breezes to wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the floweret to bloom on the patriot's grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere we cease to defend, with our heart and our hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freedom and faith of our ain native land.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG" id="THE_GRECIAN_WAR_SONG"></a>THE GRECIAN WAR SONG.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On! on to the fields, where of old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laurels of freedom were won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us think, as the banners of Greece we unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the brave in the pages of glory enroll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the deeds by our forefathers done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O yet, if there's aught that is dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let bravery's arm be its shield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let love of our country give power to each spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty's pale cheek dry its long-gather'd tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the light of the weapons we wield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake then to glory, that Greece yet may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land—the proud land of the famed and the free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rear! rear the proud trophies once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Persia's hosts were o'erthrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the song of our triumph arise on our shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the mountains give back the far sounds, as of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the fields where our foemen lie strewn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh ne'er shall our bold efforts cease<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the garlands of freedom shall wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In breezes, which, fraught with the tidings of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wander o'er all the fair islands of Greece,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cool not the lip of a slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake then to glory! that Greece yet may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land—the proud land of the famed and the free!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="FLORAS_LAMENT" id="FLORAS_LAMENT"></a>FLORA'S LAMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dismantled of all the gay hues that they wore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lost is my hope since the Prince of the Highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mong these, his wild mountains, can meet me no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! Charlie, how wrung was this heart when it found thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forlorn, and the die of thy destiny cast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy Flora was firm 'mid the perils around thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where were the brave of the land that had own'd thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That she—only she—should be true to the last?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The step's in the bark on the dark heaving waters,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now should have been on the floor of a throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, alas for auld Scotland, her sons and her daughters!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy wish was their welfare, thy cause was their own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'lorn may we sigh where the hill-winds awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weep in the glen where the cataracts foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep where the dew-drops are deep on the bracken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy foot has the land of thy fathers forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And more—never more will it yield thee a home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! yet when afar, in the land of the stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er on thy spirit remembrance may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her who was true in these moments of danger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reprove not the heart that still lives but for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night-shrouded flower from the dawning shall borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ray, all the glow of its charms to renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Charlie, ah! Charlie, no ray to thy Flora<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can dawn from thy coming to chase the dark sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which death, in thine absence, alone can subdue.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL" id="WHEN_THE_GLEN_ALL_IS_STILL"></a>WHEN THE GLEN ALL IS STILL.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Cold Frosty Morning."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the glen all is still, save the stream of the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the shepherd has ceased o'er the dark heath to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wail of the plover awakes on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inviting her mate to return to his home—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! meet me, Eliza, adown by the wild-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild daisies sleep 'mong the low-lying dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our bliss shall be sweet as the visions of childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pure as the fair star, in heaven's deep blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy locks shall be braided in drops of the gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fann'd by the far-travell'd breeze of the lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits of heaven shall know of thy coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And watch o'er our joy till the hour of the dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No woes shall we know of dark fortune's decreeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the past and the future my dreams may not be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the light of thine eye seems the home of my being,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my soul's fondest thoughts shall be gather'd to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SCOTLAND_YET6" id="SCOTLAND_YET6"></a>SCOTLAND YET.<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">Gae, bring my guid auld harp ance mair,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gae, bring it free and fast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I maun sing another sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere a' my glee be past;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And trow ye as I sing, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The burden o't shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heath waves wild upon her hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foaming frae the fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fountains sing o' freedom still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they dance down the dells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weel I lo'e the land, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's girded by the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thistle wags upon the fields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Wallace bore his blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave her foemen's dearest bluid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dye her auld gray plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking to the lift, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sang this doughty glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where freedom's voice ne'er rang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gie me the hills where Ossian lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Coila's minstrel sang;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For I've nae skill o' lands, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ken nae to be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Scotland's hills for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' a' the honours three.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE" id="THE_MINSTRELS_GRAVE"></a>THE MINSTREL'S GRAVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sat in the vale, 'neath the hawthorns so hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gloom of my bosom seem'd deep as their shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For remembrance was fraught with the far-travell'd story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That told where the dust of the minstrel was laid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw not his harp on the wild boughs above me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard not its anthems the mountains among;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the flow'rets that bloom'd on his grave were more lovely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than others would seem to the earth that belong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sleep on," said my soul, "in the depths of thy slumber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleep on, gentle bard! till the shades pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the lips of the living the ages shall number<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That steal o'er thy heart in its couch of decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! thou wert beloved from the dawn of thy childhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beloved till the last of thy suffering was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved now that o'er thee is waving the wild-wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the worm only living where rapture hath been.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Till the footsteps of time are their travel forsaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No form shall descend, and no dawning shall come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To break the repose that thy ashes are taking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And call them to life from their chamber of gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sleep, gentle bard! for, though silent for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy harp in the hall of the chieftain is hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No time from the mem'ry of mankind shall sever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tales that it told, and the strains that it sung."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE" id="OUR_OWN_LAND_AND_LOVED_ONE"></a>OUR OWN LAND AND LOVED ONE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Buccleuch Gathering."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the land that gave birth to the first breath we drew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such radiance but lives in the eye of the maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is dear to our heart—to our heart ever true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With her—yes, with her that this spirit has bless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath my dear native sky let my home only be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the valley of flowers, and the heath-covered waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall alike have a spell of enchantment for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let her eye pour its light o'er the joy of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mingle its beam with the gloom of my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each shadow of care from the soul shall depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save of care that on her it is bliss to bestow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My thought shall not travel to sun-lighted isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor my heart own a wish for the wealth they may claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But live and be bless'd in rewarding her smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the song of the harp that shall hallow her name.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The anthems of music delightful may roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or eloquence flow as the waves of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sounds that enchantment can shed o'er the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are—the lass that we love, and the land that is free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD" id="THE_BOWER_OF_THE_WILD"></a>THE BOWER OF THE WILD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar from the din and the dwellings of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where still I might linger in many a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingle my strains wi' the voice o' the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the cave and the cliff, where the hill foxes roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the earn has his nest and the raven his home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I brought the young flower-buds ere yet they had smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught them to bloom round my bower of the wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the fair maidens came, from yon vale far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought my lone grotto still day after day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon were the stems of their fair blossoms shorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the flowers of the bard might their ringlets adorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full fair were they all, but the maiden most fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would still have no flower till I pull'd it with care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle, and simple, and modest, and mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stole my lone heart in the bower of the wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer is past, and the maidens are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this heart, like my grotto, is wither'd and lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, with the winter, I'll cease not to mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless, with the blossoms, these fair ones return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! had they ne'er come, or had ne'er gone away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sing in my sorrow still day after day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scene seems a desert—the charm is exiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woe to my blooms and my bower of the wild!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID" id="THE_CROOK_AND_PLAID"></a>THE CROOK AND PLAID.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Ploughman."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he should own that tender love, that's only felt by few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he that has this bosom a' to fondest love betray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the faithfu' shepherd laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true to his lassie—he's aye true to his lassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who wears the crook and plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At morn he climbs the mountains wild his fleecy flocks to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er him sweet the laverock sings, new sprung frae 'mang the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doggie frolics roun' and roun', and may not weel be stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae blithe it is the laddie wi' that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At noon he leans him down upon the high and heathy fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And views his flocks, beneath him a', fair feeding in the dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there he sings the sangs o' love, the sweetest ever made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! how happy is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He pu's the bells o' heather red, and the lily-flowers sae meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca's the lily like my bosom, and the heath-bell like my cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His words are sweet and tender, as the dews frae heaven shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weel I love to list the lad who wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the dews begin to fauld the flowers, and the gloamin' shades draw on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the star comes stealing through the sky, and the kye are on the loan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He whistles through the glen sae sweet, the heart is lighter made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ken the laddie hameward hies who wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath the spreading hawthorn gray, that's growing in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He meets me in the gloamin' aye, when nane on earth can ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo and vow, and there I trow, whatever may be said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He kens aye unco weel the way to row me in his plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youth o' mony riches may to his fair one ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woo across the table cauld his madam-titled bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll gang to the hawthorn gray, where cheek to cheek is laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! nae wooers like the laddie that rows me in his plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he's aye true, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To own the truth o' tender love what heart wad no comply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since love gives purer happiness than aught aneath the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love be in the bosom, then the heart is ne'er afraid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through life I'll love the laddie that wears the crook and plaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he's aye true, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER" id="THE_MINSTRELS_BOWER"></a>THE MINSTREL'S BOWER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie Mary Hay."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! if thou'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave the wilds amang a bonnie bower for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave a bonnie bower o' the birks and willows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my heart thou'lt be what nae other e'er has been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the dew is on the flower, and the starlight on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bonnie green-wood bower I'll wake my harp to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll wake my hill-harp's strain, and the echoes o' the dell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall restore the tales again that its notes o' love shall tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! thou art fair as the morning's early beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the image of a flower reflected frae the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's kindness in thy heart, and there's language in thine e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! its looks impart nae sweet tale o' love to me!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lassie! wert thou mine I wad love thee wi' such love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the lips can ne'er define, and the cold can never prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the bower by yonder stream our happy home should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our life a blissful dream, while I lived alone for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I am far away my thoughts on thee shall rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allured, as by a ray, frae the dwellings o' the blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beneath the clouds o' dew, where'er my path may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! a maiden fair as thou, I again shall never see!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING" id="WHEN_THE_STAR_OF_THE_MORNING"></a>WHEN THE STAR OF THE MORNING.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the star of the morning is set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the heavens are beauteous and blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bells of the heather are wet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the drops of the deep-lying dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong the flocks on the mountains that lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas blithesome and blissful to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When these all my thoughts would employ;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now I must think upon thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When noontide displays all its powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flocks to the valley return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lie and to feed 'mong the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bloom on the banks of the burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet, sweet it was to recline<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath the shade of yon hoar hawthorn-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think on the charge that was mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now I must think upon thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Gloaming stole down from the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her fingers of shadowy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dews of the eve in her locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To spread down a couch for the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas sweet through yon green birks to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That border the brook and the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, 'tis a wearisome way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless it were travell'd with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All lovely and pure as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And generous of thought and of will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh Mary! speak thou to this heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bid its wild beating be still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd give all the ewes in the fold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd give all the lambs on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By night or by day to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One look of true kindness from thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM" id="THOUGH_ALL_FAIR_WAS_THAT_BOSOM"></a>THOUGH ALL FAIR WAS THAT BOSOM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though all fair was that bosom, heaving white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While hung this fond spirit o'er thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though that eye, with beauty's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still bedimm'd every eye before thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! charms there were still more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When woke that melting voice of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charms that caught this soul of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And taught it to adore thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then died the woes of the heart away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the thoughts of joys departed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my soul seem'd but to live in thy lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While it told of the faithful-hearted.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Methought how sweet it were to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far in some wild green glen with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all of life and of longing free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save what pure love imparted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! I could stray where the drops of dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never fell on the desert round me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dwell where the fair flowers never grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If the hymns of thy voice still found me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smile itself could the soul invest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all that here makes mortals bless'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While every thought thy lips express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In deeper love still bound me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE" id="WOULD_THAT_I_WERE_WHERE_WILD_WOODS_WAVE"></a>WOULD THAT I WERE WHERE WILD WOODS WAVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would that I were where wild woods wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aboon the beds where sleep the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the streams o' Scotia lave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her hills and glens o' grandeur!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where freedom reigns, and friendship dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as the sun upon the fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When autumn brings the heather-bells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all their native splendour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistle wi' the hawthorn joins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birks mix wi' the mountain pines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heart with dauntless heart combines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever to defend her.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There roam the kind, and live the leal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lofty ha' and lowly shiel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she for whom the heart must feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kindness still mair tender.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair, where the light hill breezes blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-flowers bloom by glen and shaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is fairer than them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherever she may wander.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, far or near, by wild or wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll love the generous, wise, and good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she shall share the dearest mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Heaven to life may render.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What boots it then thus on to stir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still from love's enjoyment err,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I to Scotland and to her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must all this heart surrender.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then would I were, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND" id="OH_TELL_ME_WHAT_SOUND"></a>OH! TELL ME WHAT SOUND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Paddy's Resource."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound that can most o'er our being prevail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the sweet melting voice of the maid we love dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When chanting the songs of her own native vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More thrilling is this than the tone of the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awakening the wind-harp's wild wandering lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More sweet than the songster that sings in the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the strains of the rest of the warblers are o'er.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what light, of the earth or the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can the deepest delight to the spirit impart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the bright beaming radiance that lives in the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the maid that affection has bound to the heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More charming is this than the glory of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More lovely than rays from yon heavens above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It heightens each joy, as it soothes every smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enchanting our souls with the magic of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! tell me what drop is most melting and meek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That aught 'neath the azure of heaven can share?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the tear-drop that falls o'er the dear maiden's cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she breathes o'er her lover her sigh and her prayer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More tender is this—more celestial and fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the dew-drop that springs from the chamber of morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A balm that still softens the ranklings of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heals every wound that the bosom hath borne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OUR_MARY7" id="OUR_MARY7"></a>OUR MARY.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Mary liket weel to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where clear the burn was rowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trouth she was, though I say sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fair as ought ere made o' clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And pure as ony gowan.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And happy, too, as ony lark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clud might ever carry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shunn'd the ill, and sought the good,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en mair than weel was understood;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a' fouk liket Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But she fell sick wi' some decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she was but eleven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she pined frae day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We grudged to see her gaun away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though she was gaun to Heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's fears for them that's far awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fykes for them are flitting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fears and cares, baith grit and sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We, by and by, o'er-pit them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But death there's nae o'er-pitting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And nature's bands are hard to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thus they maun be broken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en the form we loved to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We canna lang, dear though it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Preserve it as a token.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Mary had a gentle heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven did as gently free her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet lang afore she reach'd that part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear sir, it wad hae made ye start<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Had ye been there to see her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae changed, and yet sae sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And growing meek and meeker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' her lang locks o' yellow hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She wore a little angel's air,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere angels cam to seek her.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when she couldna stray out by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wee wild-flowers to gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She oft her household plays wad try,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hide her illness frae our eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lest she should grieve us farther.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ilka thing we said or did,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye pleased the sweet wee creature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed ye wad hae thought she had<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A something in her made her glad<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ayont the course o' nature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though disease, beyont remeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was in her frame indented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet aye the mair as she grew ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She grew and grew the lovelier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And mair and mair contented.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But death's cauld hour cam' on at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it to a' is comin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may it be, whene'er it fa's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae waur to others than it was<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To Mary, sweet wee woman!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS" id="MRS_MARGARET_M_INGLIS"></a>MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS.</h2> + + +<p>The writer of spirited and elegant poetry, Mrs Margaret Maxwell Inglis +was the youngest daughter of Alexander Murray, a medical practitioner, +who latterly accepted a small government situation in the town of +Sanquhar, Dumfriesshire. She was born at Sanquhar on the 27th October +1774, and at an early age became the wife of a Mr Finlay, who held a +subordinate post in the navy. On the death of her husband, which took +place in the West Indies, she resided with the other members of her +family in Dumfries; and in 1803, she married Mr John Inglis, only son of +John Inglis, D.D., minister of Kirkmabreck, in Galloway. By the death of +Mr Inglis in 1826, she became dependent, with three children by her +second marriage, on a small annuity arising from an appointment which +her late husband had held in the Excise. She relieved the sadness of her +widowhood by a course of extensive reading, and of composition both in +prose and verse. In 1838 she published, at the solicitation of friends, +a duodecimo volume, entitled "Miscellaneous Collection of Poems, chiefly +Scriptural Pieces." Of the compositions in this volume, there are +several of very superior merit, while the whole are marked by a vein of +elegant fancy.</p> + +<p>Mrs Inglis died in Edinburgh on the 21st December 1843. Eminently gifted +as a musician, she could boast of having been complimented by the poet +Burns on the grace with which she had, in his presence, sung his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +songs. Of retiring and unobtrusive habits, she mixed sparingly in +general society; but among her intimate friends, she was held in +estimation for the extent of her information and the unclouded +cheerfulness of her disposition. She has left some MSS. of poems and +songs, from which we have been privileged to make selections for the +present work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8" id="SWEET_BARD_OF_ETTRICKS_GLEN8"></a>SWEET BARD OF ETTRICK'S GLEN.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Banks of the Devon."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where art thou wandering?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miss'd is thy foot on the mountain and lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why round yon craggy rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wander thy heedless flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lambies are list'ning and bleating for thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold as the mountain stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale as the moonlight beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still is thy bosom, and closed is thine e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild may the tempest's wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweep o'er thy lonely grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art deaf to the storm—it is harmless to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Like a meteor's brief light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the breath of the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy life's dream hath pass'd as a shadow gone by;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till thy soft numbers stealing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er mem'ry's warm feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each line is embalm'd with a tear or a sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet was thy melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rich as the rose's dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding its odours o'er sorrow or glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love laugh'd on golden wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleasure's hand touch'd the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All taught the strain to sing, Shepherd, by thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cold on Benlomond's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flickers the drifted snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down its sides the wild cataracts foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winter's mad winds may sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fierce o'er each glen and steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rest is unbroken, and peaceful thy home.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when on dewy wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes the sweet bird of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting its notes on the bush or the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bird of the Wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Low in the waving grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall, cow'ring, sing sadly its farewell to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="YOUNG_JAMIE9" id="YOUNG_JAMIE9"></a>YOUNG JAMIE.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Drummond Castle."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE" id="CHARLIES_BONNETS_DOWN_LADDIE"></a>CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Tullymet."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bonnets blue and white cockades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put on their shields, unsheathe their blades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And conquest fell begin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the word be Scotland's heir:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when their swords can do nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let Hieland lasses spin, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Draw yer dirk and rin.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Ruthven light and trim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid Cressingham upon his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garr'd Edward gather up his pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ply his spurs and rin, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Charlie's bonnet's down, &c.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE" id="HEARD_YE_THE_BAGPIPE"></a>HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE?</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the broadswords, the shields and the tartan hose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kenn'd ye the nobles that revell'd sae rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillows his head on the heather sae barely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne down by lawless might—gallant Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="BRUCES_ADDRESS" id="BRUCES_ADDRESS"></a>BRUCE'S ADDRESS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tyrant's proud banners insultingly wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the slogan of battle from beauty's fond arms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roused the war-crested chieftain, his country to save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunbeam that rose on our mountain-clad warriors,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And reflected their shields in the green rippling wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its course saw the slain on the fields of their fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shed its last ray on their cold bloody graves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er those green beds of honour our war-song prepare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the red sword of vengeance triumphantly wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the ghosts of the slain cry aloud—Do not spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lead to victory and freedom, or die with the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the high soul of freedom no tyrant can fetter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the unshackled billows our proud shores that lave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though oppressed, he will watch o'er the home of his fathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest his wan cheek on the tomb of the brave.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To arms, then! to arms! Let the battle-cry rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the raven's hoarse croak, through their ranks let it sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set their knell on the wing of each arrow that flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the shouts of the free shake the mountains around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the cold-blooded, faint-hearted changeling now tremble,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the war-shock shall reach to his dark-centered cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the laurels that twine round the brows of the victors<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall with rev'rence be strew'd o'er the tombs of the brave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION" id="REMOVED_FROM_VAIN_FASHION"></a>REMOVED FROM VAIN FASHION.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Removed from vain fashion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From title's proud ken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a straw-cover'd cottage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep hid in yon glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There dwells a sweet flow'ret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure, lovely, and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rear'd, like the snowdrop,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Midst hardships' chill air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No soft voice of kindred,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or parent she knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the desert she blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the sweet mountain rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the little stray'd lammie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bleats on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's soft, kind, and gentle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dear, dear to me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the rich dews of fortune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er water'd this stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor one fostering sunbeam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Matured the rich gem—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! give me that pure bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lot let me share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll laugh at distinction,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smile away care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN" id="WHEN_SHALL_WE_MEET_AGAIN"></a>WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN?</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When shall we meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meet ne'er to sever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall Peace wreath her chain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round us for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall our hearts repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe from each breath that blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this dark world of woes?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never! oh, never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fate's unrelenting hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long may divide us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in one holy land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One God shall guide us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, on that happy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care ne'er shall reach us more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's vain delusions o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Angels beside us.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, where no storms can chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">False friends deceive us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, with protracted thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope cannot grieve us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There with the pure in heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from fate's venom'd dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall we meet to part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never! oh, never!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_KING" id="JAMES_KING"></a>JAMES KING.</h2> + + +<p>James King was born in Paisley in 1776. His paternal ancestors, for a +course of centuries, were farmers in the vicinity of Gleniffer Braes. +Having been only one year at school, he was, at the age of eight, +required to assist his father in his trade of muslin-weaving. Joining a +circulating library, he soon acquired an acquaintance with books; he +early wrote verses, and became the intimate associate of Tannahill, who +has honourably mentioned him in one of his poetical epistles. In his +fifteenth year he enlisted in a fencible regiment, which was afterwards +stationed at Inverness. On its being disembodied in 1798, he returned to +the loom at Paisley, where he continued till 1803, when he became a +recruit in the Renfrewshire county militia. He accompanied this regiment +to Margate, Deal, Dover, Portsmouth, and London, and subsequently to +Leith, the French prisoners' depôt at Penicuick, and the Castle of +Edinburgh. At Edinburgh his poetical talents recommended him to some +attention from Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick Shepherd, and several +others of the poets of the capital.</p> + +<p>Accused of exciting disaffection, and promoting an attempt made by a +portion of his comrades to resist lawful authority while the regiment +was stationed at Perth, King, though wholly innocent of the charge, +fearing the vengeance of the adjutant, who was hostile to him, contrived +to effect his escape. By a circuitous route, so as to elude the +vigilance of parties sent to apprehend him, he reached the district of +Galloway,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> where he obtained employment as a shepherd and agricultural +labourer. He subsequently wrought as a weaver at Crieff till 1815, when, +on his regiment being disembodied, he was honourably acquitted from the +charge preferred against him, and granted his discharge. He now settled +as a muslin-weaver, first at Glasgow, and afterwards at Paisley and +Charleston. He died at Charleston, near Paisley, on the 27th September +1849, in his seventy-third year.</p> + +<p>Of vigorous intellect, lively fancy, and a keen appreciation of the +humorous, King was much esteemed among persons of a rank superior to his +own. His mind was of a fine devotional cast, and his poetical +compositions are distinguished by earnestness of expression and +sentiment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST" id="THE_LAKE_IS_AT_REST"></a>THE LAKE IS AT REST.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lake is at rest, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun's on its breast, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright is its water, how pleasant to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its verdant banks shewing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The richest flowers blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A picture of bliss and an emblem of thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then, O fairest maiden!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When earth is array'd in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauties of heaven o'er mountain and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me still delight in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glories that brighten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But, Anna, why redden?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not, fair maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The traitor, the demon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That could deceive woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul's all unfit for the glories of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Believe me then, fairest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me thou art dearest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With flower blooming mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crystalline fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW" id="LIFES_LIKE_THE_DEW"></a>LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Scott's Boat Song."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At length from the hill I heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Plaintively wild, a bard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Remember what Morard says,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morard of many days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad is the song that the bugle-horns sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though lovely the standard it waves o'er the mangled slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widows' sighs stretching its broad gilded wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hard are the laws that bind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor foolish man and blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cheeks with health's roses spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till time clothes with snow thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wouldst thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocence leads to the summit of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tyrant, whose hands are red,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembles alone in bed;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No horror fiends haunt his rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hope fills his placid breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ceased the soft voice, for gray mist was descending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still from the hoary bard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Methought the sweet song I heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft as I pass along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chimes in mine ear his song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ISOBEL_PAGAN" id="ISOBEL_PAGAN"></a>ISOBEL PAGAN.</h2> + + +<p>The author of a sweet pastoral lyric, which has been praised both by +Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham, Isobel Pagan claims a biographical +notice. She was born in the parish of New Cumnock, Ayrshire, about the +year 1741. Deserted by her relations in youth, and possessing only an +imperfect education, she was led into a course of irregularities which +an early moral training would have probably prevented. She was lame and +singularly ill-favoured, but her manners were spirited and amusing. Her +chief employment was the composition of verses, and these she sung as a +mode of subsistence. She published, in 1805, a volume of doggerel +rhymes, and was in the habit of satirising in verse those who had +offended her. Her one happy effort in song-making has preserved her +name. She lived chiefly in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk. She died on +the 3d November 1821, in her eightieth year, and her remains were +interred in the churchyard of Muirkirk. A tombstone marks her grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10" id="CA_THE_YOWES_TO_THE_KNOWES10"></a>CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ca' the yowes to the knowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca' them where the heather grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ca' them where the burnie rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I gaed down the water-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I met my shepherd lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' he ca'd me his dearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Will ye gang down the water-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the waves sae sweetly glide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the hazels spreading wide?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moon it shines fu' clearly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cauf-leather shoon to thy white feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye shall be my dearie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye may row me in your plaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I shall be your dearie."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While water wimples to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While day blinks in the lift sae hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye shall be my dearie."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_MITCHELL" id="JOHN_MITCHELL"></a>JOHN MITCHELL.</h2> + + +<p>John Mitchell, the Paisley bard, died in that place on the 12th August +1856, in his seventieth year. He was born at Paisley in 1786. The labour +of weaving he early sought to relieve by the composition of verses. He +contributed pieces, both in prose and verse, to the <i>Moral and Literary +Observer</i>, a small Paisley periodical of the year 1823, and of which he +was the publisher. In 1838, he appeared as the author of "A Night on the +Banks of the Doon, and other Poems," a volume which was followed in 1840 +by "The Wee Steeple's Ghaist, and other Poems and Songs," the latter +being dedicated to Professor Wilson. In the year 1840, he likewise +produced, jointly with a Mr Dickie, the "Philosophy of Witchcraft," a +work which, published by Messrs Oliver and Boyd, was well received. His +next publication appeared in 1845, with the title, "One Hundred Original +Songs." His last work, "My Gray Goose Quill, and other Poems and Songs," +was published in 1852.</p> + +<p>Mitchell employed himself latterly in forwarding the sale of his +publications, and succeeded by this course in securing a comfortable +maintenance. He wrote verses with much readiness, and occasionally with +considerable power. His songs, which we have selected for the present +work, are distinguished by graceful simplicity and elegant pathos. Had +Mitchell written less, and more carefully, he had reached a higher niche +in the Temple of National Song. His manners were eccentric, and he was +not unconscious of his poetical endowments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="BEAUTY" id="BEAUTY"></a>BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wakes the Poet's lyre?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What kindles his poetic fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes him seek, at evening's hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely glen, the leafy bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When dew hangs on each little flower?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! it is Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What melts the soldier's soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can his love of fame control?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oft, amid the battle's rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lovely vision will engage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such power has Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What tames the savage mood?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gives a polish to the rude?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gives the peasant's lowly state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A charm which wealth cannot create,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the good alone will wait?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis faithful Beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let our favourite toast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be Beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not king and peasant's boast?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, Beauty;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then let us guard with tender care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle, th' inspiring fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love will a diviner air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Impart to Beauty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="TO_THE_EVENING_STAR" id="TO_THE_EVENING_STAR"></a>TO THE EVENING STAR.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Star of descending Night!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lovely and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Robed in thy mellow light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Subtle and rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence are thy silvery beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That o'er lone ocean gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in our crystal streams<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dip their bright hair?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Far in yon liquid sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where streamers play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the red lightnings fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hold'st thou thy way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds may envelop thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winds rave o'er land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er them thy march is free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As thine own ray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME" id="OH_WAFT_ME_TO_THE_FAIRY_CLIME"></a>OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! waft me to the fairy clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Fancy loves to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Hope is ever in her prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Friendship has a home;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There will I wander by the streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Song and Dance combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my rosy waking dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ecstatic joys to twine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Music's swell my thoughts will soar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above created things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And revel on the boundless shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of rapt imaginings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fancy will explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek, far from the haunts of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Poet's mystic lore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love will add gladness to the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And strew my path with flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Joy with Innocence will lean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid my rosy bowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then waft me to the fairy clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Fancy loves to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Hope is ever in her prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Friendship has a home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID" id="THE_LOVE-SICK_MAID"></a>THE LOVE-SICK MAID.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can the doctor cure her woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she will not let him know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why the tears incessant flow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the love-sick maid?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flaunting day, the flaunting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she sits and pines alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will comfort take from none;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, the very colour's gone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the love-sick maid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The secret 's out, the secret 's out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she finds at e'ening's hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a rosy woodland bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charms worth a prince's dower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To a love-sick maid.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_JAMIESON" id="ALEXANDER_JAMIESON"></a>ALEXANDER JAMIESON.</h2> + + +<p>Alexander Jamieson was born in the village of Dalmellington, Ayrshire, +on the 29th January 1789. After a course of study at the University of +Edinburgh, he obtained licence as a medical practitioner. In 1819, he +settled as a surgeon and apothecary in the town of Alloa. A skilful +mechanician, he constructed a small printing-press for his own use; he +was likewise ardently devoted to the study of botany. He composed verses +with remarkable facility, many of which he contributed to the <i>Stirling +Journal</i> newspaper. His death was peculiarly melancholy: he had formed +one of a pic-nic party, on a fine summer day, to the summit of +Bencleugh, one of the Ochils, and descending by a shorter route to visit +a patient at Tillicoultry, he missed his footing, and was precipitated +about two hundred feet into one of the ravines. He was early next +morning discovered by a shepherd, but only survived a few hours +afterwards. His death took place on the 26th July 1826. Possessed of +varied talents, and excellent dispositions, Jamieson was deeply +regretted by his friends. He left a widow, who died lately in +Dunfermline. His songs, of which two specimens are adduced, afford +evidence of power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11" id="THE_MAID_WHO_WOVE11"></a>THE MAID WHO WOVE.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><i>"Russian Air."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maid who wove the rosy wreath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every flower—hath wrought a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though her chaplets fragrance breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And balmy sweets—I know full well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath every bud, or blossom gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lurks a chain—Love's tyranny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though round her ruby lips, enshrin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits stillness, soft as evening skies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though crimson'd cheek you seldom find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or glances from her downcast eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lurks, unseen, a world of charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ne'er betray young Love's alarms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O trust not to her silent tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her settled calm, or absent smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dream that nymph, so fair and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May not enchain in Love's soft guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For where Love is—or what's Love's spell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mortal knows—no tongue can tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE" id="A_SIGH_AND_A_SMILE"></a>A SIGH AND A SMILE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Welsh Air</span>—<i>"Sir William Watkin Wynne."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Beauty's soft lip, like the balm of its roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or breath of the morning, a sigh took its flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor far had it stray'd forth, when Pity proposes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanderer should lodge in this bosom a night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But scarce had the guest, in that peaceful seclusion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lodging secured, when a conflict arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each feeling was changed, every thought was delusion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor longer my breast knew the calm of repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They say that young Love is a rosy-cheek'd bowyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At random the shafts from his silken string fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But surely the urchin of peace is destroyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose arrows are dipp'd in the balm of a sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O yes! for he whisper'd, "To Beauty's shrine hie thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There worship to Cupid, and wait yet awhile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cure she can give, with the balm can supply thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wound from a sigh can be cured by a smile."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_GOLDIE" id="JOHN_GOLDIE"></a>JOHN GOLDIE.</h2> + + +<p>A short-lived poet and song-writer of some promise, John Goldie was born +at Ayr on the 22d December 1798. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, was a respectable shipmaster. Obtaining an ample education at the +academy of his native town, he became, in his fifteenth year, assistant +to a grocer in Paisley; he subsequently held a similar situation in a +stoneware and china shop in Glasgow. In 1821 he opened, on his own +account, a stoneware establishment at Ayr; but proving unfortunate in +business, he abandoned the concerns of trade. From his boyhood being +devoted to literature he now resolved on its cultivation as a means of +support. Already known as an occasional contributor, both in prose and +verse, to the public press, he received the appointment of assistant +editor of the <i>Ayr Courier</i>, and shortly after obtained the entire +literary superintendence of that journal. In 1821, he published a +pamphlet of respectable verses; and in the following year appeared as +the author of a duodecimo volume of "Poems and Songs," which he +inscribed to the Ettrick Shepherd. Of the compositions in the latter +publication, the greater portion, he intimates in the preface, "were +composed at an early age, chiefly betwixt the years of sixteen and +twenty;" and as the production of a very young man, the volume is +altogether creditable to his genius and taste.</p> + +<p>Deprived of the editorship of the <i>Courier</i>, in consequence of a change +in the proprietary, Goldie proceeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> to London, in the hope of forming +a connexion with some of the leading newspapers in the metropolis. +Unsuccessful in this effort, he formed the project of publishing <i>The +London Scotsman</i>, a newspaper to be chiefly devoted to the consideration +of Scottish affairs. Lacking that encouragement necessary to the +ultimate success of this adventure, he abandoned the scheme after the +third publication, and in very reduced circumstances returned to +Scotland. He now projected the <i>Paisley Advertiser</i>, of which the first +number appeared on the 9th October 1824. The editorship of this +newspaper he retained till his death, which took place suddenly on the +27th February 1826, in his twenty-eighth year.</p> + +<p>Of a vigorous intellect, and possessed of a correct literary taste, +Goldie afforded excellent promise of eminence as a journalist. As a poet +and song-writer, a rich vein of humour pervades certain of his +compositions, while others are marked by a plaintive tenderness. Of +sociable and generous dispositions, he was much esteemed by a circle of +admiring friends. His personal appearance was pleasing, and his +countenance wore the aspect of intelligence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM" id="AND_CAN_THY_BOSOM"></a>AND CAN THY BOSOM?</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Loudon's Bonnie Woods and Braes."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And can thy bosom bear the thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To part frae love and me, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all those plighted vows forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canst thou forget the midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in yon love-inspiring bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You vow'd by every heavenly power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Win my heart and then deceive me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that heart will break, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin' ye part wi' me, laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aft praised my sparkling e'e, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But love and live wi' me, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon those cheeks will lose their red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes in endless sleep be hid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'neath the turf the heart be laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That beats for love and thee, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Win my heart and then deceive me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that heart will break, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye part frae me, laddie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where rarer beauties shine, laddie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! the heart can never bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A love sae true as mine, laddie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But when that heart is laid at rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heart that lo'ed ye last and best—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then the pangs that rend thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will sharper be than mine, laddie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken vows will vex and grieve me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a broken heart relieve me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet its latest thought, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will be love an' thine, laddie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SWEETS_THE_DEW" id="SWEETS_THE_DEW"></a>SWEET'S THE DEW.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lily fair to see, Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there's ne'er a flower that blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is half so fair as thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The opening rose its beauties tine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lips the rubies far outshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love sparkles in thine e'e, Annie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snaw that decks yon mountain top<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae purer is than thee, Annie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haughty mien and pridefu' look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy sweet angelic face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant beams each modest grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A form sae bright as thine, Annie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wha could behold thy rosy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart could view thy smiling looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And plot to do thee wrang, Annie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, my soul, wi' thee I'll leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never, till I cease to breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll cease to think on thee, Annie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_POLLOK" id="ROBERT_POLLOK"></a>ROBERT POLLOK.</h2> + + +<p>Robert Pollok, author of the immortal poem, "The Course of Time," was +the son of a small farmer in the parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, +where he was born on the 19th October 1798. With a short interval of +employment in the workshop of a cabinetmaker, he was engaged till his +seventeenth year in services about his father's farm. Resolving to +prepare for the ministry in the Secession Church, he took lessons in +classical learning at the parish school of Fenwick, Ayrshire, and in +twelve months fitted himself for the university. He attended the +literary and philosophical classes in Glasgow College, during five +sessions, and subsequently studied in the Divinity Hall of the United +Secession Church. He wrote verses in his boyhood, in his eighteenth year +composed a poetical essay, and afterwards produced respectable +translations from the Classics as college exercises. His great poem, +"The Course of Time," was commenced in December 1824, and finished +within the space of nineteen months. On the 24th March 1827, the poem +was published by Mr Blackwood; and on the 2d of the following May the +author received his license as a probationer. The extraordinary success +of his poem had excited strong anticipations in respect of his +professional career, but these were destined to disappointment. Pollok +only preached four times. His constitution, originally robust, had +suffered from over exertion in boyhood, and more recently from a course +of sedulous application in preparing for license, and in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> production +of his poem. To recruit his wasted strength, a change of climate was +necessary, and that of Italy was recommended. The afflicted poet only +reached Southampton, where he died a few weeks after his arrival, on the +18th September 1827. In Millbrook churchyard, near Southampton, where +his remains were interred, a monument has been erected to his memory.</p> + +<p>Besides his remarkable poem, Pollok published three short tales relative +to the sufferings of the Covenanters. He had projected a large work +respecting the influences which Christianity had exercised upon +literature. Since his death, several short poetical pieces from his pen +have, along with a memoir, been published by his brother. In person he +was of the ordinary height, and of symmetrical form. His complexion was +pale brown; his features small, and his eyes dark and piercing. "He +was," writes Mr Gabriel Neil, who enjoyed his friendship, "of plain +simple manners, with a well-cultivated mind; he loved debate, and took +pleasure in good-humoured controversy." The copyright of "The Course of +Time" continues to produce emolument to the family.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_AFRICAN_MAID" id="THE_AFRICAN_MAID"></a>THE AFRICAN MAID.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! well might she gaze—in the ship's hollow side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moan'd her Zoopah in chains—in the chains of a slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Great Spirit! why slumber'd the wrath of thy clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the savage white men dragg'd my Zoopah away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why linger'd the panther far back in his woods?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah cruel white monsters! plague poison their breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sleep never visit the place of their bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On their children and wives, on their life and their death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abide still the curse of an African maid!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="J_C_DENOVAN" id="J_C_DENOVAN"></a>J. C. DENOVAN.</h2> + + +<p>J. C. Denovan was born at Edinburgh in 1798. Early evincing a +predilection for a seafaring life, he was enabled to enter a sloop of +war, with the honorary rank of a midshipman. After accomplishing a +single voyage, he was necessitated, by the death of his father, to +abandon his nautical occupation, and to seek a livelihood in Edinburgh. +He now became, in his sixteenth year, apprentice to a grocer; and he +subsequently established himself as a coffee-roaster in the capital. He +died in 1827. Of amiable dispositions, he was an agreeable and +unassuming member of society. He courted the Muse to interest his hours +of leisure, and his poetical aspirations received the encouragement of +Sir Walter Scott and other men of letters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE" id="OH_DERMOT_DEAR_LOVED_ONE"></a>OH DERMOT, DEAR LOVED ONE!</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou hast left me, dear Dermot! to cross the wide seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy Norah lives grieving in sadness forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She laments and looks back on the past happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy presence had left her no object to mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Those days that are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too joyous to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pang leaves behind them, 'tis Heaven's decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No joy now is mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sadness I pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Dermot, dear Dermot, returns back to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Dermot, dear Dermot! why, why didst thou leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl who holds thee so dear in her heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! couldst thou hold a thought that would cause her to grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or think for one moment from Norah to part?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Couldst thou reconcile<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To leave this dear isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a far unknown country, where dangers there be?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh! for thy dear sake<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This poor heart will break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou, dear beloved one, return not to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In silence I 'll weep till my Dermot doth come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone will I wander by moon, noon, and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still praying of Heaven to send him safe home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her who 'll embrace him with joy and delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then come, like a dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy faithful love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart will entwine thee, fond, joyous, and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From danger's alarms<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Speed to her open arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Dermot, dear loved one! return back to me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_IMLAH" id="JOHN_IMLAH"></a>JOHN IMLAH.</h2> + + +<p>John Imlah, one of the sweetest and most patriotic of Scottish +song-writers, was born in North Street, Aberdeen, about the close of the +year 1799. His progenitors were farmers in the parish of Fyvie, but his +father followed the profession of an innkeeper. Of seven sons, born in +succession to his parents, the poet was the youngest. On completing an +ordinary education at the grammar-school, he was apprenticed to a +pianoforte maker in Aberdeen. Excelling as a piano-tuner he, in this +capacity, sought employment in London, and was fortunate in procuring an +engagement from the Messrs Broadwood. For the first six months of the +year he performed the duties of a tuner in the metropolis, and during +the remaining six months prosecuted his vocation in Scotland. Attached +to his native country, he took delight in celebrating her strains. He +composed songs from his boyhood. In 1827, he published "May Flowers," a +duodecimo volume of lyrics, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, which he +followed by a second volume of "Poems and Songs" in 1841. He contributed +to Macleod's "National Melodies" and the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>. +On the 9th January 1846, his death took place at Jamaica, whither he had +gone on a visit to one of his brothers.</p> + +<p>Imlah was a person of amiable dispositions and agreeable manners. Of his +numerous lyrics, each is distinguished by a rich fancy, and several of +his songs will maintain a lasting place in the national minstrelsy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="KATHLEEN" id="KATHLEEN"></a>KATHLEEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Humours of Glen."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O distant but dear is that sweet island, wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hopes with my Kathleen and kindred abide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far though I wander from thee, emerald Erin!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No space can the links of my love-chain divide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairest spot of the earth! brightest gem of the ocean!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How oft have I waken'd my wild harp in thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, with eye of expression, and heart of emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Listen'd, Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bloom of the moss-rose, the blush of the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soft cheek of Kathleen discloses their dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ruby can rival the lip of mavourneen?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sight-dazzling diamond can equal her eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her silken hair vies with the sunbeam in brightness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And white is her brow as the surf of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="HIELAN_HEATHER" id="HIELAN_HEATHER"></a>HIELAN' HEATHER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to me, an' aye shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moss-muir black an' mountain blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young lads and lasses trip thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The native Norlan rant and reel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the halesome Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The purple bells o' Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fancy fondly travels thither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae countrie charms, nae customs change<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My feelings frae the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey, for the Hielan' heather!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND" id="FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND"></a>FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Kinloch."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loved land of my kindred, farewell—and for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fated with each fond endearment to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dearest regard and the deepest regret.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your peaks are the king-eagle's thrones—where have rested<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The snow-falls of ages—eternally white.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! never again shall the falls of your fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wild murmur'd music awake on mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the lake's lustre, that mirrors your mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll pore on with pleasure—deep, lonely, yet dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet—yet Caledonia! when slumber comes o'er me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! oft will I dream of thee, far, far, away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vain are the visions that rapture restore me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waken and weep at the dawn of the day.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ere gone the last glimpse, faint and far o'er the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where yet my heart dwells—where it ever shall dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While tongue, sigh and tear, speak my spirit's emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country—my kindred—farewell, oh farewell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE" id="THE_ROSE_OF_SEATON_VALE"></a>THE ROSE OF SEATON VALE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bonnie Rose bloom'd wild and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sweet a bud I trow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever breathed the morning air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or drank the evening dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Zephyr loved the blushing flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sigh and fond love tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It woo'd within its briery bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With wakening kiss the Zephyr press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This bud at morning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At noon it fann'd its glowing breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nestled there at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But other flowers sprung up thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lured the roving gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Zephyr left to droop and die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A matchless maiden dwelt by Don,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loved by as fair a youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long had their young hearts throbb'd as one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' tenderness and truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy warmest tear, soft Pity, pour—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Ellen's type and tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are in that sweet, ill-fated flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Rose of Seaton Vale.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="KATHERINE_AND_DONALD" id="KATHERINE_AND_DONALD"></a>KATHERINE AND DONALD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Donald dearer loved than life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The proud Dunallan's daughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, barr'd by feudal hate and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain he loved and sought her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loved the Lord of Garry's glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chieftain of Clanronald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand plaided Highlandmen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clasp'd the claymore for Donald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Scotland rush'd the Danish hordes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan met his foemen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath him bared ten thousand swords<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of vassal, serf, and yeomen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fray was fierce—and at its height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was seen a visor'd stranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With red lance foremost in the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unfearing Dane and danger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be praised—brave knight! thy steel hath striven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sharpest in the slaughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crave what thou wilt of me—though even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My fair—my darling daughter!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lifts the visor from his face—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chieftain of Clanronald!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And foes enclasp in friends' embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan and young Donald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feast-cup glads Glengarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joy that should for ever be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When mutual lovers marry.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The shout and shell the revellers raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dunallan and Clanronald;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And minstrel measures pour to praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A" id="GUID_NIGHT_AN_JOY_BE_WI_YOU_A"></a>GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since it is sae that I maun gang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang again as wearie lang.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I sae sune sou'd haste awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But since it's sae that I maun gae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This night I ween we've had the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gar auld Time tak' to his feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes us a' fu' laith to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But aye mair fain again to meet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dree the winter's drift and weet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sic a night is nocht ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hours the sweetest o' the sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In younker revels fidgin' fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like daffin hizzies, young again!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've deftly danced the time awa':<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We met in mirth—we part wi' pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My nimble gray neighs at the yett,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've clapt the spur upon my buit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The guid braid bonnet on my brow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then night is wearing late I trow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hame lies mony a mile awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mair's my need to mount and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_GATHERING12" id="THE_GATHERING12"></a>THE GATHERING.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Belt on your broad claymores—fight for Prince Charlie;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Down from the mountain steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up from the valley deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out from the clachan, the bothie, and shieling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bugle and battle-drum<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bid chief and vassal come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men of the mountains—descendants of heroes!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, shall the Southern—the Sassenach fear us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too long on the trophied walls<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of your ancestral halls,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Seize then, ye mountain Macs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Buckler and battle-axe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Follow your leader—the rightful—the royal!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Chief of Clanronald,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Donald Macdonald!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rouse every kilted clan,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rouse every loyal man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MARY" id="MARY"></a>MARY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Dawtie."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There lives a young lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far down yon lang glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I lo'e that lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nae ane can ken!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! a saint's faith may vary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But faithfu' I'll be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Mary lo'es me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Red, red as the rowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her smiling wee mou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' white as the gowan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her breast and her brow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the foot o' a fairy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She links o'er the lea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Mary lo'es me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where yon tall forest timmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' lowly broom bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sunshine o' simmer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread verdure an' flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, when night clouds the cary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside her I'll be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weel I lo'e Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Mary lo'es me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3><a name="OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS" id="OH_GIN_I_WERE_WHERE_GADIE_RINS"></a>OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.<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">Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Border Nith, and Highland Spey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer far to me than they<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The braes o' Bennachie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When blade and blossoms sprout in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the burdies wag the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They blithely bob, and soar, and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When simmer cleeds the varied scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain would be where aft I've been<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er icy burn and sheeted hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ingle neuk is gleesome still<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though few to welcome me remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a' I loved be dead and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll back, though I should live alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the foot o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_TWEEDIE" id="JOHN_TWEEDIE"></a>JOHN TWEEDIE.</h2> + + +<p>John Tweedie was born in the year 1800, in the vicinity of Peebles, +where his father was a shepherd. Obtaining a classical education, he +proceeded to the University of Edinburgh, to prosecute his studies for +the Established Church. By acting as a tutor during the summer months, +he was enabled to support himself at the university, and after the usual +curriculum, he was licensed as a probationer. Though possessed of +popular talents as a preacher, he was not successful in obtaining a +living in the Church. During his probationary career, he was employed as +a tutor in the family of the minister of Newbattle, assisted in the +parish of Eddleston, and ultimately became missionary at Stockbridge, +Edinburgh. He died at Linkfieldhall, Musselburgh, on the 29th February +1844. Tweedie was a person of amiable dispositions and unaffected piety; +he did not much cultivate his gifts as a poet, but the following song +from his pen, to the old air, "Saw ye my Maggie," has received a +considerable measure of popularity.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE" id="SAW_YE_MY_ANNIE"></a>SAW YE MY ANNIE?</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw ye my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wading 'mang the dew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Annie walks as light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shadow in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or downy cloudlet light<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Alang the fields o' blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What like is your Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That we may ken her be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's fair as nature's flush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe as dawning's blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle as the hush<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When e'ening faulds her e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder comes my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bounding o'er the lea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lammies play before her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birdies whistle o'er her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mysell adore her,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In heavenly ecstasy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my arms, my Annie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Speed, speed, like winged day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Annie's rosy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiled fair as morning's streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We felt, but couldna speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Neath love's enraptured sway.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_ATKINSON" id="THOMAS_ATKINSON"></a>THOMAS ATKINSON.</h2> + + +<p>Thomas Atkinson, a respectable writer of prose and verse, was born at +Glasgow about the year 1800. Having completed an apprenticeship to Mr +Turnbull, bookseller, Trongate, he entered into copartnership with Mr +David Robertson, subsequently King's publisher in the city. Of active +business habits, he conducted, along with his partner, an extensive +bookselling trade, yet found leisure for the pursuits of elegant +literature. At an early age he published "The Sextuple Alliance," a +series of poems on the subject of Napoleon Bonaparte, which afforded +considerable promise, and received the commendation of Sir Walter Scott. +In 1827, he published "The Ant," a work in two volumes, one of which +consists of entirely original, and the other of selected matter. "The +Chameleon," a publication of the nature of an annual, commenced in 1831, +and extended to three octavo volumes. Of this work, a <i>melange</i> of prose +and poetry, the contents for the greater part were of his own +composition. The last volume appeared in September 1833, shortly before +his death.</p> + +<p>Deeply interested in the public affairs, Atkinson was distinguished as a +public speaker. At the general election, subsequent to the passing of +the Reform Bill, he was invited to become a candidate in the liberal +interest for the parliamentary representation of the Stirling burghs, in +opposition to Lord Dalmeny, who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> returned. Naturally of a sound +constitution, the exertions of his political canvass superinduced an +illness, which terminated in pulmonary consumption. During a voyage he +had undertaken to Barbadoes for the recovery of his health, he died at +sea on the 10th October 1833. His remains, placed in an oaken coffin, +which he had taken along with him, were buried in the deep. He +bequeathed a sum, to be applied, after accumulation, in erecting a +building in Glasgow for scientific purposes. A monument to his memory +has been erected in the Glasgow Necropolis. The following stanzas were +composed by the dying poet at the outset of his voyage, and less than +three weeks prior to his decease; they are dated the "River Mersey," +21st September 1833:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I could not, as I gazed my last—there was on me a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all its simple agony—breathe that lone word—"Farewell,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hath no hope that clings to it, the closer as it dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In song alone 'twould pass the lips that loved the dear disguise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I go across a bluer wave than now girds round my bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As forth the dove went trembling—but to my Father's ark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I return? I may not ask my doubting heart, but yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hope and wish in one—how hard the lesson to forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But drooping head and feeble limbs—and, oh! a beating heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remind the vow'd to sing no more of all his weary part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, with a voice that trembles as the sounds unloose the spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this, his last and rudest lay, he now can breathe—"Farewell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the "Chameleon" several of Mr Atkinson's songs are set to music, but, +with the exception of "Mary Shearer," none of them are likely to obtain +popularity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MARY_SHEARER" id="MARY_SHEARER"></a>MARY SHEARER.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's aff and awa', like the lang summer-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But lang for blithe Mary fu' mony may weary.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For mair hearts than mine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But nane mair will pine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">For the sweet Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She cam' wi' the spring, just like ane o' its flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the blue-bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their sweet breath is fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Her kind looks still endear her;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For the heart maun be dead<br /></span> +<span class="i8">That forgets Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! he maun be bless'd<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Wha's allow'd to be near her;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For the fairest and best<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O' her kind 's Mary Shearer!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But farewell Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country and kin,—since I 've sae lov'd the stranger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whare she 's been maun be either a pine or a heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Though I try to forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">In my heart still I 'll wear her,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">For mine may be yet—<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Name and a'—Mary Shearer!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_GARDINER" id="WILLIAM_GARDINER"></a>WILLIAM GARDINER.</h2> + + +<p>William Gardiner, the author of "Scotland's Hills," was born at Perth +about the year 1800. He established himself as a bookseller in +Cupar-Fife. During a period of residence in Dundee, in acquiring a +knowledge of his trade, he formed the acquaintance of the poet Vedder. +With the assistance of this gifted individual, he composed his popular +song of "Scotland's Hills." Introduced at a theatre in Dundee, it was +received with marked approbation. It was first printed, in January 1829, +in the <i>Fife Herald</i> newspaper, with a humorous preface by Vedder, and +was afterwards copied into the <i>Edinburgh Literary Gazette</i>. It has +since found a place in many of the collections of Scottish song, and has +three different times been set to music.</p> + +<p>Gardiner was unfortunate as a bookseller, and ultimately obtained +employment in the publishing office of the <i>Fife Herald</i>. He died at +Perth on the 4th July 1845. Some years before his death, he published a +volume of original and selected compositions, under the title of +"Gardiner's Miscellany." He was a person of amiable dispositions; and to +other good qualities of a personal character, added considerable skill +in music.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15" id="O_SCOTLANDS_HILLS_FOR_ME15"></a>O SCOTLAND'S HILLS FOR ME!<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">O these are not my country's hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though they seem bright and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though flow'rets deck their verdant sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heather blooms not there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me behold the mountain steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wild deer roaming free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heathy glen, the ravine deep—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rose, through all this garden-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May shed its rich perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I would rather wander 'mong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My country's bonnie broom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sings the shepherd on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ploughman on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lives my blithesome mountain maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The throstle and the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May warble sweeter strains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thrills at lovely gloaming hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Scotland's daisied plains;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the merle's mellow note,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The linnet's liquid lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laverocks on the roseate cloud—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I would rather roam beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy scowling winter skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than listlessly attune my lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sun-bright flowers arise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The baron's hall, the peasant's cot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Protect alike the free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyrant dies who breathes thine air;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_HOGG" id="ROBERT_HOGG"></a>ROBERT HOGG.</h2> + + +<p>Robert Hogg was born in the parish of Stobo, about the close of the +century. His father was William Hogg, eldest brother of the Ettrick +Shepherd. William Hogg was also a shepherd, a sensible, well-conducted +man, and possessed of considerable literary talent. Receiving a +classical education at the grammar-school of Peebles, Robert proceeded +to the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying for the +Church. Abandoning his original views, he became corrector of the press, +or reader in the printing-office of Messrs Ballantyne. John Wilson, the +future vocalist, was his yoke-fellow in office. His official duties were +arduous, but he contrived to find leisure for contributing, both in +prose and verse, to the periodicals. His literary talents attracted the +favourable notice of Mr J. G. Lockhart, who, on being appointed, in +1825, to conduct the <i>Quarterly Review</i>, secured his services as +secretary or literary assistant. He therefore proceeded to London, but +as it was found there was not sufficient occasion for his services in +his new appointment, he returned in a few months to the duties of his +former situation. For a short period he acted as amanuensis to Sir +Walter Scott, while the "Life of Napoleon" was in progress. According to +his own account,<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> this must have been no relief from his ordinary +toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When <i>Chambers's +Edinburgh Journal</i> was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former +schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of assistant +editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this +office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give +satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor, +both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular +periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to +give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peeblesshire, where he +died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child.</p> + +<p>Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of +humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of +heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary +periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish +Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, entitled +"The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle +in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are +transcribed from a small periodical, entitled "The Rainbow," published +at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Album, in +the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by +his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's +poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of +Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression, +but they are defective in startling originality and power.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG" id="QUEEN_OF_FAIRIES_SONG"></a>QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the holme so green, over the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the corrie, and down by the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come at the dead of night when all is still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come over mountain steep, come over brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by the braken howe far down the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by the river side; where'er ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES" id="WHEN_AUTUMN_COMES"></a>WHEN AUTUMN COMES.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When autumn comes an' heather bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' corn that waves on lowland dales<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is yellow ripe appearing;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie lassie will ye gang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shear wi' me the hale day lang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' love will mak' us eithly bang<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The weary toil o' shearing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' if the lasses should envy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or say we love, then you an' I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will pass ilk ither slyly by,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As if we werena caring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But aye I wi' my heuk will whang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thistles, if in prickles strang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When we gang to the shearing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' aye we'll haud our rig afore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ply to hae the shearing o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne you will soon forget you bore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Your neighbours' jibes and jeering.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For then, my lassie, we'll be wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we hae proof o' ither had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nae mair need to mind what's said<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When we're thegither shearing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="BONNIE_PEGGIE_O" id="BONNIE_PEGGIE_O"></a>BONNIE PEGGIE, O!</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the siller burn rins clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the rose blooms on the brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My heart's been sick and sair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But it shall be sae nae mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Let the world gae as it will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be it weel or be it ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nae mair my love is cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sorrow's sairest pang is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="A_WISH_BURST" id="A_WISH_BURST"></a>A WISH BURST.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the winds and waves for guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the wants of Nature free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all her ties besides.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond where footstep ever trode<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would I hold my onward way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild as the waves on which I rode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fearless too as they.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were music to mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close round me without fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When winter storms burst from the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trouble the ocean's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd joy me in their roaring loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mid their war find rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By islands fair in the ocean placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With waves all murmuring round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wayward course should still be traced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still no home be found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And men look out to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bark in silence by should glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wonder and awe to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sultry summer suns prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest on the parching land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cool sea breeze would I inhale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the ocean breathing bland.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restless sprite, that likes delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In calm and tempest found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever and aye to bound.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18" id="I_LOVE_THE_MERRY_MOONLIGHT18"></a>I LOVE THE MERRY MOONLIGHT.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So wooingly it dances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight hours, round leaves and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On which the fresh dew glances.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On lake and pool so brightly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pours its beams, and in the stream's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rough current leaps so lightly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It ever shines so cheerily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When night clouds flit, that, but for it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would cast a shade so drearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For when it gleams so mildly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The passions rest that rule the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At other times so wildly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the merry moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For 'neath it I can borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such blissful dreams, that this world seems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a sin or sorrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19" id="OH_WHAT_ARE_THE_CHAINS_OF_LOVE_MADE_OF19"></a>OH, WHAT ARE THE CHAINS OF LOVE MADE OF?<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what are the chains of Love made of,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bonds that can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As iron gyves the body, thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The free-born soul of man?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you twist a rope of beams of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or have you power to seize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round your hand, like threads of silk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wind up the wandering breeze?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you collect the morning dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, with the greatest pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat every drop into a link,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of these links make chains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More fleeting in their nature still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And less substantial are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than sunbeam, breeze, and drop of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smile, sigh, and tear—by far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet of these Love's chains are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bonds that can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As iron gyves the body, thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The free-born soul of man.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_WRIGHT" id="JOHN_WRIGHT"></a>JOHN WRIGHT.</h2> + + +<p>A son of genius and of misfortune, John Wright was born on the 1st +September 1805, at the farm-house of Auchincloigh, in the parish of +Sorn, Ayrshire. From his mother, a woman of much originality and +shrewdness, he inherited a strong inclination towards intellectual +culture. His school education was circumscribed, but he experienced +delight in improving his mind, by solitary musings amidst the amenities +of the vicinity of Galston, a village to which his father had removed. +At the age of seven, he began to assist his father in his occupation of +a coal driver; and in his thirteenth year he was apprenticed to the +loom. His master supplied him with books, which he perused with avidity, +and he took an active part in the weekly meetings of apprentices for +mutual literary improvement; but his chief happiness was still +experienced in lonely rambles amidst the interesting scenes of the +neighbourhood, which, often celebrated by the poets, were especially +calculated to foment his own rapidly developing fancy. He fell in love, +was accepted, and ultimately cast off—incidents which afforded him +opportunities of celebrating the charms, and deploring the inconstancy +of the fair. He composed a poem, of fifteen hundred lines, entitled +"Mahomet, or the Hegira," and performed the extraordinary mental effort +of retaining the whole on his memory, at the period being unable to +write. "The Retrospect," a poem of more matured power, was an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>nounced in +1824. At the recommendation of friends, having proceeded to Edinburgh to +seek the counsel of men of letters, he submitted the MS. of his poem to +Professor Wilson, Dr M'Crie, Mr Glassford Bell, and others, who +severally expressed their approval, and commended a publication. "The +Retrospect," accordingly, appeared with a numerous list of subscribers, +and was well received by the press. The poet now removed to Cambuslang, +near Glasgow, where he continued to prosecute his occupation of weaving. +He entered into the married state by espousing Margaret Chalmers, a +young woman of respectable connexions and considerable literary tastes. +The desire of obtaining funds to afford change of climate to his wife, +who was suffering from impaired health, induced him to propose a second +edition of his poems, to be published by subscription. During the course +of his canvass, he unfortunately contracted those habits of intemperance +which have proved the bane of so many of the sons of genius. Returning +to the loom at Cambuslang, he began to exchange the pleasures of the +family hearth for the boisterous excitement of the tavern. He separated +from his wife and children, and became the victim of dissipation. In +1853, some of his literary friends published the whole of his poetical +works in a duodecimo volume, in the hope of procuring the means of +extricating him from his painful condition. The attempt did not succeed. +He died in an hospital in Glasgow, of fever, contracted by intemperance. +As a poet, he was possessed of a rich fancy, with strong descriptive +powers. His "Retrospect" abounds with beautiful passages; and some of +his shorter poems and songs are destined to survive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD" id="AN_AUTUMNAL_CLOUD"></a>AN AUTUMNAL CLOUD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring to heaven with the eagle so proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Floating o'er the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a spirit, to descry<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Each bright realm,—and, when I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">May it be my shroud!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would skim afar o'er ocean, and drink of bliss my fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the thunders of Ni'gara and cataracts of Nile,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With rising rainbows wreathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In mist and darkness sheathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where nought but spirits breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Around me the while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Above the mighty Alps (o'er the tempest's angry god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careering on the avalanche) should be my bless'd abode.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There, where Nature lowers more wild<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than her most uncultured child,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Revels beauty—as one smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er life's darkest mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our aerial flight should be where eye hath never been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the stormy Polar deep, where the icy Alps are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where Death sits, crested high,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As he would invade the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whilst the living valleys lie<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In their beautiful green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of the peaceful autumnal eve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child of enchantment! behind thee leave<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Thy semblance mantled o'er me;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too full thy tide of glory<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For Fancy to restore thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or Memory give!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAIDEN_FAIR" id="THE_MAIDEN_FAIR"></a>THE MAIDEN FAIR.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The greenwood o'er the mossy stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That roll'd in rapture's wildest mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flutter'd in the fairy beam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through light clouds flash'd the fitful gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er hill and dell,—all Nature lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapp'd in enchantment, like the dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her that charm'd my homeward way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long had I mark'd thee, maiden fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drunk of bliss from thy dark eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still, to feed my fond despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bless'd thy approach, and, passing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd me round to gaze and sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In worship wild, and wish'd thee mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that fair breast to live and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er-power'd with transport so divine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still sacred be that hour to love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dear the season of its birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fair the glade, and green the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its bowers ne'er droop in wintry dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of melody and woodland mirth!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour, the spot, so dear to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wean'd my soul from all on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be for ever bless'd in thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN" id="THE_OLD_BLIGHTED_THORN"></a>THE OLD BLIGHTED THORN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night, by the pathway that crosses the moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I waited on Mary, I linger'd till morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thought her not false—she had ever been true<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To her tryst by the old blighted thorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I had heard of Love lighting to darken the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fickle, fleeting as wind and the dews of the morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such were not my fears, though I sigh'd all night long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wept 'neath the old blighted thorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snows, that were deep, had awaken'd my dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I mark'd as footprints far below by the burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sped to the valley—I found her deep sunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her way to the old blighted thorn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I whisper'd, "My Mary!"—she spoke not: I caught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her hand, press'd her pale cheek—'twas icy and cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sunk on her bosom—its throbbings were o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor knew how I quitted my hold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_WRECKED_MARINER" id="THE_WRECKED_MARINER"></a>THE WRECKED MARINER.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stay, proud bird of the shore!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Carry my last breath with thee to the cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where waits our shatter'd skiff—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One that shall mark nor it nor lover more.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fan with thy plumage bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her heaving heart to rest, as thou dost mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, gently to divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tearful tale, flap out her beacon-light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again swoop out to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lone and lingering wail—then lay thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thou thyself wert dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her breast, that she may weep for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now let her bid false Hope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever hide her beam, nor trust again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The peace-bereaving strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life has, but still far hence, choice flowers to crop.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bid not her repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deem my loss too bitter to be borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet all of passion scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mild, deep'ning memory of mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art away, sweet wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bear the last trickling tear-drop on thy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er her bosom fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love-fraught pearly shower till rest it find!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOSEPH_GRANT" id="JOSEPH_GRANT"></a>JOSEPH GRANT.</h2> + + +<p>Joseph Grant, a short-lived poet and prose writer, was born on the farm +of Affrusk, parish of Banchory-Ternan, Kincardineshire, on the 26th of +May 1805. He was instructed in the ordinary branches at the parish +school, and employed as a youth in desultory labour about his father's +farm. From boyhood he cherished a passionate love for reading, and was +no less ardent in his admiration of the picturesque and beautiful in +nature. So early as his fourteenth year he composed verses of some +merit. In 1828, he published "Juvenile Lays," a collection of poems and +songs; and in 1830, "Kincardineshire Traditions"—a small volume of +ballads—both of which obtained a favourable reception. Desirous of +emanating from the retirement of his native parish, he accepted, in +1831, the situation of assistant to a shop-keeper in Stonehaven, and +soon afterwards proceeded to Dundee, where he was employed in the office +of the <i>Dundee Guardian</i> newspaper, and subsequently as clerk to a +respectable writer.</p> + +<p>Grant furnished a series of tales and sketches for <i>Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal</i>. In 1834, he published a second small volume of "Poems and +Songs;" and subsequently, in the same year, committed to the press a +prose work, entitled "Tales of the Glens," which he did not, however, +survive to publish. After an illness of fifteen weeks, of a pulmonary +complaint, he died on the 14th April 1835, in his thirtieth year. His +remains<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> were interred in the churchyard of Strachan, Kincardineshire, +where a tombstone, inscribed with some elegiac verses, has been erected +to his memory. The "Tales of the Glens" were published shortly after his +decease, under the editorial care of the late Mr James M'Cosh, of +Dundee, editor of the <i>Northern Warder</i> newspaper; and, in 1836, an +edition of his collected works was published at Edinburgh, with a +biographical preface by the poet Nicol.</p> + +<p>Of a fine genius, a gentle and amiable nature, and pure Christian +sentiments, Grant afforded eminent promise, with a prolonged career, of +becoming an ornament to literature. Cut down in the bloom of youth, his +elegy has been recorded by the Brechin poet, Alexander Laing—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A kinder, warmer heart than his<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was ne'er to minstrel given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kinder, holier sympathies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er sought their native heaven."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET" id="THE_BLACKBIRDS_HYMN_IS_SWEET"></a>THE BLACKBIRD'S HYMN IS SWEET.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blackbird's hymn is sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At fall of gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When slow, o'er grove and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Night's shades are coming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is a sound that far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More deeply moves us—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The low sweet voice of her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who truly loves us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair is the evening star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rising in glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the dark hill's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where mists are hoary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the star whose rays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart falls nearest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the love-speaking eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our heart's dearest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lonely, lonely is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The human bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er has nursed the sweets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of young Love's blossom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest breast is like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A starless morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When clouds frown dark and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And storms are forming.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LOVES_ADIEU" id="LOVES_ADIEU"></a>LOVE'S ADIEU.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blinks over the dark green sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the moon 's creepin' down to the hill-tap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Richt dim and drowsilie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the music o' the mornin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is murmurin' alang the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still my dowie heart lingers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch one sweet throb mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We've been as blest, Eliza,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As children o' earth can be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my fondest wish has been knit by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonds of povertie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' through life's misty sojourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That still may be our fa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hearts that are link'd for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e strength to bear it a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cot by the mutterin' burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its wee bit garden an' field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ha'e mair o' the blessin's o' Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than lichts o' the lordliest bield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's many a young brow braided<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' jewels o' far-off isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But woe may be drinkin' the heart-springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we see nought but smiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But adieu, my ain Eliza!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er my wanderin's be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undyin' remembrance will make thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The star o' my destinie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' well I ken, thou loved one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That aye, till I return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou 'lt treasure pure faith in thy bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a gem in a gowden urn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DUGALD_MOORE" id="DUGALD_MOORE"></a>DUGALD MOORE.</h2> + + +<p>A poet of remarkable ingenuity and power, Dugald Moore was born in +Stockwell Street, Glasgow, in 1805. His father, who was a private +soldier in one of the Highland regiments, died early in life, leaving +his mother in circumstances of poverty. From his mother's private +tuition, he received the whole amount of his juvenile education. When a +child he was sent to serve as a tobacco-boy for a small pittance of +wages, and as a youth was received into the copper-printing branch of +the establishment of Messrs James Lumsden and Son, booksellers, Queen +Street. He very early began to write verses, and some of his +compositions having attracted the notice of Mr Lumsden, senior, that +benevolent gentleman afforded him every encouragement in the prosecution +of his literary tastes. Through Mr Lumsden's personal exertions in +procuring subscribers, he was enabled to lay before the public in 1829 a +volume of poems entitled "The African, a Tale, and other Poems." Of this +work a second edition was required in the following year, when he +likewise gave to the world a second volume, with the title "Scenes from +the Flood; the Tenth Plague, and other Poems." "The Bridal Night, and +other Poems," a volume somewhat larger than its predecessors, appeared +from his pen in 1831. The profits of these publications enabled him to +commence on his own account as a bookseller and stationer in the city. +His shop, No. 96 Queen Street, became the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> rendezvous of men of letters, +and many of the influential families gave its occupant the benefit of +their custom.</p> + +<p>In 1833, Moore published "The Bard of the North, a series of Poetical +Tales, illustrative of Highland Scenery and Character;" in 1835, "The +Hour of Retribution, and other Poems;" and in 1839, "The Devoted One, +and other Poems." He died unmarried, after a brief illness, on the 2d +January 1841, in his thirty-sixth year, leaving a competency for the +support of his aged mother. Buried in the Necropolis of the city, a +massive monument, surmounted by a bust, has been raised by his personal +friends in tribute to his memory. Though slightly known to fame, Moore +is entitled to rank among the most gifted of the modern national poets. +Possessed of a vigorous conception, a lofty fancy, intense energy of +feeling, and remarkable powers of versification, his poetry is +everywhere impressed with the most decided indications of genius. He has +chosen the grandest subjects, which he has adorned with the richest +illustration, and an imagery copious and sublime. Had he occupied his +Muse with themes less exalted, he might have enjoyed a wider temporary +popularity; as it is, his poems will find admirers in future times.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="RISE_MY_LOVE" id="RISE_MY_LOVE"></a>RISE, MY LOVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, my love! the moon, unclouded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wanders o'er the dark blue sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep the tyrant's eye has shrouded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hynda comes to set thee free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave those vaults of pain and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the long and dreaming deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bower will greet us ere to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where our eyes may cease to weep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! some little isle of gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling in the waters clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dreary tone of sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never smote the lonely ear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon will greet us, and deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Souls so true, to freedom's plan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death may sunder us, but never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tyrant's threats, nor fetters can.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then our lute's exulting numbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unrestrain'd will wander on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the night has seal'd in slumbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair creation, all her own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we'll wed, while music stealeth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the starry fields above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each bounding spirit feeleth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the luxury of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then we'll scorn oppression's minions,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the despot's bolts and powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Time wreathes his heavy pinions<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With love's brightest passion-flowers.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, then! let us fly together,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now the moon laughs on the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">East or west, I care not whither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When with love and liberty!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="JULIA" id="JULIA"></a>JULIA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Born where the glorious star-lights trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mountain snows their silver face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Nature, vast and rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks as if by her God design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fill the bright eternal mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her fair magnitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hers was a face, to which was given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less portion of the earth than heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if each trait had stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hue from Nature's shapes of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if stars, flowers, and all things bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had join'd to form her soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her heart was young—she loved to breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air which spins the mountain's wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wander o'er the wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To list the music of the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the round stars on it sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she was Nature's child!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nursed where the soul imbibes the print<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of freedom—where nought comes to taint,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or its warm feelings quell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She felt love o'er her spirit driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as the angels felt in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before they sinn'd and fell.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her mind was tutor'd from its birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all that's beautiful on earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights which cannot expire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all their glory, she had caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lustre, till each sense seem'd fraught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With heaven's celestial fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The desert streams familiar grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars had language of their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills contain'd a voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which she could converse, and bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A charm from each insensate thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which bade her soul rejoice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She had the feeling and the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fortune's stormiest blast could tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though delicate and young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom was not formed to bend—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adversity, that firmest friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had all its fibres strung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such was my love—she scorn'd to hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A passion which she deem'd a pride!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft have we sat and view'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous stars walk through the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cynthia lift her sceptre bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To curb old Ocean's mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She'd clasp me as if ne'er to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might feel her beating heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might read her living eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then pause! I've felt the pure tide roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through every vein, which to my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said—Nature could not lie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LUCYS_GRAVE" id="LUCYS_GRAVE"></a>LUCY'S GRAVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My spirit could its vigil hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever at this silent spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! the heart within is cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sleeper heeds me not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairy scenes of love and youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smiles of hope, the tales of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By her are all forgot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spirit with my bliss is fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only weep above the dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I need not view the grassy swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor stone escutcheon'd fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need no monument to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou art lying there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel within, a world like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fearful blank in all my bliss—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An agonized despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which paints the earth in cheerful bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tells me, thou art in the tomb!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew Death's fatal power, alas<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could doom man's hopes to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thought that many a year would pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before he scatter'd mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon he quench'd our morning rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brief were our loves of early days—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brief as those bolts that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beautiful yet transient form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the dark fringes of the storm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I little thought, when first we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few short months would see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sun, before its noontide, set<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In dark eternity!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While love was beaming from thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lover's eye but ill could trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught that obscured its ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So calm its pain thy bosom bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought not death was at its core!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silver moon is shining now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon thy lonely bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as thine own unblemish'd brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold as thy virgin head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seems to breathe of many a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now shrouded with thee in the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of visions that have fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we beneath her holy flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream'd over hopes that never came!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! 'tis the solemn midnight bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It mars the hallow'd scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must we bid again—farewell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must life still intervene?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its charms are vain! my heart is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en with thine own, celestial maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few short days have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age of pain—a few may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A welcome passport, love! to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE" id="THE_FORGOTTEN_BRAVE"></a>THE FORGOTTEN BRAVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the patriot sons of the mountain should die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the mail on each bosom, the sword in each hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the heath of the desert they lie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like their own mountain eagles they rush'd to the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the oaks of their deserts they braved its rude blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blades in the morning look'd dazzling and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But red when the battle was past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They rush'd on, exulting in honour, and met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foes of their country in battle array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun of their glory in darkness hath set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flowers of the forest are faded away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or drop o'er their ashes a tear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_FIRST_SHIP" id="THE_FIRST_SHIP"></a>THE FIRST SHIP.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The sky in beauty arch'd<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The wide and weltering flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the winds in triumph march'd<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Through their pathless solitude—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That like space in darkness slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When his watch old Silence kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere the earliest planet leapt<br /></span> +<span class="i8">From its breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A speck is on the deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Like a spirit in her flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How beautiful she keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Her stately path in light!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sun has on her smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the waves, no longer wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing in glory round that child<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">'Twas at the set of sun<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That she tilted o'er the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Moving like God alone<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O'er the glorious solitude—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The billows crouch around her as her slaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How exulting are her crew—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Each sight to them is new,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they sweep along the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the waves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Fair herald of the fleets<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That yet shall cross the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the earth with ocean meets<br /></span> +<span class="i6">One universal grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What armaments shall follow thee in joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Linking each distant land<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With trade's harmonious band,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or bearing havoc's brand<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To destroy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WEEP_NOT" id="WEEP_NOT"></a>WEEP NOT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though this wild brain is aching,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spill not thy tears with mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to my heart, though breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its firmest half is thine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wert not made for sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then do not weep with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a lovely morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That yet will dawn on thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I am all forgotten—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When in the grave I lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the heart that loved thee 's broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And closed the sparkling eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's sunshine still will cheer thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unsullied, pure, and deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the God who 's ever near thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will never see thee weep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="TO_THE_CLYDE" id="TO_THE_CLYDE"></a>TO THE CLYDE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When cities of old days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But meet the savage gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream of my early ways<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou wilt roll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fleets forsake thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And millions sink to rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bright and glorious west<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the porch and stately arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now so proudly perch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thy billows, on their march<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but ashes in the shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the jocund summer hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his cloud will weave a bower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Over thee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the voice of human power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has ceased in mart and bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the broom and mountain flower<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will thee bless.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mists that love to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the Highlands, far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will come down their deserts gray<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the stranger, brown with toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far Atlantic soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the pilgrim of the Nile,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet may come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To search the solemn heaps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That moulder by thy deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where desolation sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ever dumb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fetters yet should clank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the gay and princely rank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cities on thy bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All sublime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still thou wilt wander on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till eternity has gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And broke the dial stone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of old Time.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON" id="REV_T_G_TORRY_ANDERSON"></a>REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON.</h2> + + +<p>The author of the deservedly popular words and air of "The Araby Maid," +Thomas Gordon Torry Anderson was the youngest son of Patrick Torry, +D.D., titular bishop of St Andrews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane. His mother, +Jane Young, was the daughter of Dr William Young, of Fawsyde, +Kincardineshire. Born at Peterhead on the 9th July 1805, he received his +elementary education at the parish school of that place. He subsequently +prosecuted his studies in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and the +University of Edinburgh. In 1827, he received holy orders, and was +admitted to the incumbency of St John's Episcopal Church, Portobello. He +subsequently became assistant in St George's Episcopal Church, +Edinburgh, and was latterly promoted to the pastorate of St Paul's +Episcopal Church, Dundee.</p> + +<p>Devoted to the important duties of the clerical office, Mr Torry +Anderson experienced congenial recreation in the cultivation of music +and song, and in the occasional composition of both. He composed, in +1833, the words and air of "The Araby Maid," which speedily obtained a +wide popularity. The music and words of the songs, entitled "The +Maiden's Vow," and "I Love the Sea," were composed in 1837 and 1854, +respectively. To a work, entitled "Poetical Illustrations of the +Achievements of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions in Arms," +published in 1852, he extensively contributed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> During the summer of +1855, he fell into bad health, and was obliged to resign his incumbency. +He afterwards resided on his estate of Fawsyde, to which he had +succeeded, in 1850, on the death of his uncle, Dr Young. He died at +Aberdeen on the 20th of June 1856, in his fifty-first year. He was three +times married—first, in 1828, to Mrs Gaskin Anderson of Tushielaw, +whose name he adopted to suit the requirements of an entail; secondly, +he espoused, in 1838, Elizabeth Jane, daughter of Dr Thomas Sutter, +R.N.; and lastly, Mrs Hill, widow of Mr William Hill, R.N., whom he +married in 1854. He has left a widow and six children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_ARABY_MAID" id="THE_ARABY_MAID"></a>THE ARABY MAID.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away on the wings of the wind she flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a thing of life and light—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she bounds beneath the eastern skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the beauty of eastern night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so fast flies the bark through the ocean's foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why wings it so speedy a flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis an Araby maid who hath left her home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fly with her Christian knight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She hath left her sire and her native land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land which from childhood she trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hath sworn, by the pledge of her beautiful hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To worship the Christian's God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then away, away, oh swift be thy flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It were death one moment's delay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For behind there is many a blade glancing bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then away—away—away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They are safe in the land where love is divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land of the free and the brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have knelt at the foot of the holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought can sever them now but the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAIDENS_VOW" id="THE_MAIDENS_VOW"></a>THE MAIDEN'S VOW.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maid is at the altar kneeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark the chant is loudly pealing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now it dies away!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her prayers are said at the holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other thought but thought divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth her sad bosom fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world to her is nothing now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she hath ta'en a solemn vow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To do her father's will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But why hath one so fair, so young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joys of life thus from her flung—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why hath she ta'en the veil?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lover fell where the brave should fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the fight, when the trumpet's call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proclaim'd the victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He fought, he fell, a hero brave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he fill a lowly grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His name can never die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The victory's news to the maiden came—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They loudly breathed her lover's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who for his country fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But vain the loudest trumpet tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fame to her, when he was gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom the praise was given!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her sun of life had set in gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its joys were withered in his tomb—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She vow'd herself to Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_LOVE_THE_SEA" id="I_LOVE_THE_SEA"></a>I LOVE THE SEA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the sea, I love the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My childhood's home, my manhood's rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cradle in my infancy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only bosom I have press'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot breathe upon the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its manners are as bonds to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till on the deck again I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cannot feel that I am free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then tell me not of stormy graves—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though winds be high, there let them roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'd rather perish on the waves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than pine by inches on the shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no willow where I lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mourner let the mermaid be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My only knell the sea-bird's cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My winding-sheet the boundless sea!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GEORGE_ALLAN" id="GEORGE_ALLAN"></a>GEORGE ALLAN.</h2> + + +<p>George Allan was the youngest son of John Allan, farmer at Paradykes, +near Edinburgh, where he was born on the 2d February 1806. Ere he had +completed his fourteenth year, he became an orphan by the death of both +his parents. Intending to prosecute his studies as a lawyer, he served +an apprenticeship in the office of a Writer to the Signet. He became a +member of that honourable body, but almost immediately relinquished +legal pursuits, and proceeded to London, resolved to commence the career +of a man of letters. In the metropolis his literary aspirations were +encouraged by Allan Cunningham and Mr and Mrs S. C. Hall. In 1829, he +accepted an appointment in Jamaica; but, his health suffering from the +climate of the West Indies, he returned in the following year. Shortly +after his arrival in Britain, he was fortunate in obtaining the +editorship of the <i>Dumfries Journal</i>, a respectable Conservative +newspaper. This he conducted with distinguished ability and success for +three years, when certain new arrangements, consequent on a change in +the proprietary, rendered his services unnecessary. A letter of Allan +Cunningham, congratulating him on his appointment as a newspaper editor, +is worthy of quotation, from its shrewd and sagacious counsels:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Study to fill your paper," writes Cunningham, "with +such agreeable and diversified matter as will allure +readers; correct intelligence, sprightly and elegant +paragraphs, remarks on men and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> manners at once free +and generous; and local intelligence pertaining to the +district, such as please men of the Nith in a far land. +These are the staple commodity of a newspaper, and +these you can easily have. A few literary paragraphs +you can easily scatter about; these attract +booksellers, and booksellers will give advertisements +where they find their works are noticed. Above all +things, write cautiously concerning all localities; if +you praise much, a hundred will grumble; if you are +severe, one only may complain, but twenty will shake +the head. You will have friends on one side of the +water desiring one thing, friends on the other side +desiring the reverse, and in seeking to please one you +vex ten. An honest heart, a clear head, and a good +conscience, will enable you to get well through all."</p></div> + +<p>On terminating his connexion with the <i>Dumfries Journal</i>, Allan +proceeded to Edinburgh, where he was immediately employed by the Messrs +Chambers as a literary assistant. In a letter addressed to a friend, +about this period, he thus expresses himself regarding his enterprising +employers:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"They are never idle. Their very recreations are made +conducive to their business, and they go through their +labours with a spirit and cheerfulness, which shew how +consonant these are with their dispositions." "Mr +Robert Chambers," he adds, "is the most mild, +unassuming, kind-hearted man I ever knew, and is +perfectly uneasy if he thinks there is any one +uncomfortable about him. The interest which he has +shewn in my welfare has been beyond everything I ever +experienced, and the friendly yet delicate way in which +he is every other day asking me if I am all comfortable +at home, and bidding me apply to him when I am in want +of anything, equally puzzles me to understand or +express due thanks for."</p></div> + +<p>Besides contributing many interesting articles to <i>Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal</i>, and furnishing numerous communications to the <i>Scotsman</i> +newspaper, Allan wrote a "Life of Sir Walter Scott," in an octavo +volume, which commanded a wide sale, and was much commended by the +public press. In preparing that elegant work, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> "Original National +Melodies of Scotland," the ingenious editor, Mr Peter M'Leod, was +favoured by him with several songs, which he set forth in that +publication, with suitable music. In 1834, some of his relatives +succeeded, by political influence, in obtaining for him a subordinate +situation in the Stamp Office,—one which at once afforded him a certain +subsistence, and did not necessarily preclude the exercise of his +literary talents. But a constitutional weakness of the nervous system +did not permit of his long enjoying the smiles of fortune. He died +suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th August 1835, in his +thirtieth year. In October 1831, he had espoused Mrs Mary Hill, a widow, +eldest daughter of Mr William Pagan, of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan +Cunningham, who, with one of their two sons, still survives. Allan was a +man of singularly gentle and amiable dispositions, a pleasant companion, +and devoted friend. In person he was tall and rather thin, with a +handsome, intelligent countenance. An enthusiast in the concerns of +literature, it is to be feared that he cut short his career by +overstrained application. His verses are animated and vigorous, and are +largely imbued with the national spirit.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21" id="IS_YOUR_WAR-PIPE_ASLEEP21"></a>IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give back our wrongs to the giver?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then raise your wild slogan-cry—on to the foray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.—(<span class="smcap">M'Crimman</span>.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Never! Never! Never!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.—(<span class="smcap">Clansmen</span>.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crimman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the soul of M'Crimman ne'er quail'd when a foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bared his blade in the land he had won not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There our broad pennon flies, and the keen steeds are prancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the startling war-cries, and the war-weapons glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then raise your wild slogan-cry—on to the foray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET" id="I_WILL_THINK_OF_THEE_YET"></a>I WILL THINK OF THEE YET.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land of the stranger, deserted and lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the flowers of this earth are all wither'd to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hopes which once bloom'd in my bosom are gone,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, and the vision of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will oft bring thine image again to my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tokens will be, as the dream passes by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh from the heart and a tear from the eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee yet, though misfortune fall chill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er my path, as yon storm-cloud that lours on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll deem that this life is worth cherishing still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I know that one heart still beats warmly for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! Grief and Despair may encompass me round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till not e'en the shadow of peace can be found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine anguish will cease when my thoughts turn to you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild mountain land which my infancy knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will think of thee; oh! if I e'er can forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that grew warm as all others grew cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill but be when the sun of my reason hath set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or memory fled from her care-haunted hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But while life and its woes to bear on is my doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall my love, like a flower in the wilderness, bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thine still shall be, as so long it hath been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light to my soul when no other is seen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE" id="LASSIE_DEAR_LASSIE"></a>LASSIE, DEAR LASSIE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the brier-bush is sweet whar the burnie is rowin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the best buds of Nature may blaw till they weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere they match the sweet e'e or the cheek o' my dearie!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wander alane, when the gray gloamin' closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lift is spread out like a garden o' roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's nought which the earth or the sky can discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae fair as thysell to thy fond-hearted lover!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snaw-flake is pure frae the clud when it 's shaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melts into dew ere it fa's on the bracken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh sae pure is the heart I hae won to my keepin'!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But warm as the sun-blink that thaw'd it to weepin'!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come to my arms, and the bosom thou 'rt pressing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will tell by its throbs a' there's joy in confessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my lips could repeat it a thousand times over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tale still seem new to thy fond-hearted lover.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22" id="WHEN_I_LOOK_FAR_DOWN_ON_THE_VALLEY_BELOW_ME22"></a>WHEN I LOOK FAR DOWN ON THE VALLEY BELOW ME.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I look far down on the valley below me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lowly the lot of the cottager's cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the hues of the evening seem ling'ring to shew me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How calmly the sun of this life may be pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft have I wish'd that kind Heaven had granted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hours in such spot to have peacefully run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, if pleasures were few, they were all that I wanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Contentment 's a blessing which wealth never won.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have mingled with mankind, and far I have wander'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have shared all the joys youth so madly pursues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been where the bounties of Nature were squander'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till man became thankless and learn'd to refuse!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet <i>there</i> I still found that man's innocence perish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the senses might sway or the passions command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the scenes where alone the soul's treasures were cherish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were the peaceful abodes of my own native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then why should I leave this dear vale of my choice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the friends of my bosom, so faithful and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mix in the great world, whose jarring and noise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must make my soul cheerless though sorrows were few?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! too sweet would this life of probation be render'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our feelings ebb back from Eternity's strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hopes of Elysium in vain would be tender'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could we have all we wish'd in our dear native land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23" id="I_WILL_WAKE_MY_HARP_WHEN_THE_SHADES_OF_EVEN23"></a>I WILL WAKE MY HARP WHEN THE SHADES OF EVEN.<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">I will wake my harp when the shades of even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are closing around the dying day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thoughts that wear the hues of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are weaning my heart from the world away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my strain will tell of a land and home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which my wand'ring steps have left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hearts that throb and the feet that roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are free as the breath of their mountain wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will wake my harp when the star of Vesper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath open'd its eye on the peaceful earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When not a leaf is heard to whisper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a dew-drop falls, or a breeze hath birth.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And you, dear friends of my youthful years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will oft be the theme of my lonely lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a smile for the past will gild the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That tell how my heart is far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will wake my harp when the moon is holding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her star-tent court in the midnight sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the spirits of love, their wings unfolding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring down sweet dreams to each fond one's eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well may I hail that blissful hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my spirit will then, from its thrall set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return to my own lov'd maiden's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gather each sigh that she breathes for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, still when those pensive hours are bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feelings and thoughts which no lips can tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will charm each cloud from my soul by singing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all I have left and lov'd so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! Fate may smile, and Sorrow may cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the dearest hope we on earth can gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to come, after long sad years, in peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be join'd with the friends of our love, again.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_BRYDSON" id="THOMAS_BRYDSON"></a>THOMAS BRYDSON.</h2> + + +<p>Thomas Brydson was born in Glasgow in 1806. On completing the usual +course of study at the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, he became +a licentiate of the Established Church. He assisted in the Middle +Church, Greenock, and in the parish of Kilmalcolm, Renfrewshire, and +was, in 1839, ordained minister of Levern Chapel, near Paisley. In 1842, +he was translated to the full charge of Kilmalcolm, where he continued +to minister with much acceptance till his death, which took place +suddenly on the 28th January 1855.</p> + +<p>A man of fine fancy and correct taste, Mr Brydson was, in early life, +much devoted to poetical composition. In 1829, he published a duodecimo +volume of "Poems;" and a more matured collection of his poetical pieces +in 1832, under the title of "Pictures of the Past." He contributed, in +prose and verse, to the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>; the <i>Republic of +Letters</i>, a Glasgow publication; and some of the London annuals. Though +fond of correspondence with his literary friends, and abundantly +hospitable, he latterly avoided general society, and, in a great +measure, confined himself to his secluded parish of Kilmalcolm. Among +his parishioners he was highly esteemed for the unction and fervour +which distinguished his public ministrations, as well as for the +gentleness of his manners and the generosity of his heart. Of domestic +animals he was devotedly fond. He took delight in pastoral scenery, and +in solitary musings among the hills. His poetry is pervaded by elegance +of sentiment and no inconsiderable vigour of expression.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT" id="ALL_LOVELY_AND_BRIGHT"></a>ALL LOVELY AND BRIGHT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem the days when I wander'd with you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the green isles that swell in this far distant clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the deeps that are trackless and blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, while the torrent is loud on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the howl of the forest is drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think of the lapse of our own native rill—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think of thy voice with a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The light of my taper is fading away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It hovers, and trembles, and dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far-coming morn on her sea-paths is gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sleep will not come to mine eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet why should I ponder, or why should I grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the joys that my childhood has known?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We may meet, when the dew-flowers are fragrant at eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we met in the days that are gone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY" id="CHARLES_DOYNE_SILLERY"></a>CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY.</h2> + + +<p>Though a native of Ireland, Charles Doyne Sillery has some claim to +enrolment among the minstrels of Caledonia. His mother was a +Scotchwoman, and he was himself brought up and educated in Edinburgh. He +was born at Athlone, in Ireland, on the 2d of March 1807. His father, +who bore the same Christian and middle names, was a captain of the Royal +Artillery.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> He distinguished himself in the engagements of Talavera +on the 27th and 28th of July 1809; but from his fatigues died soon +after. His mother, Catherine Fyfe, was the youngest daughter of Mr +Barclay Fyfe, merchant in Leith. She subsequently became the wife of +James Watson, Esq., now of Tontley Hall, Berkshire.</p> + +<p>Of lively and playful dispositions, Sillery did not derive much +advantage from scholastic training. His favourite themes were poetry and +music, and these he assiduously cultivated, much to the prejudice of +other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> important studies. At a subsequent period he devoted himself with +ardour to his improvement in general knowledge. He read extensively, and +became conversant with the ancient and some of the modern languages. +Disappointed in obtaining a commission in the Royal Artillery, on which +he had calculated, he proceeded to India as midshipman in a merchant +vessel. Conceiving a dislike to a seafaring life, after a single voyage, +he entered on the study of medicine in the University of Edinburgh. From +early youth he composed verses. In 1829, while only in his twenty-second +year, he published, by subscription, a poem, in nine cantos, entitled +"Vallery; or, the Citadel of the Lake." This production, which refers to +the times of Chivalry, was well received; and, in the following year, +the author ventured on the publication of a second poem, in two books, +entitled "Eldred of Erin." In the latter composition, which is pervaded +by devotional sentiment, the poet details some of his personal +experiences. In 1834 he published, in a small duodecimo volume, "The +Exiles of Chamouni; a Drama," a production which received only a limited +circulation. About the same period, he became a contributor of verses to +the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>. He ultimately undertook the editorial +superintendence of a religious periodical.</p> + +<p>Delicate in constitution, and of a highly nervous temperament, Sillery +found the study of medicine somewhat uncongenial, and had formed the +intention of qualifying himself for the Church. He calculated on early +ecclesiastical preferment through the favour of Her Majesty Queen +Adelaide, to whom he had been presented, and who had evinced some +interest on his behalf. But his prospects were soon clouded by the slow +but certain progress of an insidious malady. He was seized<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> with +pulmonary consumption, and died at Edinburgh on the 16th May 1836, in +his twenty-ninth year.</p> + +<p>Of sprightly and winning manners, Sillery was much cherished in the +literary circles of the capital. He was of the ordinary height, and of +an extremely slender figure; and his eye, remarkably keen and piercing, +was singularly indicative of power. Poetry, in its every department, he +cherished with the devotion of an enthusiast; and though sufficiently +modest on the subject of his own poetical merits, he took delight in +singing his own songs. Interested in the history of the Middle Ages, he +had designed to publish an "Account of Ancient Chivalry." Latterly, his +views were more concentrated on the subject of religion. Shortly before +his death, he composed a "Discourse on the Sufferings of Christ," the +proof-sheets of which he corrected on his deathbed. As a poet, with more +advanced years, he would have obtained a distinguished place. With +occasional defects, the poem of "Vallery" is possessed of much boldness +of imagery, and force and elegance of expression.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY" id="SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY"></a>SHE DIED IN BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blown from its parent stem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dropp'd from some diadem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along a moonlit lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like the song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of birds amid the brake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like the snow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On flowers dissolved away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died in beauty! like a star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lost on the brow of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She <i>lives</i> in glory! like night's gems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set round the silver moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She lives in glory! like the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid the blue of June!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS" id="THE_SCOTTISH_BLUE_BELLS"></a>THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His pastures of perfume, and rose-cover'd dells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For brave is the chieftain your prowess who quells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout in the chorus for ever and ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On blue-bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awake! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come forth with your chorus, all chanting together—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout in the chorus for ever and ever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_MILLER" id="ROBERT_MILLER"></a>ROBERT MILLER.</h2> + + +<p>Robert Miller, the author of the two following songs, was a native of +Glasgow, and was educated for the legal profession. He contributed +verses to the periodicals, but did not venture on any separate +publication. He died at Glasgow, in September 1834, at the early age of +twenty-four. His "Lay of the Hopeless" was written within a few days of +his decease.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHERE_ARE_THEY" id="WHERE_ARE_THEY"></a>WHERE ARE THEY?</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The loved of early days!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are they?—where?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not on the shining braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountains bare;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not where the regal streams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their foam-bells cast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where childhood's time of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sunshine pass'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some in the mart, and some<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In stately halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the ancestral gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of ancient walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some where the tempest sweeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The desert waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some where the myrtle weeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Roman graves.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And pale young faces gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With solemn eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a remember'd dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dead arise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the red track of war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The restless sweep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sunlit graves afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loved ones sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The braes are dight with flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foam past me in the showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sunny gleams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the light hearts that cast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glory there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rejoicing past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are they?—where?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS" id="LAY_OF_THE_HOPELESS"></a>LAY OF THE HOPELESS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the restless and weary wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the calm of my early grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart with its pulses of fire and life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! would it were still as stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary, weary, of all the strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the selfish world I 've known.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've drunk up bliss from a mantling cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When youth and joy were mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the cold black dregs are floating up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Instead of the laughing wine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And life hath lost its loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And youth hath spent its hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasure palls like bitterness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hope hath not a flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And love! was it not a glorious eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That smiled on my early dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is closed for aye, where the long weeds sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the churchyard by the stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fame—oh! mine were gorgeous hopes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a flashing and young renown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But early, early the flower-leaf drops<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the withering seed-cup down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And beauty! have I not worshipp'd all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her shining creations well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rock—the wood—the waterfall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where light or where love might dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But over all, and on my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mildew hath fallen sadly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no spirit, I have no part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the earth that smiles so gladly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I only sigh for a quiet bright spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the churchyard by the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon the morning sunbeams float,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stars at midnight dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where only Nature's sounds may wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sacred and silent air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only her beautiful things may break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the long grass gathering there.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_HUME" id="ALEXANDER_HUME"></a>ALEXANDER HUME.</h2> + + +<p>Alexander Hume was born at Kelso on the 1st of February 1809. His +father, Walter Hume, occupied a respectable position as a retail trader +in that town. Of the early history of our author little has been +ascertained. His first teacher was Mr Ballantyne of Kelso, a man +somewhat celebrated in his vocation. To his early preceptor's kindness +of heart, Hume frequently referred with tears. While under Mr +Ballantyne's scholastic superintendence, his love of nature first became +apparent. After school hours it was his delight to wander by the banks +of the Tweed, or reclining on its brink, to listen to the music of its +waters. From circumstances into which we need not inquire, his family +was induced to remove from Kelso to London. The position they occupied +we have not learned; but young Hume is remembered as being a quick, +intelligent, and most affectionate boy, eager, industrious, +self-reliant, and with an occasional dash of independence that made him +both feared and loved. He might have been persuaded to adopt almost any +view, but an attempt at coercion only excited a spirit of antagonism. To +use an old and familiar phrase, "he might break, but he would not bend."</p> + +<p>About this period (1822 or 1823), when irritated by those who had +authority over him, he suddenly disappeared from home, and allied +himself to a company of strolling players, with whom he associated for +several months. He had an exquisite natural voice, and sung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> the melting +melodies of Scotland in a manner seldom equalled. With the itinerant +manager he was a favourite, because he was fit for anything—tragedy, +comedy, farce, a hornpipe, and, if need be, a comic song, in which +making faces at the audience was an indispensable accomplishment. His +greatest hit, we are told, was in the absurdly extravagant song, "I am +such a Beautiful Boy;" when he used to say that in singing one verse, he +opened his mouth so wide that he had difficulty in closing it; but it +appears he had neither difficulty nor reluctance in closing his +engagement. Getting tired of his new profession, and disgusted with his +associates, poorly clad and badly fed, he slipped away when his +companions were fast asleep, and returned to London. Here, weary and +footsore, he presented himself to a relative, who received him kindly, +and placed him in a position where by industry he might provide for his +necessities.</p> + +<p>In 1827, he obtained a situation with Forbes & Co. of Mark Lane, the +highly respectable agents for Berwick & Co. of Edinburgh, the celebrated +brewers of Scotch ale. His position being one of considerable +responsibility, he was obliged to find security in the sum of £500, +which he obtained from the relative who had always stood his friend. But +such was his probity and general good conduct, that his employers +cancelled the security, and returned the bond as a mark of their +appreciation of his integrity and worth.</p> + +<p>About this period it was that he first gave utterance to his feelings in +verse. Impulsive and impassioned naturally, his first strong attachment +roused the deepest feelings of the man, and awoke the dormant passion of +the poet. The non-success of his first wooing only made his song the +more vehement for a while, but as no flame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> can burn intensely for ever, +his love became more subdued, and his song gradually assumed that +touching pathos which has ever characterised the best lyrics of +Scotland.</p> + +<p>Some time between the years 1830 and 1833, he became a member of the +Literary and Scientific Institution, Aldersgate Street, where he made +the acquaintance of many kindred spirits, young men of the same standing +as himself, chiefly occupied in the banks, offices, and warehouses of +the city of London. There they had classes established for the study of +history, for the discussion of philosophical and literary subjects, and +for the practice of elocution. The recitations of the several members +awoke the embers that smouldered in his heart from the time he had left +the stage. His early experience had made him acquainted with the manner +in which the voice ought to be modulated to make the utterance +effective; and although he seldom ventured to recite, he was always a +fair critic and a deeply interested auditor. The young ambition of a few +had led them to aspire to authorship, and they established a monthly +magazine. Although the several articles were not of the highest order, +they were, nevertheless, quite equal to the average periodical writings +of the day. In this magazine it is believed that Hume published his +first song. It had been sent in the ordinary way, signed <i>Daft Wattie</i>, +and the editor, not appreciating the northern dialect in which it was +written, had tossed it aside. Shortly afterwards, one of the managers on +turning over the rejected papers was attracted by the verses, read them, +and was charmed. He placed them back in the editor's box, certifying +them as fit for publication by writing across them,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Musical as is Apollo's lute,"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>to which he signed his name, William Raine. This circumstance soon led +to an intimate acquaintance with Mr Raine, who was a man of considerable +original power, excellent education, and of a social and right manly +nature. This new acquaintance coloured the whole of Hume's future life. +They became fast friends, and were inseparable. The imagination of Hume +was restrained by the acute judgment and critical ability of Mr Raine. +When Hume published his first volume of "Songs," it would perhaps be +difficult to determine whether their great success and general +popularity resulted from the poet whose name they bore, or from the +friend who weighed and suggested corrections in almost every song, until +they finally came before the public in a collected form. The volume was +dedicated to Allan Cunningham, and in the preface he says: "I composed +them by no rules excepting those which my own observation and feelings +formed; I knew no other. As I thought and felt, so have I written. Of +all poetical compositions, songs, especially those of the affections, +should be natural, warm gushes of feeling—brief, simple, and condensed. +As soon as they have left the singer's lips, they should be fast around +the hearer's heart."</p> + +<p>In 1837, Hume married Miss Scott, a lady well calculated to attract the +eye and win the heart of a poet. He remained connected with the house of +Berwick & Co. until 1840, when, to recover his health, which had been +failing for some time, he was advised to visit America, where he +travelled for several months. On his return to England, he entered into +an engagement with the Messrs Lane of Cork, then the most eminent +brewers in the south of Ireland. To this work he devoted himself with +great energy, and was duly rewarded for his labour by almost immediate +success. The article<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> he sold became exceedingly popular in the +metropolis; nor was he disappointed in the hope of realising +considerable pecuniary advantages.</p> + +<p>For several years he had written very little. The necessity to make +provision for a rapidly increasing family, and the ambition to take a +high position in the business he had chosen, occupied his every hour, +and became with him a passion as strong as had ever moved him in works +of the imagination.</p> + +<p>In 1847 there were slight indications of a return of the complaint from +which he had suffered in 1840, and he again crossed the Atlantic. +Although he returned considerably improved in health, he was by no means +well. Fortunately he had secured the services of a Mr Macdonald as an +assistant in his business, whose exertions in his interest were +unremitting. Mr Hume's health gradually declined, and ultimately +incapacitated him for the performance of any commercial duty. In May +1851 he died at Northampton, leaving a widow and six children.</p> + +<p>As a song writer, Hume is entitled to an honourable place among those +authors whose writings have been technically called "the Untutored Muse +of Scotland." His style is eminently graceful, and a deep and genuine +pathos pervades his compositions. We confidently predict that some of +his lyrics are destined to obtain a lasting popularity. In 1845, a +complete edition of his "Songs and Poems" was published at London in a +thin octavo volume.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE" id="MY_WEE_WEE_WIFE"></a>MY WEE, WEE WIFE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Boatie Rows."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My wee wife dwells in yonder cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! happy is the husband's lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bairnies on his knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright is day how sweet is life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When love lights up the e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The king o'er me may wear a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have millions bow the knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lacks he love to share his throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How poor a king is he!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let kings ha'e thrones, 'mang warld's strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hearts are thrones to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've felt oppression's galling chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've shed the tear o' care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But feeling aye lost a' its pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my wee wife was near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonnie bairnies three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chains we wear are sweet to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sad could we go free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="O_POVERTY" id="O_POVERTY"></a>O POVERTY!</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posie."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eliza was a bonnie lass, and oh! she lo'ed me weel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic love as canna find a tongue, but only hearts can feel;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But I was poor, her faither doure, he wadna look on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I went unto her mother, and I argued and I fleech'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spak o' love and honesty, and mair and mair beseech'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she was deaf to a' my grief, she wadna look on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I next went to her brother, and I painted a' my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I told him o' our plighted troth, but it was a' in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he was deep in love himsel', nae feeling he'd for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! wealth it makes the fool a sage, the knave an honest man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And canker'd gray locks young again, if he has gear and lan';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To age maun beauty ope her arms, though wi' a tearfu' e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But wait a wee, oh! love is slee, and winna be said nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It breaks a' chains, except its ain, but it will ha'e its way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite o' fate we took the gate, now happy as can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O poverty! O poverty! we're wed in spite o' thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="NANNY" id="NANNY"></a>NANNY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Fee him, Father."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's mony a flower beside the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweets beside the honey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But laws maun change ere life disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A flower or sweet like Nanny.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her e'e is like the summer sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When clouds can no conceal it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're blind if it ye look upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! mad if ere ye feel it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've mony bonnie lassies seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Baith blithesome, kind, an' canny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the day has never been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've seen another Nanny!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's like the mavis in her sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the brakens bloomin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips ope to an angel's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But kiss her, oh! she's woman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MY_BESSIE" id="MY_BESSIE"></a>MY BESSIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Posie."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Bessie, oh! but look upon these bonnie budding flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! do they no remember ye o' mony happy hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on this green and gentle hill we aften met to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye were like the morning sun, an' life a nightless day?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gowans blossom'd bonnilie, I 'd pu' them from the stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' rin in noisy blithesomeness to thee, my Bess, wi' them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To place them in thy lily breast, for ae sweet smile on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw nae mair the gowans then, then saw I only thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MENIE_HAY" id="MENIE_HAY"></a>MENIE HAY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wee bird sits upon a spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye it sings o' Menie Hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burthen o' its cheery lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's not a bonnie flower in May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A light in yonder window 's seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' it seen is Menie Hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha gazes on the dewy green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sits the bird upon the spray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At sic a time, in sic a way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What seek ye there, my daughter dear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dear mother, but the stars sae clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the bonnie Milky Way."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye something see ye daurna say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The window 's shut, the light is gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wi' it gane is Menie Hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wha is seen upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissing sweetly Menie Hay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ane sae young ye ken the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far from blate, O Menie Hay!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gae scour the country, hill and dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search ilka nook, in town or vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my daughter, Menie Hay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL" id="I_VE_WANDERD_ON_THE_SUNNY_HILL"></a>I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye smiled in look, but no in heart—your heart was no for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_YEARS_HAE_COME" id="OH_YEARS_HAE_COME"></a>OH! YEARS HAE COME.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' first I sought the warld alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! behold the present gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My early friends are in the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nourish now the heather bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father's name, my father's lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now a tale that 's heeded not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sang unsung, if no forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A' swept away, like snaw lang gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some sad heart maist grutten dry<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee birds sing no frae the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the kind things pitied me<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But friends can live, though cold they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we forget them, then they die<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' howsoever changed the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still green to my auld heart an' e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Are the hills o' Caledonia.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME" id="MY_MOUNTAIN_HAME"></a>MY MOUNTAIN HAME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Gala Water."</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mountain hame, my mountain hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My kind, my independent mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thought and feeling rule my frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can I forget the mountain heather?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love to hear your daughters dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The simple tale in song revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er your music greets my ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I to other lands may gae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should Fortune's smile attend me thither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And look again on the mountain heather—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I maun die, oh! I would lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where life and me first met together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my cauld clay, through its decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might bloom again in the mountain heather—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Scotland dear!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_SMIBERT" id="THOMAS_SMIBERT"></a>THOMAS SMIBERT.</h2> + + +<p>A poet and indefatigable prose-writer, Thomas Smibert was born in +Peebles on the 8th February 1810. Of his native town his father held for +a period the office of chief magistrate. With a view of qualifying +himself for the medical profession, he became apprentice to an +apothecary, and afterwards attended the literary and medical classes in +the University of Edinburgh. Obtaining licence as a surgeon, he +commenced practice in the village of Inverleithen, situated within six +miles of his native town. He was induced to adopt this sphere of +professional labour from an affection which he had formed for a young +lady in the vicinity, who, however, did not recompense his devotedness, +but accepted the hand of a more prosperous rival. Disappointed in love, +and with a practice scarcely yielding emolument sufficient to pay the +annual rent of his apothecary's store, he left Inverleithen after the +lapse of a year, and returned to Peebles. He now began to turn his +attention to literature, and was fortunate in procuring congenial +employment from the Messrs Chambers, as a contributor to their popular +<i>Journal</i>. Of this periodical he soon attained the position of +sub-editor; and in evidence of the indefatigable nature of his services +in this literary connexion, it is worthy of record that, during the +period intervening between 1837 and 1842, he contributed to the +<i>Journal</i> no fewer than five hundred essays, one hundred tales, and +about fifty biographical sketches. Within the same period he edited a +new edition of Paley's "Natural Theology," with scientific notes, and +wrote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, entitled +"Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the +sub-editorship of the <i>Scotsman</i> newspaper. The bequest of a relative +afterwards enabled him to relinquish stated literary occupation, but he +continued to exhibit to the world pleasing evidences of his learning and +industry. He became a frequent contributor to <i>Hogg's Instructor</i>, an +Edinburgh weekly periodical; produced a work on "Greek History;" and +collated a "Rhyming Dictionary." A large, magnificently illustrated +volume, the "Clans of the Highlands of Scotland," was his most ambitious +and successful effort as a prose-writer. His poetical compositions, +which were scattered among a number of the periodicals, he was induced +to collect and publish in a volume, with the title, "Io Anche! Poems +chiefly Lyrical;" Edinburgh, 1851, 12mo. An historical play from his +pen, entitled "Condé's Wife," founded on the love of Henri Quatre for +Marguerite de Montmorency, whom the young Prince of Condé had wedded, +was produced in 1842 by Mr Murray in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, and +during a run of nine nights was received with applause.</p> + +<p>Smibert died at Edinburgh on the 16th January 1854, in his forty-fourth +year. With pleasing manners, he was possessed of kindly dispositions, +and was much cherished for his intelligent and interesting conversation. +In person he was strong built, and his complexion was fair and ruddy. He +was not undesirous of reputation both as a poet and prose-writer, and +has recorded his regret that he had devoted so much time to evanescent +periodical literature. His poetry is replete with patriotic sentiment, +and his strain is forcible and occasionally brilliant. His songs +indicate a fine fancy and deep pathos.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT" id="THE_SCOTTISH_WIDOWS_LAMENT"></a>THE SCOTTISH WIDOW'S LAMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afore the Lammas tide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had dun'd the birken-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a' our water side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae wife was bless'd like me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kind gudeman, and twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet bairns were 'round me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they're a' ta'en awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sair trouble cam' our gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made me, when it cam',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bird without a mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ewe without a lamb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hay was yet to maw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our corn was to shear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they a' dwined awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I downa look a-field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For aye I trow I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form that was a bield<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my wee bairns and me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wind, and weet, and snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They never mair can fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' they a' got the ca'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft on the hill at e'ens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see him 'mang the ferns—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lover o' my teens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faither o' my bairns;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For there his plaid I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As gloamin' aye drew near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my a's now awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bonnie rigs theirsel',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reca' my waes to mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our puir dumb beasties tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' a' that I hae tyned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wha our wheat will saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wha our sheep will shear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin' my a' gaed awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hearth is growing cauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will be caulder still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sair, sair in the fauld<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will be the winter's chill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For peats were yet to ca',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our sheep they were to smear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my a' passed awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ettle whiles to spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wee, wee patterin' feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come rinnin' out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then I just maun greet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ken it 's fancy a',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And faster rows the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my a' dwined awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the fa' o' the year.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be kind, O Heaven abune!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ane sae wae and lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tak' her hamewards sune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pity o' her maen.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lang ere the March winds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May she, far far frae here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet them a' that's awa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' the fa' o' the year!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25" id="THE_HERO_OF_ST_JOHN_DACRE25"></a>THE HERO OF ST JOHN D'ACRE.<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">Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The banner of England is spread to the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loud is the cheering that hails the uprearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of glory's loved emblem, the pride of the seas.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No tempest shall daunt her,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No victor-foe taunt her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What manhood can do in her cause shall be done—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Britannia's best seaman,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The boast of her freemen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will conquer or die by his colours and gun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Acre's proud turrets an ensign is flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which stout hearts are banded till death to uphold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bold is their crying, and fierce their defying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When trench'd in their ramparts, unconquer'd of old.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But lo! in the offing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To punish their scoffing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No danger can stay him,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">No foeman dismay him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He conquers or dies by his colours and gun.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But Napier now tenders<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To Acre's defenders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aid of a friend when the combat is won;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For mercy's sweet blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Blooms fresh in his bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All hail to the hero!" his country is calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And "hail to his comrades!" the faithful and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And long may the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In calm and commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And when foes would wound us<br /></span> +<span class="i6">May Napier be round us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To conquer or die by their colours and gun!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES" id="OH_BONNIE_ARE_THE_HOWES"></a>OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bonnie are the howes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sunny are the knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feed the kye and yowes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where my life's morn dawn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brightly glance the rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spring amang the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ca' the merry mills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my ain dear land.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now I canna see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lammies on the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hear the heather bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this far, far strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see nae father's ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae burnie's waterfa',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wander far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart was free and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ingle burning bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ruin cam' by night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through a foe's fell hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaed to come nae mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I sorrow sair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But blithely will I bide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er may yet betide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ane is by my side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this far, far strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Jean will soon be here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This waefu' heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dry the fa'ing tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ain dear land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA" id="OH_SAY_NA_YOU_MAUN_GANG_AWA"></a>OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! say na you maun gang awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! say na you maun leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreaded hour that parts us twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of peace and hope will reave me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you to distant shores are gane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How could I bear to tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ilka tree and ilka stane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would mind me o' my Mary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I couldna wander near yon woods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That saw us oft caressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on our heads let fa' their buds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In earnest o' their blessing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its half-o'erspreading heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how we lo'ed the least the best<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That made us creep thegither.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I couldna bide, when you are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain, my winsome dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I couldna stay to pine my lane—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I live but when I 'm near ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then say na you maun gang awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! say na you maun leave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! the hour that parts us twa<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of life itself will reave me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_BETHUNE" id="JOHN_BETHUNE"></a>JOHN BETHUNE.</h2> + + +<p>The younger of two remarkable brothers, whose names are justly entitled +to remembrance, John Bethune, was born at the Mount, in the parish of +Monimail, Fifeshire, during the summer of 1810. The poverty of his +parents did not permit his attendance at a public school; he was taught +reading by his mother, and writing and arithmetic by his brother +Alexander,<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> who was considerably his senior. After some years' +employment as a cow-herd, he was necessitated, in his twelfth year, to +break stones on the turnpike-road. At the recommendation of a comrade, +he apprenticed himself, early in 1824, to a weaver in a neigh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>bouring +village. In his new profession he rapidly acquired dexterity, so that, +at the end of one year, he could earn the respectable weekly wages of +fifteen shillings. Desirous of assisting his aged parents, he now +purchased a loom and settled as a weaver on his own account, with his +elder brother as his apprentice. A period of mercantile embarrassments +which followed, severely affecting the manufacturing classes, pressed +heavily on the subject of this notice; his earnings became reduced to +six shillings weekly, and he was obliged to exchange the labours of the +shuttle for those of the implements of husbandry. During the period of +his apprenticeship, his thoughts had been turned to poetical +composition, but it was subsequent to the commercial disasters of 1825 +that he began earnestly to direct his attention towards the concerns of +literature. Successive periods of bad health unfitting him for continued +labour in the fields, were improved by extensive reading and +composition. Before he had completed his nineteenth year he had produced +upwards of twenty poetical compositions, each of considerable length, +and the whole replete with power, both of sentiment and expression. Till +considerably afterwards, however, his literary productions were only +known to his brother Alexander, or at furthest to his parents. "Up to +the latter part of 1835," writes his brother in a biographical sketch, +"the whole of his writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had +been a crime punishable by law. There being but one apartment in the +house, it was his custom to write by the fire, with an old copy-book, +upon which his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through life, +was his only writing-desk. On the table, which was within reach, an old +newspaper was kept constantly lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any +one were heard approach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>ing the door, copy-book, pens, and ink-stand +were thrust under this covering, and before the visitor came in, he had, +in general, a book in his hand, and appeared to have been reading."</p> + +<p>For a number of years Bethune had wrought as a day-labourer in the +grounds of Inchrye, in the vicinity of his birthplace. On the death of +the overseer on that property he was appointed his successor, entering +on the duties at the term of Martinmas 1835, his brother accompanying +him as his assistant. The appointment yielded £26 yearly, with the right +of a cow's pasturage—emoluments which considerably exceeded the average +of his previous earnings. To the duties of his new situation he applied +himself with his wonted industry, still continuing to dedicate only his +evenings and the intervals of toil to literary occupation. But his +comparative prosperity was of short duration. During the summer +following his appointment at Inchrye the estate changed owners, and the +new proprietor dispensed with his services at the next term. In another +year the landlord required the little cottage at Lochend, occupied by +his parents. Undaunted by these reverses, John Bethune and his brother +summoned stout courage; they erected a cottage at Mount Pleasant, near +Newburgh, the walls being mostly reared by their own hands. The future +career of Bethune was chiefly occupied in literary composition. He +became a contributor to the <i>Scottish Christian Herald</i>, <i>Wilson's Tales +of the Borders</i>, and other serial publications. In 1838 appeared "Tales +and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," the mutual production of the +poet and his brother—a work which, published in Edinburgh, was well +received. A work on "Practical Economy," on which the brothers had +bestowed much pains, and which had received the favourable opinion of +persons of literary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> eminence, was published in May 1839, but failed to +attract general interest. This unhappy result deeply affected the health +of the poet, whose constitution had already been much shattered by +repeated attacks of illness. He was seized with a complaint which proved +the harbinger of pulmonary consumption. He died at Mount Pleasant on the +1st September 1839, in his thirtieth year.</p> + +<p>With a more lengthened career, John Bethune would have attained a high +reputation, both as an interesting poet and an elegant prose-writer. His +genius was versatile and brilliant; of human nature, in all its +important aspects, he possessed an intuitive perception, and he was +practically familiar with the character and habits of the sons of +industry. His tales are touching and simple; his verses lofty and +contemplative. In sentiment eminently devotional, his life was a model +of genuine piety. His Poems, prefaced by an interesting Memoir, were +published by his surviving brother in 1840; and from the profits of a +second edition, published in the following year, a monument has been +erected over his grave in the churchyard of Abdie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WITHERD_FLOWERS" id="WITHERD_FLOWERS"></a>WITHER'D FLOWERS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your day of glory's past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But your latest smile was loveliest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For we knew it was your last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the sweet aroma<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of your golden cups shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scent the morning's stilly breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye were the sweetest offerings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Friendship could bestow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A token of devoted love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pleasure or in woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye graced the head of infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By soft affection twined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a fairy coronal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its sunny brows to bind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! a dreary blast hath blown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athwart you in your bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, pale and sickly, now your leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hues of death assume.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We mourn your vanish'd loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye sweet departed flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! the fate which blighted you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An emblem is of ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We wither and depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave behind, to mourn our loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full many an aching heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when the winter of the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is past, we hope to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blossom in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="A_SPRING_SONG" id="A_SPRING_SONG"></a>A SPRING SONG.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a concert in the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a concert on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's melody in every breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And music in the murmuring rill.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shower is past, the winds are still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields are green, the flow'rets spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds, and bees, and beetles fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air with harmony, and fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rosied moisture of the leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In frolic flight from wing to wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fretting the spider as he weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His airy web from bough to bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain the little artist grieves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their joy in his destruction now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! that, in a scene so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The meanest being e'er should feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gloomy shadow of despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But in a world where woe is real,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each rank in life, and every day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must pain and suffering reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wretched mourners in decay—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When nations smile o'er battles won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When banners wave and streamers play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lonely mother mourns her son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left lifeless on the bloody clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the poor widow, all undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees the wild revel with dismay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even in the happiest scenes of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When swell'd the bridal-song on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every voice was tuned to mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy was shot from eye to eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've heard a sadly-stifled sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, 'mid the garlands rich and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've seen a cheek, which once could vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In beauty with the fairest there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grown deadly pale, although a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was worn above to cloak despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor maid! it was a hapless wile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of long-conceal'd and hopeless love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hide a heart, which broke the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pangs no lighter heart could prove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The joyous spring and summer gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With perfumed gifts together meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the rosy lips of May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe music soft and odours sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still my eyes delay my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze upon the earth and heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear the happy birds repeat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their anthems to the coming even;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yet is my pleasure incomplete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grieve to think how few are given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To feel the pleasures I possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must pine in utter loneliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be to desperation driven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could we find some happy land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some Eden of the deep blue sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By gentle breezes only fann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon whose soil, from sorrow free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew only pure felicity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not brave the stormiest main<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within that blissful isle to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exempt from sight or sense of pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a land we cannot see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose joys no pen can e'er portray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet, so narrow is the road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From it our spirits ever stray—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shed light upon that path, O God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lead us in the appointed way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There only joy shall be complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More high than mortal thoughts can reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the just and good shall meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure in affection, thought, and speech;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No jealousy shall make a breach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor pain their pleasure e'er alloy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sunny streams of gladness stretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the very air is joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There shall the faithful, who relied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On faithless love till life would cloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those who sorrow'd till they died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earthly pain and earthly woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See Pleasure, like a whelming tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From an unbounded ocean flow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALLAN_STEWART" id="ALLAN_STEWART"></a>ALLAN STEWART.</h2> + + +<p>Allan Stewart, a short-lived poet of no inconsiderable merit, was born +in the village of Houston, Renfrewshire, on the 30th January 1812. His +father prosecuted the humble vocation of a sawyer. Deprived of his +mother in early life, the loss was in some degree repaired by the kind +attentions of his maternal aunt, Martha Muir, whose letters on religious +subjects have been published. Receiving an ordinary education at school, +he followed the trade of a weaver in Paisley. His leisure hours were +employed in reading, and in the composition of verses. He died of typhus +fever, at Paisley, on the 12th November 1837, in his twenty-sixth year. +His "Poetical Remains" were published in 1838, in a thin duodecimo +volume, with a well-written biographical sketch from the pen of his +friend, Mr Charles Fleming.</p> + +<p>Stewart was a person of modest demeanour, and of a thoughtful and +somewhat melancholy cast. His verses are generally of a superior order; +his songs abound in sweetness of expression and elegance of sentiment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_SEA-BOY" id="THE_SEA-BOY"></a>THE SEA-BOY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Soldier's Tear."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The storm grew faint as daylight tinged<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lofty billows' crest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love-lit hopes, with fears yet fringed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Danced in the sea-boy's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perch'd aloft, he cheer'ly sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the billows' less'ning roar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll see thee yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And O what joy beam'd in his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, o'er the dusky foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw, beneath the northern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills that mark'd his home!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart with double ardour strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sung this ditty o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll see thee yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now towers and trees rise on his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a dear-loved spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, smiling o'er the blue waves bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He saw young Ellen's cot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scenes on which his memory hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A cheerful aspect wore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then, with joyous feeling, sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I 'll see her yet once more!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land they near'd, and on the beach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stood many a female form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! his eye it could not reach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hope in many a storm.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He through the spray impatient sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gain'd the wish'd-for shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Ellen, so fair, so sweet, and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was gone for evermore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MENIE_LORN" id="MENIE_LORN"></a>MENIE LORN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While beaus and belles parade the streets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On summer gloamings gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barter'd smiles and borrow'd sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all such vain display;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My walks are where the bean-field's breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On evening's breeze is borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her, the angel of my heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lovely Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love's ambuscades her auburn hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's throne her azure eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where peerless charms and virtues rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In blended beauty lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose is fair at break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet the blushing thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter, fairer far than they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The smile of Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O tell me not of olive groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where gold and gems abound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deep blue eyes and maiden loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With every virtue crown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no other ray of joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life's desert to adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that sweet bliss, which ne'er can cloy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love of Menie Lorn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER" id="THE_YOUNG_SOLDIER"></a>THE YOUNG SOLDIER.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Banks of the Devon."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O say not o' war the young soldier is weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye wha in battle ha'e witness'd his flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember his daring when danger was near ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgive ye the sigh that he heaves for his hame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past perils he heeds not, nor dangers yet coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae dark-brooding terror his young heart is free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it pants for the place whar in youth he was roaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He turns to the north wi' the tear in his e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis remembrance that saftens what war never daunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the hame o' his birth that gives birth to the tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm fondled hopes his first love had implanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He langs now to reap in his Jeanie sae dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aften he thinks on the bonnie clear burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar oft in love's fondness they daff'd their young day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae tear then was shedded, for short was the journey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tween Jeanie's broom bower and the blaeberry brae.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' weel does he mind o' that morning, when dressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In green Highland garb, to cross the wide sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His auld mither grat when she gi'ed him her blessing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas a' that the puir body then had to gi'e.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black downy plume on his bonnie cheek babbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he stood at the door an' shook hands wi' them a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sair was his heart, an' sair Jeanie sabbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan down the burn-side she convoy'd him awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now high-headed Alps an' dark seas divide them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilds ne'er imagined in love's early dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their Alps then the knowes, whare the lambs lay beside them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their seas then the hazel an' saugh-shaded stream.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' wha couldna sigh when memory 's revealing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scenes that surrounded our life's early hame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hero whose heart is cauld to that feeling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His nature is harsh, and not worthy the name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_LAND_I_LOVE" id="THE_LAND_I_LOVE"></a>THE LAND I LOVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the land of the plaid and bonnet blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the gallant heart, the firm and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The land of the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Isle of the freeborn, honour'd and blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isle of beauty, in innocence dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest star on ocean's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is the land of the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair are those isles of Indian bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flowers perpetual breathe perfume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dearer far are the braes o' broom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where blooms the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No luscious fig-tree blossoms there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No slaves the scented shrubb'ry rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sons are free as the mountain air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That shakes the hardy thistle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lovely 's the tint o' an eastern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovely the lands that 'neath it lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I wish to live, and I wish to die<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the land of the hardy thistle!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_L_MALONE" id="ROBERT_L_MALONE"></a>ROBERT L. MALONE.</h2> + + +<p>Robert L. Malone was a native of Anstruther, in Fife, where he was born +in 1812. His father was a captain in the navy, and afterwards was +employed in the Coast Guard. He ultimately settled at Rothesay, in Bute. +Receiving a common school education, Robert entered the navy in his +fourteenth year. He served on board the gun-brig <i>Marshall</i>, which +attended the Fisheries department in the west; next in the Mediterranean +ocean; and latterly in South America. Compelled, from impaired health, +to renounce the seafaring life, after a service of ten years, he +returned to his family at Rothesay, but afterwards settled in the town +of Greenock. In 1845, he became a clerk in the Long-room of the Customs +at Greenock, an appointment which he retained till nigh the period of +his death. A lover of poetry from his youth, he solaced the hours of +sickness by the composition of verses. He published, in 1845, a +duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled, "The Sailor's Dream, and other +Poems," a work which was well received. His death took place at Greenock +on the 6th of July 1850, in his thirty-eighth year. Of modest and +retiring dispositions, Malone was unambitious of distinction as a poet. +His style is bold and animated, and some of his pieces evince +considerable power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND" id="THE_THISTLE_OF_SCOTLAND"></a>THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Humours o' Glen."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And green be thy emblem, thou gem of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greenest, the sweetest, the fairest of flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far lovelier flowers glow, the woodlands adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And breathing perfume over moorland and lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there breathes not a bud on the freshness of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What scenes o' langsyne even thy name can awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou badge of the fearless, the fair, and the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tenderest chords of the spirit are shaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still'd be my harp, and forgotten its numbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cold as the grave my affections must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere thy name fail to waken my soul from her slumbers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the fields of their fame, while proud laurels she gathers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Caledonia plants, wi' the tear in her e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soft downy seeds on the graves of our fathers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thistle—the thistle of Scotland, for me!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY" id="HAME_IS_AYE_HAMELY"></a>HAME IS AYE HAMELY.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Love's Young Dream."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's gowd in gowpens got, they say, on India's sunny strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wha would bear to linger here in this bleak, barren land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'll hie me ower the heaving wave, and win myself a name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a palace or a grave forget my Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His good sword won him wealth and power and long and loud acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But could not banish from his thoughts his dear-loved mountain hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! The peasant's heart within the peer beat true to nature still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on his vision oft would rise the cottage on the hill;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! in the Brahmin, mild and gray, his father's face he saw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought upon his mother's tears the day he gaed awa';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her he loved—his Hieland girl—there 's magic in the name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where his father's cottage stood a stately palace stands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his grandchild on his knee—the old man's heart on flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts of hame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! hame is aye hamely, dear, though poor at times it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PETER_STILL" id="PETER_STILL"></a>PETER STILL.</h2> + + +<p>Peter Still was born in the parish of Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, on the +1st day of January 1814. At the time of his birth his father rented a +farm, but, being unfortunate, he was compelled to seek the support of +his family by manual labour. With a limited education at the +parish-school of Longside, whither his parents had removed, the subject +of this memoir was sent, in his eleventh year, to tend cattle. When +somewhat older, he found employment as a farm-servant; but having +married in his twentieth year, he afterwards followed the more +precarious occupation of a day-labourer. Of a delicate constitution, he +suffered much from impaired health, being frequently, for months +together, confined to the sick-chamber. During the periods of +convalescence from illness, he composed verses, which he gave to the +world in three separate publications. His last work—"The Cottar's +Sunday, and other Poems"—appeared in 1845, in a handsome duodecimo +volume. He closed a life of much privation and suffering at Peterhead, +on the 21st March 1848.</p> + +<p>Of sound religious principles and devoted Christian feeling, Still +meekly submitted to the bitterness of his lot in life. He was fortunate +in arresting the attention of some, who occasionally administered to his +wants, and contributed, by their patronage, to the increase of his +reputation. His verses are largely pervaded with poetical fervour and +religious sentiment, while his songs are generally true to nature. In +person he was tall and slender, of a long thin countenance, large dark +blue eyes, and curling black hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="JEANIES_LAMENT" id="JEANIES_LAMENT"></a>JEANIE'S LAMENT.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lord Gregory."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never thocht to thole the waes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's been my lot to dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never thocht to sigh sae sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whan first I sigh'd for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thocht your heart was like mine ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As true as true could be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I couldna think there was a stain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ane sae dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan first amang the dewy flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aside yon siller stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lowin' heart was press'd to yours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae purer did they seem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae purer seem'd the draps o' dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers on whilk they hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than seem'd the heart I felt in you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to that heart I clung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I was young an' thochtless then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' easy to beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mither's warnin's had nae weight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Bout man's deceitfu' smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But noo, alas! whan she is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've shed the sad, saut tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung my heavy, heavy head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aboon my father's bier!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They saw their earthly hope betray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They saw their Jeanie fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They couldna thole the heavy stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' baith are lowly laid!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Jamie! but thy name again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ne'er be breathed by me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, speechless through yon gow'ny glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll wander till I die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME" id="YE_NEEDNA_BE_COURTIN_AT_ME"></a>YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"John Todd."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye needna' be courtin' at me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're threescore an' three, an' ye 're blin' o' an e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye needna' be courtin' at me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 're auld an' ye 're cauld, an' ye 're blin' an' ye 're bald,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' ye 're nae for a lassie like me, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye 're nae for a lassie like me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A heart that lo'es nane but thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I 'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll busk you as braw as a queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what 's mair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Only twa score an' fifteen."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To me he shall ever be dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a something in love that your gowd canna move—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare, auld man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME" id="THE_BUCKET_FOR_ME"></a>THE BUCKET FOR ME.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awa' wi' your bickers o' barley bree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though good ye may think it, I 'll never mair drink it—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's health in the bucket, there 's wealth in the bucket,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's mair i' the bucket than mony can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' aye whan I leuk in 't, I find there 's a beuk in 't<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That teaches the essence o' wisdom to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whan whisky I swiggit, my wifie aye beggit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' aft did she sit wi' the tear in her e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But noo—wad you think it?—whan water I drink it<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right blithesome she smiles on the bucket an' me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The bucket 's a treasure nae mortal can measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's happit my wee bits o' bairnies an' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' noo roun' my ingle, whare sorrows did mingle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 've pleasure, an' plenty, an' glances o' glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bucket 's the bicker that keeps a man sicker,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bucket 's a shield an' a buckler to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pool or in gutter nae langer I 'll splutter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But walk like a freeman wha feels he is free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye drunkards, be wise noo, an' alter your choice noo—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come cling to the bucket, an' prosper like me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll find it is better to swig "caller water,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than groan in a gutter without a bawbee!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_NICOLL" id="ROBERT_NICOLL"></a>ROBERT NICOLL.</h2> + + +<p>One of the most gifted and hopeful of modern Scottish song writers, +Robert Nicoll, was born at Little Tulliebeltane, in the parish of +Auchtergaven, Perthshire, on the 7th January 1814. Of a family of nine +children, he was the second son. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, rented a farm at the period of his birth and for five years +afterwards, when, involved in an affair of cautionary, he was reduced to +the condition of an agricultural labourer. Young Nicoll received the +rudiments of his education from his mother, a woman of superior +shrewdness and information; subsequently to his seventh year he tended +cattle in the summer months, to procure the means of attending the +parish school during the other portion of the year. From his childhood +fond of reading, books were his constant companions—in the field, on +the highway, and during the intervals of leisure in his father's +cottage. In his thirteenth year, he wrote verses and became the +correspondent of a newspaper. Apprenticed to a grocer and wine-merchant +in Perth, and occupied in business from seven o'clock morning till nine +o'clock evening, he prosecuted mental culture by abridging the usual +hours of rest. At the age of nineteen he communicated a tale to +<i>Johnstone's Magazine</i>, an Edinburgh periodical, which was inserted, and +attracted towards him the notice of Mr Johnstone, the ingenious +proprietor. By this gentleman he was introduced, during a visit he made +to the capital,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> to some men of letters, who subsequently evinced a warm +interest in his career.</p> + +<p>In 1834, Nicoll opened a small circulating library in Dundee, occupying +his spare time in reading and composition, and likewise taking part in +public meetings convened for the support of Radical or extreme liberal +opinions. To the liberal journals of the town he became a frequent +contributor both in prose and verse, and in 1835 appeared as the author +of a volume of "Poems and Lyrics." This publication was highly esteemed +by his friends, and most favourably received by the press. Abandoning +business in Dundee, which had never been prosperous, he meditated +proceeding as a literary adventurer to London, but was induced by Mr +Tait, his friendly publisher, and some other well-wishers, to remain in +Edinburgh till a suitable opening should occur. In the summer of 1836 he +was appointed editor of the <i>Leeds Times</i> newspaper, with a salary of +£100. The politics of this journal were Radical, and to the exposition +and advocacy of these opinions he devoted himself with equal ardour and +success. But the unremitting labour of conducting a public journal soon +began materially to undermine the energies of a constitution which, +never robust, had been already impaired by a course of untiring literary +occupation. The excitement of a political contest at Leeds, during a +general parliamentary election, completed the physical prostration of +the poet; he removed from Leeds to Knaresborough, and from thence to +Laverock Bank, near Edinburgh, the residence of his friend Mr Johnstone. +His case was hopeless; after lingering a short period in a state of +entire prostration, he departed this life in December 1837, in his +twenty-fourth year. His remains, attended by a numerous assemblage, were +consigned to the churchyard of North Leith.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>Possessed of strong poetical genius, Robert Nicoll has attained a +conspicuous and honoured niche in the temple of the national minstrelsy. +Several of his songs, especially "Bonnie Bessie Lee" and "Ordé Braes," +have obtained an equal popularity with the best songs of Burns. Since +the period of his death, four different editions of his "Poems" have +been called for. The work has latterly been published by the Messrs +Blackie of Glasgow in a handsome form, prefaced by an interesting +memoir. Nicoll's strain is eminently smooth and simple; and, though many +of his lyrics published after his decease had not the benefit of his +revision, he never falls into mediocrity. Of extensive sympathies, he +portrays the loves, hopes, and fears of the human heart; while he +depicts nature only in her loveliness. His sentiments breathe a devoted +and simple piety, the index of an unblemished life. In person Nicoll was +rather above the middle height, with a slight stoop. His countenance, +which was of a sanguine complexion, was thoughtful and pleasing; his +eyes were of a deep blue, and his hair dark brown. In society he was +modest and unobtrusive, but was firm and uncompromising in the +maintenance of his opinions. His political views were founded on the +belief that the industrial classes had suffered oppression from the +aristocracy. The solace of his hours of leisure were the songs and music +of his country. He married shortly prior to his decease, but was not +long survived by his widow. A monument to his memory, towards which +nearly £100 has lately been subscribed, is about to be erected on the +Ordé Braes, in his native parish.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="ORDE_BRAES" id="ORDE_BRAES"></a>ORDÉ BRAES.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae ither spot sae fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae ither faces look sae kind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the smilin' faces there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I ha'e sat by mony streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha'e travell'd mony ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fairest spot on the earth to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is on bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An ell-lang wee thing then I ran<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the ither neeber bairns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pu' the hazel's shining nuts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' to wander 'mang the ferns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' to feast on the bramble-berries brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' gather the glossy slaes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the burnie's side, an' aye sinsyne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ha'e loved sweet Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The memories o' my father's hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' its kindly dwellers a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the friends I loved wi' a young heart's love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere care that heart could thraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are twined wi' the stanes o' the silver burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' its fairy crooks an' bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That onward sang 'neath the gowden broom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aince in a day there were happy hames<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the bonnie Ordé's side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nane ken how meikle peace an' love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a straw-roof'd cot can bide.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But thae hames are gane, an' the hand o' time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roofless wa's doth raze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laneness an' sweetness hand in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gang ower the Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! an' the sun were shinin' now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An', oh! an' I were there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' twa three friends o' auld langsyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My wanderin' joy to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though on the hearth o' my bairnhood's hame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flock o' the hills doth graze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some kind hearts live to love me yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon bonnie Ordé Braes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM" id="THE_MUIR_O_GORSE_AND_BROOM"></a>THE MUIR O' GORSE AND BROOM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I winna bide in your castle ha's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet in your lofty towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sick o' your darksome bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' oh! I wish I were far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae their grandeur an' their gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blaws fu' kindly there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wave on the muirland bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' the little lochs that toom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gushing burns to the distant sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if I had a dwallin' there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Biggit laigh by a burnie's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ae aik tree, in the summer time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' its leaves that hame might hide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As blithe as a young bridegroom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dearer than palaces to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a lanely cot on a muirland wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mither nurtured me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the meek wild-flowers I playmates made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' my hame wi' the wandering bee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An', oh! if I were far awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae your grandeur an' your gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS" id="THE_BONNIE_HIELAND_HILLS"></a>THE BONNIE HIELAND HILLS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But o' riches or beauty we mak na our care;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts to the burstin'—our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though born in the midst o' the elements' war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The bonnie Hieland hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH" id="THE_BONNIE_ROWAN_BUSH"></a>THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the burnie clear doth gush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My head is white and auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' my bluid is thin an' cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Jeanie first I met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the grass wi' dew was wet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The moon was shining sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' our hearts wi' love did beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! she promised to be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart she did resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did o'er us pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sax bonnie bairns had we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lads an' lassies young an' spree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a blither family<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ours there cou'dna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now my auld wife's gane awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae yon lane glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' though summer sweet doth fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On yon lane glen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me its beauty's gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, alake! I sit alane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the bonnie rowan bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon lane glen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE" id="BONNIE_BESSIE_LEE"></a>BONNIE BESSIE LEE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mirth round her ripe lip was aye dancing slee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light was the footfa', and winsome the wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' the flower o' the parochin, our ain Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' the bairns she would rin, and the school laddies paik,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er the broomy braes like a fairy would flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till auld hearts grew young again wi' love for her sake—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was life in the blithe blink o' bonnie Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She grat wi' the waefu', and laughed wi' the glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And light as the wind 'mang the dancers was she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a tongue that could jeer, too, the little limmer had,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilk keepit aye her ain side for bonnie Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She could sing like the lintwhite that sports 'mang the whins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sweet was her note as the bloom to the bee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It has aft thrilled my heart whaur our wee burnie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where a' thing grew fairer wi' bonnie Bessie Lee.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she whiles had a sweetheart, and sometimes had twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A limmer o' a lassie; but atween you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her warm wee bit heartie she ne'er threw awa',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though mony a ane had sought it frae bonnie Bessie Lee.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But ten years had gane since I gazed on her last—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ten years had parted my auld hame and me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I said to mysel', as her mither's door I passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will I ever get anither kiss frae bonnie Bessie Lee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Time changes a' thing—the ill-natured loon!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were it ever sae rightly, he 'll no let it be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I rubbit at my e'en, and I thought I would swoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How the carle had come roun' about our ain Bessie Lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wee laughing lassie was a gudewife grown auld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twa weans at her apron, and ane on her knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was douce too, and wise-like—and wisdom's sae cauld;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would rather hae the ither ane than this Bessie Lee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING" id="ARCHIBALD_STIRLING_IRVING"></a>ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING.</h2> + + +<p>Archibald Stirling Irving was born in Edinburgh on the 18th of December +1816. His father, John Irving, Writer to the Signet, was the intimate +early friend of Sir Walter Scott, and is "the prosperous gentleman" +referred to in the general Introduction to the Waverley Novels. Having a +delicate constitution, young Irving was unable to follow any regular +profession, but devoted himself, when health permitted, to the concerns +of literature. He made himself abundantly familiar with the Latin +classics, and became intimately conversant with the more distinguished +British poets. Possessed of a remarkably retentive memory, he could +repeat some of the longest poems in the language. Receiving a handsome +annuity from his father, he resided in various of the more interesting +localities of Scottish scenery, some of which he celebrated in verse. He +published anonymously, in 1841, a small volume of "Original Songs," of +which the song selected for the present work may be regarded as a +favourable specimen. He died at Newmills, near Ardrossan, on the 20th +September 1851, in his thirty-fifth year. Some time before his death, he +exclusively devoted himself to serious reflection and Scriptural +reading. He married in October 1850, and his widow still survives.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS" id="THE_WILD-ROSE_BLOOMS"></a>THE WILD-ROSE BLOOMS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Caledonia."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild-rose blooms in Drummond woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trees are blossom'd fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake is smiling to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Mary wand'ring there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The powers that watch'd o'er Mary's birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did nature's charms despoil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stole for her the rose's blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet lake's dimpled smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily for her breast they took,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nut-brown her locks appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when they came to make her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They robb'd the starry sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cruel sure was their design,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mad-like their device—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For while they filled her eyes with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They made her heart of ice.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28" id="ALEXANDER_A_RITCHIE28"></a>ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></h2> + + +<p>Alexander Abernethy Ritchie, author of "The Wells o' Wearie," was born +in the Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1816. In early youth he evinced a lively +appreciation of the humorous and the pathetic, and exhibited remarkable +artistic talent, sketching from nature with fidelity and ease. His +parents being in humble circumstances, he was apprenticed as a +house-painter, and soon became distinguished for his skill in the +decorative branch of his profession. On the expiry of his +apprenticeship, he cultivated painting in a higher department of the +art, and his pictures held a highly respectable place at the annual +exhibitions of the Scottish Academy. Among his pictures which became +favourites may be mentioned the "Wee Raggit Laddie," "The Old Church +Road," "The Gaberlunzie," "Tak' your Auld Cloak about ye," and "The +Captive Truant." His illustrations of his friend, Mr James Ballantine's +works, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet" and "The Miller of Deanhaugh," and of +some other popular works, evince a lively fancy and keen appreciation of +character. He executed a number of water-colour sketches of the more +picturesque and interesting lanes and alleys of Edinburgh; and +contributed to the <i>Illustrated London News</i> representations of +remarkable events as they occurred in the Scottish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> capital. He died +suddenly at St John's Hill, Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1850, in the +thirty-fourth year of his age. Ritchie was possessed of a vast fund of +humour, and was especially esteemed for the simplicity of his manners +and his kindly dispositions. He excelled in reading poetry, whether +dramatic or descriptive, and sung his own songs with intense feeling. He +lived with his aged mother, whom he regarded with dutiful affection, and +who survives to lament his loss. Shortly before his death he composed +the following hymn, which has been set to appropriate music:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Father of blissfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grant me a resting-place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my sad spirit is longing for rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lord, I beseech Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deign Thou to teach me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which path to heaven is surest and best:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lonely and dreary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laden and weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! for a home in the land of the blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Father of holiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look on my lowliness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this sad bondage, O Lord, set me free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grant that, 'mid love and peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorrow and sin may cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in the Saviour my trust it shall be.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Death's sleep comes o'er me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On waking—before me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portals of glory all open I 'll see.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE" id="THE_WELLS_O_WEARIE"></a>THE WELLS O' WEARIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Bonnie House o' Airlie."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak's her look young and cheerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There 's nought in the world to fear ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the sun winna blink in thy bonnie blue e'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I 'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At your form in the water sae clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the fairy will change you into a wee, wee flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you 'll grow by the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen as I wander'd there a' alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I felt unco douf and drearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wanting my Mary, a' around me was but pain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let fortune or fame their minions deceive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let fate look gruesome and eerie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we meet by the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then gang wi' me, my bonnie Mary Grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nae danger will daur to come near ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gang to the Wells o' Wearie.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_LAING" id="ALEXANDER_LAING"></a>ALEXANDER LAING.</h2> + + +<p>One of the simplest and most popular of the living national +song-writers, Alexander Laing, was born at Brechin on the 14th May 1787. +His father, James Laing, was an agricultural labourer. With the +exception of two winters' schooling, he was wholly self-taught. Sent to +tend cattle so early as his eighth year, he regularly carried books and +writing-materials with him to the fields. His books were procured by the +careful accumulation of the halfpence bestowed on him by the admirers of +his juvenile tastes. In his sixteenth year, he entered on the business +of a flax-dresser, in his native town—an occupation in which he was +employed for a period of fourteen years. He afterwards engaged in +mercantile concerns, and has latterly retired from business. He now +resides at Upper Tenements, Brechin, in the enjoyment of a well-earned +competency.</p> + +<p>Mr Laing early wrote verses. In 1819, several songs from his pen +appeared in the "Harp of Caledonia"—a respectable collection of +minstrelsy, edited by John Struthers. He subsequently became a +contributor to the "Harp of Renfrewshire" and the "Scottish Minstrel," +edited by R. A. Smith. His lyrics likewise adorn the pages of +Robertson's "Whistle Binkie" and the "Book of Scottish Song." He +published, in 1846, a collected edition of his poems and songs, in a +duodecimo volume, under the designation of "Wayside Flowers." A second +edition appeared in 1850. He has been an occasional contributor to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> the +local journals; furnished a number of anecdotes for the "Laird of +Logan," a humorous publication of the west of Scotland; and has compiled +some useful elementary works for the use of Sabbath-schools. His lyrics +are uniformly pervaded by graceful simplicity, and the chief themes of +his inspiration are love and patriotism. Than his song entitled "My Ain +Wife," we do not know a lay more beautifully simple. His "Hopeless +Exile" is the perfection of tenderness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="AE_HAPPY_HOUR" id="AE_HAPPY_HOUR"></a>AE HAPPY HOUR.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Cock Laird."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dark gray o' gloamin',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lone leafy shaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coo o' the cushat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scent o' the haw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brae o' the burnie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A' bloomin' in flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' twa' faithfu' lovers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make ae happy hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A kind winsome wifie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A clean canty hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' smilin' sweet babies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lisp the dear name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' plenty o' labour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' health to endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make time to row round aye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ae happy hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye lost to affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom avarice can move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To woo an' to marry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a' thing but love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa' wi' your sorrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awa' wi' your store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye ken na the pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' ae happy hour.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME" id="LASS_GIN_YE_WAD_LOE_ME"></a>LASS, GIN YE WAD LO'E ME.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lass, gin I come near you."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye'se be ladye o' my ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A canty but, a cosie ben,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weel plenish'd ye may trow me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brisk, a blithe, a kind gudeman—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Walth, there 's little doubt ye ha'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bidin' bein an' easy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brisk an' blithe ye canna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' you sae auld an' crazy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wad marriage mak' you young again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wad woman's love renew you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awa', ye silly doitet man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I canna, winna lo'e you!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Witless hizzie, e'en 's you like,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ne'er a doit I 'm carin';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But men maun be the first to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' wanters maun be speerin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lassie, I ha'e lo'ed you lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' now I'm come to woo you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm no sae auld as clashes gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I think you 'd better lo'e me."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Doitet bodie! auld or young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye needna langer tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin ane be loutin' o'er a rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He 's no for me to marry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gae hame an' ance bethink yoursel'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How ye wad come to woo me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mind me i' your latter-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bodie, gin ye lo'e me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LASS_OF_LOGIE" id="LASS_OF_LOGIE"></a>LASS OF LOGIE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Lass of Arranteenie."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 've seen the smiling summer flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the braes of Yarrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've heard the raving winter wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the hills of Barra;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've wander'd Scotland o'er and o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae Teviot to Strathbogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the bonniest lass that I ha'e seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is bonnie Jean of Logie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lips were like the heather bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In meekest dewy morning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks were like the ruddy leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bloomy brier adorning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brow was like the milky flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That blossoms in the bogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love was laughing in her een—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said, "My lassie, come wi' me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hand, my hame are ready;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e a lairdship of my ain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye shall be my ladye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 've ilka thing baith out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make you blithe and vogie;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hung her head and sweetly smiled—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But she has smiled, and fate has frown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wrung my heart with sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie lass sae dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never be my marrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, ah! she loves another lad—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ploughman wi' his cogie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet happy, happy may she be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bonnie lass of Logie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MY_AIN_WIFE" id="MY_AIN_WIFE"></a>MY AIN WIFE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"John Anderson, my Jo."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, Oh! my dainty ain wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's aye sae dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bonnier yet I 've never seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A better canna be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though beauty is a fadin' flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fadin' as it 's fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It looks fu' well in ony wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' mine has a' her share.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She 's bonnie aye to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, couthy is my ingle-cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' cheery is my Jean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never see her angry look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor hear her word on ane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She 's gude wi' a' the neebours roun',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' aye gude wi' me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Oh, her looks sae kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They melt my heart outright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ower the baby at her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She hangs wi' fond delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looks intill its bonnie face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' syne looks to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wadna gi'e my ain wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ony wife I see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE" id="THE_MAID_O_MONTROSE"></a>THE MAID O' MONTROSE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"O tell me the Way for to Woo."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O sweet is the calm dewy gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When saftly by Rossie-wood brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The merle an' mavis are hymning<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The e'en o' the lang summer's day!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweet are the moments when o'er the blue ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The full moon arising in majesty glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I, breathing o'er ilka tender emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' my lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The fopling sae fine an' sae airy,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sae fondly in love wi' himsel',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is proud wi' his ilka new dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To shine at the fair an' the ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gie me the grove where the broom's yellow blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waves o'er the white lily an' red smiling rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ae bonnie lassie to lean on my bosom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O what is the haill warld's treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gane nane o' its pleasures we prove?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An' where can we taste o' true pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Gin no wi' the lassie we love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet are the smiles an' the dimples o' beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lurking the loves an' the graces repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sweet is the form an' the air o' the pretty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sweeter is Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though few are sae bonnie as thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Though handsome as woman can be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose bloom is gane when the chill autumn's low'ring;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The aik's stately form when the wild winter blows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the charms o' the mind are the ties mair enduring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These bind me to Mary, the Maid o' Montrose.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN" id="JEAN_OF_ABERDEEN"></a>JEAN OF ABERDEEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On stately Dee's wild woody knowes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the op'ning lily fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In streamy Don's gay broomy howes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ilka bonnie flower that grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang their banks and braes sae green—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These borrow a' their finest hues<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye 've seen the dew-ey'd bloomy haw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When morning gilds the welkin high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 've heard the breeze o' summer blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When e'ening steals alang the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brighter far is Jeanie's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we 're amang the braes alane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' softer is the bosom-sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I had a' the valleys gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around the airy Bennochie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the lofty hills o' Dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Mem'ry lifts her melting ee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' Hope unfolds her fairy scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart wi' them I'd freely gie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lovely Jean of Aberdeen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_HOPELESS_EXILE" id="THE_HOPELESS_EXILE"></a>THE HOPELESS EXILE.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"Alas! for Poor Teddy Macshane."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! where has the exile his home?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! where has the exile his home?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the mountain is steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the valley is deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the waves of the Ohio foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where no cheering smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His woes may beguile—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! there has the exile his home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! when will the exile return?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! when will the exile return?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our hearts heave no sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our tears shall be dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Erin no longer shall mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his name we disown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When his mem'ry is gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then will the exile return!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="GLEN-NA-HALBYN29" id="GLEN-NA-HALBYN29"></a>GLEN-NA-H'ALBYN.<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>"O rest thee, my Darling."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boat 's on the shallow, the ship on the lake;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! now in a moment my country I leave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next I am far away—far on the wave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to build up his House was the aim of my life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now in his greatness he turns me away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my strength is decay'd and my locks worn gray.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Oh! fare thee well!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell the gray stones of my ancestors' graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go to my place 'neath the foam of the waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where none of my fathers were gathered before!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_CARLILE" id="ALEXANDER_CARLILE"></a>ALEXANDER CARLILE.</h2> + + +<p>Alexander Carlile was born at Paisley in the year 1788. His progenitors +are said to have been remarkable for their acquaintance with the arts, +and relish for elegant literature. His eldest brother, the late Dr +Carlile of Dublin attained much eminence as a profound thinker and an +accomplished theologian. Having received a liberal education, first at +the grammar-school of Paisley, and afterwards in the University of +Glasgow, the subject of this sketch settled as a manufacturer in his +native town. Apart from the avocations of business, much of his time has +been devoted to the concerns of literature; he has contributed to the +more esteemed periodicals, and composed verses for several works on the +national minstrelsy. At an early period he composed the spirited and +popular song, beginning "Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?" which has +since obtained a place in all the collections. His only separate +publication, a duodecimo volume of "Poems," appeared in 1855, and has +been favourably received. Mr Carlile is much devoted to the interests of +his native town, and has sedulously endeavoured to promote the moral and +social welfare of his fellow-townsmen. His unobtrusive worth and elegant +accomplishments have endeared him to a wide circle of friends. His +latter poetical compositions have been largely pervaded by religious +sentiment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30" id="WHAS_AT_THE_WINDOW30"></a>WHA'S AT THE WINDOW?<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">Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wha but blithe Jamie Glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He 's come sax miles and ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa, awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has plighted his troth, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leal love to gi'e, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sae has she dune,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By a' that 's abune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a', 'bune a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bridal-maidens are braw, braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bridal-maidens are braw, braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But the bride's modest e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And warm cheek are to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's quaffing and laughing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There 's dancing and daffing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bride's father 's blithest of a', of a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride's father 's blithest of a'.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That my heart is sae eerie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When a' the lave 's cheerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it 's just that she 'll aye be awa, awa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's just that she 'll aye be awa.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES" id="MY_BROTHERS_ARE_THE_STATELY_TREES"></a>MY BROTHERS ARE THE STATELY TREES.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My brothers are the stately trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in the forests grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simple flowers my sisters are,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That on the green bank blow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them, with them, I am a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The daisy, with its tear of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gay greets me as I stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet a voice of welcome comes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From every trembling spray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How light, how bright, the golden-wing'd hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spend among those songs and flowers!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the Spirit of the Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His varied tones I know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His voice of soothing majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love and sobbing woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er his varied theme may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his my spirit mingles free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love to tread the grass-green path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far up the winding stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there in nature's loneliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day is one bright dream.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And still the pilgrim waters tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wanderings wild by wood and dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or up the mountain's brow I toil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath a wid'ning sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crowding the wondering eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, then, my soul on eagle's wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cloudless regions upwards springs!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars—the stars! I know each one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all its soul of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They beckon me to come and live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their tearless homes above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN" id="THE_VALE_OF_KILLEAN"></a>THE VALE OF KILLEAN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid Scotia's dark mountains—the Vale of Killean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How solemn the broad hills that curtain around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sanctuary of nature, 'mid a wilderness found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose echoes low whisper, "Bid the world farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then build me a cot by that lake's verdant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the world's wild turmoil I 'll mingle no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man's crimes and his follies, no more shall I hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Morn, as on tiptoe he ushers the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soul her own meekness—a rich glow to the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the mist from the mountain to blend with the skies.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_NEVAY" id="JOHN_NEVAY"></a>JOHN NEVAY.</h2> + + +<p>John Nevay, the bard of Forfar, was born in that town on the 28th of +January 1792. He was educated at the schools of his native place, and +considerably improved himself in classical learning, at an early age, +under the tuition of Mr James Clarke, sometime master of the Burgh +School, and the friend and correspondent of Burns. Fond of solitary +rambles in the country, he began, while a mere youth, to portray in +verse his impressions of the scenery which he was in the habit of +surveying. He celebrated the green fields, the lochs and mountains near +the scene of his nativity, and was rewarded with the approving smiles of +the family circle. Acquiring facility in the production of verses, he +was at length induced to venture on a publication. In 1818 he gave to +the world a "Pamphlet of Rhymes," which, obtaining a ready sale, induced +him to publish a second small collection of verses in 1821. After an +interval devoted to mental improvement, he appeared, in 1834, as the +author of "The Peasant, a Poem in Nine Cantos, with other Poems," in one +volume, 12mo. In the following year he published "The Child of Nature, +and other Poems," in a thin duodecimo volume. In 1853 he printed, by +subscription, a third volume, entitled "Rosaline's Dream, in Four Duans, +and other Poems," which was accompanied with an introductory essay by +the Rev. George Gilfillan. His latest production—"The Fountain of the +Rock, a Poem"—appeared in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> pamphlet form, in 1855. He has repeatedly +written prose tales for the periodicals, and has contributed verses to +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> and the <i>Edinburgh Literary Journal</i>.</p> + +<p>From the labour of a long career of honourable industry, John Nevay is +now enjoying the pleasures of retirement. He continues to compose verses +with undiminished ardour, and has several MS. poems ready for the press. +He has also prepared a lengthened autobiography. As a poet, his +prevailing themes are the picturesque objects of nature. His lyrical +pieces somewhat lack simplicity. His best production—"The Emigrant's +Love-letter"—will maintain a place in the national minstrelsy. It was +composed during the same week with Motherwell's "Jeanie Morrison," which +it so peculiarly resembles both in expression and sentiment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER" id="THE_EMIGRANTS_LOVE-LETTER"></a>THE EMIGRANT'S LOVE-LETTER.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A century to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy voice's melodie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mony hardships I ha'e tholed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sin' I left Larocklea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I maun na tell, for it would bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The saut tear in thine e'e.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I ha'e news, an' happy news,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell unto my love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I ha'e won, to me mair dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That it my heart can prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its thochts unchanged, still it is true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' surely sae is thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou never, never canst forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That twa waur ane langsyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The simmer sun blinks on the tarn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' on the primrose brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we, in days o' innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waur wont to daff an' play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I amang the mossy springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wade for the hinny blooms—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee the rush tiara wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bedeck'd wi' lily plumes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When on the ferny knowe we sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A happy, happy pair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy comely cheek laid on my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I plaited thy gowden hair.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then I felt the holiest thocht<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That e'er enter'd my mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It, Mary, was to be to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever true an' kind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though fair the flowers that bloom around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dwallin' owre the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bricht the streams, an' green the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They are na <i>sae</i> to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the bulbul's mellow leed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upo' the gorgeous paum—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet cheep o' the feather'd bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the fields o' baum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there are nae auld Scotland's burds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae dear to childhood's days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laverock, lintie, shulf, an' yyoite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That taught us luve's sweet lays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gin' thou e'er wauk'st alane to think<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On him that's owre the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their cheerfu' saft luve-lilts will tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart's luve-thochts to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lat joy be in thy leal, true heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' bricht smile in thine e'e—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonnie bark is in the bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'm coming hame to thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I 'm coming hame to thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' mony a pearl fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I will lay them in thy lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the kiss o' sweet langsyne.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_LYLE" id="THOMAS_LYLE"></a>THOMAS LYLE.</h2> + + +<p>Thomas Lyle, author of the highly popular song, "Kelvin Grove," is a +native of Paisley. Attending the philosophical and medical classes in +the University of Glasgow, he obtained the diploma of surgeon in the +year 1816. He commenced medical practice in Glasgow, where he remained +till 1826, when he removed to the parish of Airth in Stirlingshire. The +latter locality afforded him abundant opportunities for prosecuting his +favourite study of botany; and he frequently proceeded at early dawn to +great distances in quest of curious or rare plants, so as to gratify his +peculiar tastes without interfering with the duties of his profession, +or the conveniences of his patients. At an earlier period of life, +having cherished a love for the ancient national music, he was in the +habit of collecting and noting such of the older airs as were rapidly +passing into oblivion. He was particularly struck with one of these +airs, which he deemed worthy of more suitable words than those to which +it was commonly sung.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> At this period he often resorted, in his +botanical rambles, to the wooded and sequestered banks of the Kelvin, +about two miles north-west of Glasgow;<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> and in consequence, he was +led to compose for his favourite tune<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> the words of his beautiful song, +"Kelvin Grove." "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was now in the course of +being published, in sixpence numbers, under the editorship of his +college friend and professional brother, John Sim, and to this work he +contributed his new song. In a future number of the work, the song +appeared without his name, as was requested, but with some unauthorised +alterations. Of these he complained to Mr Sim, who laid the blame on Mr +John Murdoch, who had succeeded him in the editorship, and Mr Lyle did +not further prosecute inquiry on the subject. On the retirement of Mr +Murdoch, the editorship of "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was intrusted to +the poet Motherwell, who incautiously ascribed the song to Mr Sim in the +index of the work. Sim died in the West Indies before this period;<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> +and, in the belief that the song had been composed by him, Mr Purdie, +music-seller in Edinburgh, made purchase of the copyright from his +representatives, and published the words, with music arranged for the +piano by Robert Archibald Smith. Mr Lyle now asserted his title to the +authorship, and on Mr Sim's letter regarding the alterations being +submitted to Messrs Motherwell and Smith, a decision in favour of his +claim was pronounced by these gentlemen. Mr Lyle was shortly after +invited by Mr Smith to contribute songs for the "Irish Minstrel," one of +his numerous musical publications.</p> + +<p>In 1827 Mr Lyle published the results of his researches into the song +literature of his country, in a duodecimo volume, entitled "Ancient +Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition, Manuscripts, and scarce +Works, with Biographical and Illustrative Notices." Of this work, the +more interesting portion consists of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> "Miscellaneous Poems, by Sir +William Mure, Knight of Rowallan," together with several songs of +various merit by the editor.</p> + +<p>Having acted as medical practitioner at Airth during the period of +twenty-eight years, Mr Lyle, in the close of 1853, returned to Glasgow, +where he soon found himself actively employed by the medical boards of +the city during the prevalence of the Asiatic Cholera. At the present +time he is one of the city district surgeons. A man of the most retiring +dispositions, he has hitherto avoided public reputation, and has written +verses, as he has studied botany, solely for his amusement. He will, +however, be remembered as the writer of some exquisitely sweet and +simple lyrics.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="KELVIN_GROVE" id="KELVIN_GROVE"></a>KELVIN GROVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the rose in all her pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Paints the hollow dingle side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the glens rebound the call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the roaring water's fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the mountains rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There the May pink's crimson plume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throws a soft but sweet perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the smile of fortune 's thine, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet with fortune on my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could stay thy father's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere yon golden orb of day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wake the warblers on the spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the river winding clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the fragrant-scented breer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy lover on his bier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_TRYSTING_HOUR" id="THE_TRYSTING_HOUR"></a>THE TRYSTING HOUR.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night-wind's Eolian breezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chase melody over the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Float rosy the woodlands above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tarry no longer, my true love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars hang their lamps in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When each bloom has a tear in its eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So stilly the evening is closing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eolian whispers reposing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathe softly, I hear my love call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, the light fairy step of my true love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The night breeze is wafting to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over heathbell and violet blue, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perfuming the shadowy lea.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="HARVEST_SONG34" id="HARVEST_SONG34"></a>HARVEST SONG.<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 harvest morning breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathing balm, and the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the mist in rosy streaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gilds the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fairy troops descend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the rolling clouds that bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the forest as they wend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast away, when the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chases cloudy wreaths away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harvest breezes swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the song pours along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the reapers in the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joyous throng!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tiny gleaners come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picking up their harvest home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they o'er the stubble roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dancing here, sporting there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the balmy sunny air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is full of song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harvest evening falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While each flower round the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing odour, now recalls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lover's hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon enthroned in blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights the rippling lake anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wailing owls' whoo! whoo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the glen again, again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakes the stillness of the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On my adieu.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_HOME" id="JAMES_HOME"></a>JAMES HOME.</h2> + + +<p>James Home, the author of "Mary Steel," and other popular songs, was +born, early in the century, on the farm of Hollybush, about a mile south +of Galashiels. During a period of about thirty years, he has been +engaged in the humble capacity of a dry-stone mason in Peeblesshire. He +resides in the hamlet of Rachan Mill in that county, where, in addition +to his ordinary employment, he holds the office of postmaster.</p> + +<p>Home has not ventured on a publication, and latterly has abandoned the +composition of verses. In youth he was, writes a correspondent, "an +enthusiast in love, music, and poetry." A number of his songs and +poetical pieces, which he had addressed to friends, have long been +popular in the south of Scotland. His song entitled "This Lassie o' +Mine" has enjoyed an uncommon measure of general favour. His +compositions are replete with pathos; he has skilfully told the lover's +tale; and has most truthfully depicted the joys and sorrows, hopes and +fears of human life. Some of his best pieces appear in the "Unknown +Poets" of Mr Alexander Campbell,—a work which only reached a single +number. Of mild dispositions, modest manners, and industrious habits, +Home is much respected in private life. Of a somewhat sanguine +complexion, his countenance betokens superior intellectual power. He +enjoys the comfort of a suitable partner in life, and is a respected +office-bearer of the Free Church congregation at Broughton.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="MARY_STEEL" id="MARY_STEEL"></a>MARY STEEL.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the lark begins to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are welcoming the spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the merle and the blackbird build their nest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bushy forest tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' things under the sky seem blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the simmer spreads her flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lily blooms and the ivy twines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In beauty round the bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the cushat coos in the leafy wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lambs sport o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every heart 's in its happiest mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When har'st blithe days begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foremost rig to win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where light-hair'd lasses be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a tale o' love is tauld,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the winter winds rave high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tempest wild is pourin' doun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae the dark and troubled sky:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When a hopeless wail is heard on land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shrieks frae the roaring sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wreck o' nature seems at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts shall be o' thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN" id="OH_HAST_THOU_FORGOTTEN"></a>OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN?</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hours we have spent together?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine on as brightly as ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So fraught with the heart's full feeling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we clung to each other in the last embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul of love revealing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the farewell word was spoken?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vow and the promise broken?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though other arms caress thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a smoother tongue should bless thee:—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet never again on thy warm young cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will breathe a soul more warm than mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never again will a lover speak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of love more pure to thine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART" id="THE_MAID_OF_MY_HEART"></a>THE MAID OF MY HEART.</h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Air</span>—<i>"The Last Rose of Summer."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only beloved of my bosom is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When around and above us there 's nought to be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all is at rest in the glen and the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT" id="SONG_OF_THE_EMIGRANT"></a>SONG OF THE EMIGRANT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! the land of hills is the land for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the maiden's step is light and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shepherd's pipe, and the hunter's horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake the joys of the rosy morn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells how the foamy billows break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells of dreary solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, oh! when it comes from the mountain fells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Spirit of Song and Freedom dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in youth's warm day I woke that strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er in this world can wake again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The warm blood leaps in its wonted course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh tears gush from their briny source,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if I had hail'd in the passing wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The all I have loved and left behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35" id="THIS_LASSIE_O_MINE35"></a>THIS LASSIE O' MINE.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h3> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tune</span>—<i>"Wattie's Ramble."</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure naebody e'er was sae happy as me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It 's no that she dances sae light on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 's no the simplicity marked in her mien—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, O! it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That keeps me aye happy as happy can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe out the soul in a saft melting kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When friends circle round, and nought to annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have felt every joy which illumines the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, O! there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's early day, when the bosom is warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When soul meets with soul in a saft melting kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_TELFER" id="JAMES_TELFER"></a>JAMES TELFER.</h2> + + +<p>James Telfer, an ingenious prose writer and respectable poet, was born +about the commencement of the century, near the source of the river Jed, +in the parish of Southdean, and county of Roxburgh. Passionate in his +admiration of Hogg's "Queen's Wake," he early essayed imitations of some +of the more remarkable portions of that poem. In 1824 he published at +Jedburgh a volume of "Border Ballads and Miscellaneous Poems," which he +inscribed to the Bard of Ettrick. "Barbara Gray," an interesting prose +tale, appeared from his pen in 1835, printed at Newcastle. A collected +edition of his best productions in prose and verse was published at +London in 1852, with the title of "Tales and Sketches." He has long been +a contributor to the provincial journals.</p> + +<p>Some of Mr Telfer's ballads are respectable specimens of this class of +compositions; and his tales in prose are written with much vigour, the +narrative of "Barbara Gray" being especially interesting. For many years +he has taught an adventure school at Saughtree, Liddisdale; and with +emoluments not much beyond twenty pounds a-year, he has contrived to +support a family. He has long maintained a literary correspondence with +his ingenious friend, Mr Robert White of Newcastle; and his letters, +some of which we have seen, abound with curious and interesting +speculations.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36" id="OH_WILL_YE_WALK_THE_WOOD_WI_ME36"></a>OH, WILL YE WALK THE WOOD WI' ME?<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">"Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, will ye walk the green?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or will ye sit within mine arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ain kind Jean?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It 's I 'll not walk the wood wi' thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet will I the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as for sitting in your arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 's what I dinna mean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! slighted love is ill to thole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weel may I compleen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since that better mayna be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I e'en maun thol 't for Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gang up to May o' Mistycleugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye saw her late yestreen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye'll find in her a lightsome love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye winna find in Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wi' bonny May o' Mistycleugh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I carena to be seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lightsome love I'd freely gie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For half a blink frae Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gang down to Madge o' Miryfaulds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ken for her ye green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' her ye 'll get a purse o' gowd—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye 'll naething get wi' Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For doity Madge o' Miryfaulds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dinna care a preen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purse o' gowd I weel could want,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I could hae my Jean."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, yes! I 'll walk the wood wi' thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, yes! I 'll walk the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first ye 'll meet me at the kirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mak' me aye your Jean."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA" id="I_MAUN_GAE_OVER_THE_SEA"></a>I MAUN GAE OVER THE SEA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet summer now is by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cauld winter is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wan leaves they fa' frae the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills are white wi' snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the frosty winds blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I maun gie over the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I maun gie over the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But winter will gang by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer come wi' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Nature again will be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wooers you will find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mair ye 'll never mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laddie that 's over the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laddie that 's over the sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, Willie, since it 's sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is very wae<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave a' my friends and countrie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wi' thee I will gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the way it be lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The way is vera far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And terrible is war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And great are the hardships to dree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I should be slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a prisoner ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My jewel, what would come o' thee, Mary?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My jewel, what would come o' thee?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sae at hame ye maun bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should it sae betide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a bride to another ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ane that lo'ed ye dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye 'll whiles drap a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll aften do the same for thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll aften do the same for thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rowan tear down fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bosom wasna well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she sabbit most wofullie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oure the yirth I wad gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never count it lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I fear ye carena for me, Willie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I fear ye carena for me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nae langer could he thole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tore his vera soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He dighted her bonnie blue e'e;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, what was it you said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh my ain loving maid?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll never love a woman but thee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fae is forced to yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freedom has the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Away I will ne'er gang frae thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only death shall us part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep sic thoughts frae my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never shall part us the sea, Mary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never shall part us the sea."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>METRICAL TRANSLATIONS<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 50%;">FROM</span><br /> +<br /> +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EVAN_MACLACHLAN" id="EVAN_MACLACHLAN"></a>EVAN MACLACHLAN.</h2> + + +<p>One of the most learned of the modern Gaelic song-writers, Evan +Maclachlan, was born in 1775, in a small hut called Torracaltuin, in the +district of Lochaber. After struggling with many difficulties in +obtaining the means of education, he qualified himself for the duties of +an itinerating tutor. In this capacity it was his good fortune to live +in the families of the substantial tenantry of the district, two of +whom, the farmers at Clunes and Glen Pean, were led to evince an +especial interest in his welfare. The localities of those early patrons +he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry, +supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was +fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's +College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he +gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the +celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years, +the office of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected +master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on +the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he +devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease, +the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society, +under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief +amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of +Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has +been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed +from the following specimens in English verse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="A_MELODY_OF_LOVE" id="A_MELODY_OF_LOVE"></a>A MELODY OF LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The first stanza of this song was the composition of a +lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic, +and afterwards produced the following version of the +whole in English.</p></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The locks of my fair one redundantly flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they glitter with dew on the morning of May.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN" id="THE_MAVIS_OF_THE_CLAN"></a>THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>These verses are allegorical. In the character of a +song-bird the bard relates the circumstances of his +nativity, the simple habits of his progenitors, and his +own rural tastes and recreations from infancy, giving +the first place to the delights of melody. He proceeds +to give an account of his flight to a strange but +hospitable region, where he continued to sing his songs +among the birds, the flocks, the streams, and +cultivated fields of the land of his sojourn. This +piece is founded upon a common usage of the Gaelic +bards, several of whom assume the allegorical character +of the "Mavis" of their own clan. Thus we have the +Mavis of Clan-ranald by Mac-Vaistir-Allister—of +Macdonald (of Sleat) by Mac Codrum—of Macleod, and +many others.</p></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> silver stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the glades of Cluaran<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> must imp my wings and fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_THREE_BARDS_OF_COWAL39" id="THE_THREE_BARDS_OF_COWAL39"></a>THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_BROWN" id="JOHN_BROWN"></a>JOHN BROWN.</h2> + + +<p>One of the bards of Cowal is believed to have been born in the parish of +Inverchaolain about 1750; his family name was Brun or Broun, as +distinguished from the Lowland Brown, which he assumed. He first +appeared as a poet by the publication, at Perth, in 1786, of a small +volume of Gaelic poetry, dedicated to the Duke of Montrose. The +subsequent portion of his career seems to have been chiefly occupied in +genealogical researches. In 1792 he completed, in two large sheets, his +"Historical and Genealogical Tree of the Royal Family of Scotland;" of +which the second edition bears the date 1811. This was followed by +similar genealogical trees of the illustrious family of Graham, of the +noble house of Elphinstone, and other families. In these productions he +uniformly styles himself, "Genealogist to his R. H. the Prince of Wales, +for Scotland." Brown died at Edinburgh in the beginning of the year +1821. He had formed a respectable connexion by marriage, under +circumstances which he has commemorated in the annexed specimen of his +poetry, but his latter years were somewhat clouded by misfortune. He is +remembered as a solicitor for subscriptions to his genealogical +publications.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY" id="THE_SISTERS_OF_DUNOLLY"></a>THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The poet had paid his addresses to one of the sisters, +but without the consent of her relatives, who +ultimately induced her to wed another. After a lapse of +time the bard transferred his affection to another +daughter of the same distinguished family, and being +successful, was compensated for his former trials.</p></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars were attired in the glory of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hope of the lover was shining as day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away she has gone at the touch of the helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, would that his strength as his purpose was true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the <i>Brunach</i><a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> would joy, in the succour they gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win him a bride, or to win him a grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the flush of my health and my penniless youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister is salving a sister's annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bride worth the princesses England is rearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in friendship or charity never beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is mine—to Dunduala<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> that traces her stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Donald<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> the gracious be head of her line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And "our exiled and dear"<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> in her pedigree shine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then hearken, ye men of the country I love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_STEWART_DD" id="CHARLES_STEWART_DD"></a>CHARLES STEWART, D.D.</h2> + + +<p>The Rev. Dr Stewart was born at Appin, Argyllshire, in 1751. His mother +was a daughter of Edmonstone of Cambuswallace, the representative of an +old and distinguished family in the counties of Perth and Stirling; and +his father was brother of Stewart of Invernachoil, who was actively +engaged in the cause of Prince Charles Edward, and has been +distinguished in the romance of Waverley as the Baron of Bradwardine. +This daring Argyllshire chief, whom Scott represents as being fed in the +cave by "Davie Gellatly," was actually tended in such a place of +concealment by his own daughter, a child about ten years old.</p> + +<p>On receiving license, Dr Stewart soon attained popularity as a preacher. +In 1779, being in his twenty-eighth year, he was ordained to the +pastoral charge of the parish of Strachur, Argyllshire. He died in the +manse of Strachur on the 24th of May 1826, in the seventy-fifth year of +his age, and the forty-seventh of his ministry. A tombstone was erected +to his memory in the parochial burying-ground, by the members of the +kirk-session. Possessed of superior talents, a vast fund of humour, and +a delightful store of traditional information, he was much cherished by +a wide circle of admiring friends. Faithful in the discharge of the +public duties of his office, he was distinguished among his parishioners +for his private amenities and acts of benevolence. He was the author +only of one song, but this has attained much favour among the Gael.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL" id="LUINEAG_A_LOVE_CAROL"></a>LUINEAG—A LOVE CAROL.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No homeward scene near me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No comrade to cheer me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cling to my dearie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sigh till I marry.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing ever O, and ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing ever O, and ra-ill O,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Was ever a May like my fairy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My youth with the stranger,<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next on mountains a ranger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pass'd—but no change, here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will sever from Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ringlets discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gloss thy brows over—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget thee! thy lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, first shall they bury.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy aspect of kindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy graces they bind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like Feili,<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> remind us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a heaven undreary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than the treasures of Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would toil more to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love—but my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the shell is o'erflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its dew-drops are glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, never, thy snow on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A slander shall tarry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When viols are playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dancers are Maying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes may be straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my soul is with Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That white hand of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might I take into mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I ever repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or from tenderness vary?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, never! no, never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My troth on 't for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lip to lip, I 'd deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My being to Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ANGUS_FLETCHER" id="ANGUS_FLETCHER"></a>ANGUS FLETCHER.</h2> + + +<p>Angus Fletcher was born at Coirinti, a wild and romantic spot on the +west bank of Loch Eck, in June 1776. His education was chiefly conducted +at the parish school of Kilmodan, Glendaruel. From Glendaruel he went to +Bute, in 1791, where he was variously employed till May 1804, when he +was elected schoolmaster of Dunoon, his native parish. His death took +place at Dunoon in 1852. The first of the two following songs was +contributed anonymously to the <i>Weekly Journal</i> newspaper, whence it was +transferred by Turner into his Gaelic collection. It soon became popular +in the Highlands, and the authorship came to be assigned to different +individuals. Fletcher afterwards announced himself as the author, and +completely established his claim. He was the author of various metrical +compositions both in Gaelic and English.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL" id="THE_CLACHAN_OF_GLENDARUEL"></a>THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thy wily eyes, my darling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy graces bright, my jewel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have grieved me since our parting<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the kirk of Glendaruel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas to the Kirkton wending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright eyes encounter'd duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mavis' notes were blending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the rosy cheeks of beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her arms, her instep queenly;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And her sweet parting lips are graced<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rows of ivory inly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When busy tongues are railing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lown is her word unsaucy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with modest grace unfailing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She trips it o'er the causey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should royalty prefer me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Preferment none I crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to live a shepherd near thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the howes of Corrichnaive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would fortune crown my wishes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shealing of the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my darling, and the rushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To couch on, were my will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear, but not instruction,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though faithful lips are pleading—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read thy eyes' perfection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On their dew of mildness feeding.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hand is swiftly scrolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the courts of reverend men;<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! my restless soul in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is triumphing my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear, I fear their frowning—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But though they chased me over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Holland's flats<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> are drowning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I 'll live and die thy lover.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<h3><a name="THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN" id="THE_LASSIE_OF_THE_GLEN"></a>THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN.</h3> + +<p class='center'>Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By a burnie's dimplit linn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I told my love with artless blushes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the lassie o' the glen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh! the birken bank sae grassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Living in yon rashy glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be aye my fav'rite theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on thy banks my Highland lassie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First confess'd a mutual flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some sweet wee bow'ry den!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fondly stray amang the rashes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' the lassie o' the glen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though I wander now unhappy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far frae scenes we haunted then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the lassie o' the glen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GLOSSARY" id="GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + + +<p><i>Aboon</i>, above.</p> + +<p><i>Aumry</i>, a store-place.</p> + +<p><i>Baum</i>, balm.</p> + +<p><i>Beuk</i>, book.</p> + +<p><i>Bicker</i>, a drinking vessel.</p> + +<p><i>Burnie</i>, a small stream.</p> + +<p><i>Caller</i>, cool.</p> + +<p><i>Cled</i>, clad.</p> + +<p><i>Clud</i>, cloud.</p> + +<p><i>Couthy</i>, frank.</p> + +<p><i>Daffin'</i>, merry-making.</p> + +<p><i>Dighted</i>, wiped.</p> + +<p><i>Doit</i>, a small coin.</p> + +<p><i>Doitet</i>, dotard.</p> + +<p><i>Douf</i>, sad.</p> + +<p><i>Dree</i>, endure.</p> + +<p><i>Dwine</i>, dwindle.</p> + +<p><i>Fauld</i>, fold.</p> + +<p><i>Fleechit</i>, cajoled.</p> + +<p><i>Fykes</i>, troubles, anxieties.</p> + +<p><i>Gaed</i>, went.</p> + +<p><i>Gar</i>, compel.</p> + +<p><i>Gate</i>, way.</p> + +<p><i>Glour</i>, look earnestly.</p> + +<p><i>Grannie</i>, grandmother.</p> + +<p><i>Grat</i>, wept.</p> + +<p><i>Grit</i>, great.</p> + +<p><i>Haill</i>, whole.</p> + +<p><i>Haud</i>, hold, keep.</p> + +<p><i>Heuk</i>, reaping-hook.</p> + +<p><i>Hie</i>, high.</p> + +<p><i>Hinny</i>, honey.</p> + +<p><i>Hizzie</i>, <i>Hussy</i>, a thoughtless girl.</p> + +<p><i>Ken</i>, know.</p> + +<p><i>Knows</i>, knolls, hillocks.</p> + +<p><i>Laith</i>, loth.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, firmament.</p> + +<p><i>Lowin'</i>, burning.</p> + +<p><i>Minnie</i>, mother.</p> + +<p><i>Parochin'</i>, parish.</p> + +<p><i>Pu'</i>, pull.</p> + +<p><i>Roos'd</i>, praised.</p> + +<p><i>Sabbit</i>, sobbed.</p> + +<p><i>Scour</i>, search.</p> + +<p><i>Slee</i>, sly.</p> + +<p><i>Speerin'</i>, inquiring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Swiggit</i>, swallowed.</p> + +<p><i>Syne</i>, then.</p> + +<p><i>Thole</i>, endure.</p> + +<p><i>Toom</i>, empty.</p> + +<p><i>Troth</i>, truth, vow.</p> + +<p><i>Trow</i>, believe.</p> + +<p><i>Tyne</i>, lose.</p> + +<p><i>Unco</i>, uncommon.</p> + +<p><i>Wag</i>, shake.</p> + +<p><i>Waur</i>, worse.</p> + +<p><i>Ween</i>, guess.</p> + +<p><i>Yirth</i>, earth.</p> + +<p><i>Yowes</i>, ewes.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'>END OF VOL. IV.</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: small;">EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A flock of sheep.</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> See Minstrel, vol. iii. p. 186.</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> "Songs of the Ark, with other Poems." Edin. 1831. 8vo.</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> "The Christian Politician, or the Right Way of Thinking." +Edinburgh, 1844, 8vo. This work, now nearly out of print, we would +especially commend to the favourable attention of the Religious Tract +Society.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "Poems, Songs, and Miscellaneous Pieces." Edinburgh, 1847, +12mo.</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> This song, set to music by Mr Peter M'Leod, was published +in a separate form, and the profits, which amounted to a considerable +sum, given for the purpose of placing a parapet and railing around the +monument of Burns on the Calton Hill, Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This exquisite lay forms a portion of "The Cottagers of +Glendale," Mr Riddell's longest ballad poem.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> This song was composed by Mrs Inglis, in honour of the +Ettrick Shepherd, shortly after the period of his death.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</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> Of this song a new version was composed by Burns, the +original chorus being retained. Burns' version commences—"Hark the +mavis' evening sang."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> This song was addressed by Mr Jamieson to Miss Jane +Morrison of Alloa, the heroine of Motherwell's popular ballad of "Jeanie +Morrison," and who had thus the singular good fortune to be celebrated +by two different poets. For some account of Miss Morrison, now Mrs +Murdoch, see vol. iii. p. 233.</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> A MS. copy of this song had been sent by the author to the +Ettrick Shepherd. Having been found among the Shepherd's papers after +his decease, it was regarded as his own composition, and has +consequently been included in the posthumous edition of his songs, +published by the Messrs Blackie. The song appears in Imlah's "May +Flowers," published in 1827.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The chorus of this song, which is said to have been +originally connected with a plaintive Jacobite ditty, now lost, has +suggested several modern songs similar in manner and sentiment. Imlah +composed two songs with this chorus. The earlier of these compositions +appears in the "May Flowers." It is evidently founded upon a rumour, +which prevailed in Aberdeenshire during the first quarter of the +century, to the effect, that a Scottish officer, serving in Egypt, had +been much affected on hearing a soldier's wife <i>crooning</i> to herself the +original words of the air. We have inserted in the text Imlah's second +version, as being somewhat smoother in versification. It is the only +song which we have transcribed from his volume, published in 1841. But +the most popular words which have been attached to the air and chorus +were the composition of a student in one of the colleges of Aberdeen, +nearly thirty years since, who is now an able and accomplished clergyman +of the Scottish Church. Having received the chorus and heard the air +from a comrade, he immediately composed the following verses, here +printed from the author's MS.:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander birks and braes amang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How mony a day, in blithe spring-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How mony a day, in summer's prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wil'd awa' my careless time<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the heights o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walth is won wi' grief and strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When baith our hearts were young and licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wi' speeches fond and free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the back o' Bennachie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +"The air," communicates the reverend author of this song, "is +undoubtedly old, from its resemblance to several Gaelic and Irish airs. +'Cuir's chiste moir me,' and several others, might be thought to have +been originally the same <i>in the first part</i>. The second part of the air +is, I think, modern." The Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, +in Aberdeenshire.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> In the "Cottagers of Glendale," Mr H. S. Riddell alludes +to two of Tweedie's brothers, who perished among the snow in the manner +described in that poem. The present memoir is prepared from materials +chiefly supplied by Mr Riddell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> At the request of one Roger, a music-master in Edinburgh, +who had obtained a copy of the first two stanzas, a third was added by +Mr Robert Chambers, and in this form the song appears in some of the +collections. Mr Chambers's stanza proceeds thus:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In southern climes the radiant sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A brighter light displays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I love best his milder beams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shine on Scotland's braes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then dear, romantic native land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er I roam from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Scotland's hills for me!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."</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> We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert +Chambers for many of the particulars contained in this memoir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Printed from the author's MS., in the possession of Mr H. +S. Riddell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Printed for the first time from the original MS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> We are indebted to William Pagan, Esq. of Clayton, author +of "Road Reform," for much of the information contained in this memoir. +Mr Pagan kindly procured for our use the whole of Mr Allan's papers and +MSS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> In Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," this song is +attributed to the Rev. George Allan, D.D. It is also inserted among the +songs of the Ettrick Shepherd, published by the Messrs Blackie. The +latter blunder is accounted for by the fact that a copy of the song, +which was sent to the Shepherd by Mr H. S. Riddell, as a specimen of Mr +Allan's poetical talents, had been found among his papers subsequent to +his decease. This song, with the two immediately following, appeared in +M'Leod's "National Melodies," but they are here transcribed from the +author's MSS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Printed, for the first time, from the author's MS.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Printed for the first time.</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> Captain Doyne Sillery was born in Drogheda, Ireland, of +which place his father was mayor during the Rebellion of 1798, and where +he possessed considerable property. He was descended from one of the +most ancient and illustrious families in France, of which the +representative took refuge in England during the infamous persecution of +the Protestants in the sixteenth century. On the reduction of priestly +power in Ireland by Cromwell, the family settled in that portion of the +United Kingdom. The family name was originally Brulart. Nicolas Brulart, +Marquis de Sillery, Lord de Pinsieux, de Marinis, and de Berny, acquired +much reputation from the many commissions in which he served in France. +(See "L'Histoire Généalogique et Chronologique des Chanceliers de +France," tom. vi. p. 524). On the maternal side Captain Sillery was +lineally descended from Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, the famous +chancellor.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Admiral Sir Charles Napier.</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> Alexander Bethune, the elder brother of the poet, and his +constant companion and coadjutor in literary work, was born at Upper +Rankeillor, in the parish of Monimail, in July 1804. His education was +limited to a few months' attendance at a subscription school in his +sixth year, with occasional lessons from his parents. Like his younger +brother, he followed the occupation of a labourer, frequently working in +the quarry or breaking stones on the public road. Early contracting a +taste for literature, his leisure hours were devoted to reading and +composition. In 1835, several of his productions appeared in <i>Chambers' +Edinburgh Journal</i>. "Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," a +volume by the brothers, of which the greater portion was written by +Alexander, was published in 1838; their joint-treatise on "Practical +Economy" in the year following. In 1843, Alexander published a small +volume of tales, entitled "The Scottish Peasant's Fireside," which was +favourably received. During the same year he was offered the editorship +of the <i>Dumfries Standard</i> newspaper, with a salary of £100 a-year, but +he was unable to accept the appointment from impaired health. He died at +Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh, on the 13th June 1843, and his remains +were interred in his brother's grave in Abdie churchyard. An interesting +volume of his Memoirs, "embracing Selections from his Correspondence and +Literary Memoirs," was published in 1845 by Mr William M'Combie.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> The last four lines of this stanza are not the production +of Nicoll, but have been contributed for the present work by Mr +Alexander Wilson, of Perth. The insertion of the lines prevents the +occurrence of a half stanza, which has hitherto interfered with the +singing of this popular song.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> We are indebted to Mr James Ballantine, of Edinburgh, for +the particulars contained in this memoir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> "Glen-na-h'Albyn, or Glen-more-na-h'Albyn, the great Glen +of Caledonia, is a name applied to the valley which runs in a direction +from north-east to south-west, the whole breadth of the kingdom, from +the Moray Firth at Inverness to the Sound of Mull below Fort-William, +and is almost filled with lakes."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> The title of this song seems to have been suggested by +that of a ballad recovered by Cromek, and published in his "Remains of +Nithsdale and Galloway Song," p. 219. The first line of the old ballad +runs thus: "Oh, who is this under my window."—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The former words to this air commenced, "Oh, the +shearing's no for you, bonnie lassie, O!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> The wooded scenery of the Kelvin will in a few years be +included within the boundaries of the city, which has already extended +within a very limited space of the "grove" celebrated in the song.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> See vol. iii., p. 226.</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> Contributed by Mr Lyle to the present work.</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> This song was formerly introduced in this work (vol. ii. +p. 70) as the composition of the Ettrick Shepherd. The error is not +ours; we found the song in the latest or posthumous edition of the +Shepherd's songs, p. 201 (Blackie, Glasgow), and we had no reason to +suspect the authenticity. We have since ascertained that a copy of the +song, having been handed to the Shepherd by the late Mr Peter Roger, of +Peebles, Hogg, with the view of directing attention to the real author, +introduced it shortly after in his <i>Noctes Bengerianæ</i>, in the +"Edinburgh Literary Journal" (vol. i. p. 258). Being included in this +periodical paper, the editor of his posthumous works had assumed that +the song was the Shepherd's own composition. So much for uncertainty as +to the authorship of our best songs!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Portions of the first and second verses of this song are +fragments of an older ditty.—<i>Note by the Author.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> The stream that flows through Glen Pean.</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> The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained +for many years of his tutor life.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith +of Clyde, and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Brunach—The Brown, viz., the poet himself.</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 Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the +Scoto-Irish kings who reigned in Dunstaffnage.</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> Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings.</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> Prince Charles Edward.</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> Invernahyle removed with his family to Edinburgh, and +became very intimate with the father of Sir Walter Scott. He seems to +have made a great impression on the future poet.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Festivals, saint-days.</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> The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and +clerk-depute of presbytery.</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> The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the +Duke of York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume +IV., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + +***** This file should be named 19525-h.htm or 19525-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/2/19525/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 IV. + The Songs of Scotland of the Past Half Century + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 11, 2006 [EBook #19525] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D. +F.S.A. SCOT. + +VOL. IV. + + +CAMPBELL + + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO THE QUEEN.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +Henry Scott Riddell. + +Lithographed for the Modern Scottish Minstrel, by Schenck & McFarlane.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND OF THE +PAST HALF CENTURY. + +WITH + +Memoirs of the Poets, + +AND + +SKETCHES AND SPECIMENS +IN ENGLISH VERSE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED +MODERN GAELIC BARDS. + +BY + +CHARLES ROGERS, LL.D., +F.S.A. SCOT. + +IN SIX VOLUMES. + +VOL IV. + +EDINBURGH: +ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE, +BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. + +MDCCCLVII. + + +EDINBURGH: +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, +PAUL'S WORK. + + + + +TO + +FRANCIS BENNOCH, ESQ., F.S.A., + +ONE OF THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED OF LIVING SCOTTISH SONG-WRITERS, +AND THE MUNIFICENT PATRON OF MEN OF LETTERS, + +THIS FOURTH VOLUME + +OF + +The Modern Scottish Minstrel + +IS DEDICATED, + +WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ESTEEM, + +BY + +HIS VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT, + +CHARLES ROGERS. + + + + +THE INFLUENCE OF BURNS + +ON + +SCOTTISH POETRY AND SONG: + +An Essay. + +BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +It is exceedingly difficult to settle the exact place of, as well as to +compute the varied influences wielded by, a great original genius. Every +such mind borrows so much from his age and from the past, as well as +communicates so much from his own native stores, that it is difficult to +determine whether he be more the creature or the creator of his period. +But, ere determining the influence exerted by Burns on Scottish song and +poetry, it is necessary first to inquire what he owed to his +predecessors in the art, as well as to the general Scottish atmosphere +of thought, feeling, scenery and manners. + +First of all, Burns felt, in common with his _forbears_ in the genealogy +of Scottish song, the inspiring influences breathing from our +mountain-land, and from the peculiar habits and customs of a "people +dwelling alone, and not reckoned among the nations." He was not born in +a district peculiarly distinguished for romantic beauty--we mean, in +comparison with some other regions of Scotland. The whole course of the +Ayr, as Currie remarks, is beautiful; and beautiful exceedingly the Brig +of Doon, especially as it now shines through the magic of the Master's +poetry. But it yields to many other parts of Scotland, some of which +Burns indeed afterwards saw, although his matured genius was not much +profited by the sight. Ayrshire--even with the peaks of Arran bounding +the view seaward--cannot vie with the scenery around Edinburgh; with +Stirling--its links and blue mountains; with "Gowrie's Carse, beloved of +Ceres, and Clydesdale to Pomona dear;" with Straths Tay and Earn, with +their two fine rivers flowing from finer lakes, through corn-fields, +woods, and rocks, to melt into each other's arms in music, near the fair +city of Perth; with the wilder and stormier courses of the Spey, the +Findhorn, and the Dee; with the romantic and song-consecrated precincts +of the Border; with the "bonnie hills o' Gallowa" and Dumfriesshire; or +with that transcendent mountain region stretching up along Lochs Linnhe, +Etive, and Leven--between the wild, torn ridges of Morven and +Appin--uniting Ben Cruachan to Ben Nevis, and including in its sweep the +lonely and magnificent Glencoe--a region unparalleled in wide Britain +for its quantity and variety of desolate grandeur, where every shape is +bold, every shape blasted, but all blasted at such different angles as +to produce endless diversity, and yet where the whole seems twisted into +a certain terrible harmony; not to speak of the glorious isles + + "Placed far amid the melancholy main," + +Iona, which, being interpreted, means the "Island of the Waves," the +rocky cradle of Scotland's Christianity; Staffa with grass growing above +the unspeakable grandeur which lurks in the cathedral-cave below, and +cows peacefully feeding over the tumultuous surge which forms the organ +of the eternal service; and Skye, with its Loch Coriskin, piercing like +a bright arrow the black breast of the shaggy hills of Cuchullin. Burns +had around him only the features of ordinary Scottish scenery, but from +these he drank in no common draught of inspiration; and how admirably +has he reproduced such simple objects as the "burn stealing under the +lang yellow broom," and the "milk-white thorn that scents the evening +gale," the "burnie wimplin' in its glen," and the + + "Rough bur-thistle spreadin' wide + Amang the bearded bear." + +These objects constituted the poetry of his own fields; they were linked +with his own joys, loves, memories, and sorrows, and these he felt +impelled to enshrine in song. It may, indeed, be doubted if his cast of +mind would have led him to sympathise with bold and savage scenery. In +proof of this, we remember that, although he often had seen the gigantic +ridges of Arran looming through the purple evening air, or with the +"morning suddenly spread" upon their summer summits, or with premature +snow tinging their autumnal tops, he never once alludes to them, so far +as we remember, either in his poetry or prose; and that although he +spent a part of his youth on the wild smuggling coast of Carrick, he has +borrowed little of his imagery from the sea--none, we think, except the +two lines in the "Vision"-- + + "I saw thee seek the sounding shore, + Delighted with the dashing roar." + +His descriptions are almost all of inland scenery. Yet, that there was a +strong sense of the sublime in his mind is manifest from the lines +succeeding the above-- + + "And when the North his fleecy store + Drove through the sky, + I saw grim Nature's visage hoar + Struck thy young eye;" + +as well as from the delight he expresses in walking beside a planting in +a windy day, and listening to the blast howling through the trees and +raving over the plain. Perhaps his mind was most alive to the sublimity +of _motion_, of agitation, of tumultuous energy, as exhibited in a +snow-storm, or in the "torrent rapture" of winds and waters, because +they seemed to sympathise with his own tempestuous passions, even as the +fierce Zanga, in the "Revenge," during a storm, exclaims--- + + "I like this rocking of the battlements. + Rage on, ye winds; burst clouds, and waters roar! + You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, + And suit the gloomy habit of my soul." + +Probably Burns felt little admiration of the calm, colossal grandeur of +mountain-scenery, where there are indeed vestiges of convulsion and +agony, but where age has softened the storm into stillness, and where +the memory of former strife and upheaving only serves to deepen the +feeling of repose--vestiges which, like the wrinkles on the stern brow +of the Corsair, + + "Speak of passion, but of passion past." + +With these records of bygone "majestic pains," on the other hand, the +genius of Milton and Wordsworth seemed made to sympathise; and the +former is never greater than standing on Niphates Mount with Satan, or +upon the "hill of Paradise the highest" with Michael, or upon the +"Specular Mount" with the Tempter and the Saviour; and the latter is +always most himself beside Skiddaw or Helvellyn. Byron professes vast +admiration for Lochnagar and the Alps; but the former is seen through +the enchanting medium of distance and childish memory; and among the +latter, his rhapsodies on Mont Blanc, and the cold "thrones of eternity" +around him, are nothing to his pictures of torrents, cataracts, +thunderstorms; in short, of all objects where unrest--the leading +feeling in _his_ bosom--constitutes the principal element in _their_ +grandeur. It is curious, by the way, how few good descriptions there +exist in poetry of views _from_ mountains. Milton has, indeed, some +incomparable ones, but all imaginary--such, at least, as no actual +mountain on earth can command; but, in other poets, we at this moment +remember no good one. They seem always looking up _to_, not down from, +mountains. Wordsworth has given us, for example, no description of the +view from Skiddaw; and there does not exist, in any Scottish poetical +author, a first-rate picture of the view either from Ben Lomond, +Schehallion, Ben Cruachan, or Ben Nevis. + +After all, Burns was more influenced by some other characteristics of +Scotland than he was by its scenery. There was, first, its romantic +history. _That_ had not then been separated, as it has since been, from +the mists of fable, but lay exactly in that twilight point of view best +adapted for arousing the imagination. To the eye of Burns, as it glared +back into the past, the history of his country seemed intensely +poetical--including the line of early kings who pass over the stage of +Boece' and Buchanan's story as their brethren over the magic glass of +Macbeth's witches--equally fantastic and equally false--the dark +tragedy of that terrible thane of Glammis and Cawdor--the deeds of +Wallace and Bruce--the battle of Flodden--and the sad fate of Queen +Mary; and from most of these themes he drew an inspiration which could +scarcely have been conceived to reside even in them. On Wallace, Bruce, +and Queen Mary, his mind seems to have brooded with peculiar +intensity--on the two former, because they were patriots; and on the +latter, because she was a beautiful woman; and his allusions to them +rank with the finest parts in his or any poetry. He seemed especially +adapted to be the poet-laureate of Wallace--a modern edition, somewhat +improved, of the broad, brawny, ragged bard who actually, it is +probable, attended in the train of Scotland's patriot hero, and whose +constant occupation it was to change the gold of his achievements into +the silver of song. Scottish manners, too, as well as history, exerted a +powerful influence on Scotland's peasant-poet. They were then far more +peculiar than now, and had only been faintly or partially represented by +previous poets. Thus, the christening of the _wean_, with all its +ceremony and all its mirth--Hallowe'en, with its "rude awe and +laughter"--the "Rockin'"--the "Brooze"--the Bridal--and a hundred other +intensely Scottish and very old customs, were all ripe and ready for the +poet, and many of them he has treated, accordingly, with consummate +felicity and genius. It seems almost as if the _final cause_ of their +long-continued existence were connected with the appearance, in due +time, of one who was to extract their finest essence, and to embalm them +for ever in his own form of ideal representation. + +Burns, too, doubtless derived much from previous poets. This is a common +case, as we have before hinted, with even the most original. Had not +Shakspeare and Milton been "celestial thieves," their writings would +have been far less rich and brilliant than they are; although, had they +not possessed true originality, they would not have taken their present +lofty position in the world of letters. So, to say that Burns was much +indebted to his predecessors, and that he often imitated Ramsay and +Fergusson, and borrowed liberally from the old ballads, is by no means +to derogate from his genius. If he took, he gave with interest. The most +commonplace songs, after they had, as he said, "got a brushing" from his +hands, assumed a totally different aspect. Each ballad was merely a +piece of canvas, on which he inscribed his inimitable paintings. +Sometimes even by a single word he proclaimed the presence of the +master-poet, and by a single stroke exalted a daub into a picture. His +imitations of Ramsay and Fergusson far surpass the originals, and remind +you of Landseer's dogs, which seem better than the models from which he +drew. When a king accepts a fashion from a subject, he glorifies it, and +renders it the rage. It was in this royal style that Burns treated the +inferior writers who had gone before him; and although he highly admired +and warmly praised them, he must have felt a secret sense of his own +vast superiority. + +We come now shortly to speak of the influence he has exerted on Scottish +poetry. This was manifold. In the first place, a number were encouraged +by his success to collect and publish their poems, although few of them +possessed much merit; and he complained that some were a wretched +"spawn" of mediocrity, which the sunshine of his fame had warmed and +brought forth prematurely. Lapraik, for instance, was induced by the +praise of Burns to print an edition of his poems, which turned out a +total failure. There was only one good piece in it all, and _that_ was +pilfered from an old magazine. Secondly, Burns exerted an inspiring +influence on some men of real genius, who, we verily believe, would, but +for Burns, have never written, or, at least, written so well--such as +Alexander Wilson, Tannahill, Macneil, Hogg, and the numerous members of +the "Whistle-Binkie" school. In all these writers we trace the influence +of the large "lingering star" of the genius of Burns. "Wattie and Meg," +by Wilson, when it first appeared anonymously, was attributed to Burns. +Tannahill is, in much of his poetry, an echo of Burns, although in +song-writing he is a real original. Macneil was roused by Burns' praises +of whisky to give a _per contra_, in his "Scotland's Scaith; or, the +History of Will and Jean." And although the most of Hogg's poetry is +entirely original, we find the influence of Burns distinctly marked in +some of his songs--such as the "Kye come Hame." + +But there is a wider and more important light in which to regard the +influence of our great national Bard. He first fully revealed the +interest and the beauty which lie in the simpler forms of Scottish +scenery, he darted light upon the peculiarities of Scottish manners, and +he opened the warm heart of his native land. Scotland, previous to +Burns' poetry, was a spring shut up and a fountain sealed. + + "She lay like some unkenned-of isle + Ayont New Holland." + +The glories of her lakes, her glens, her streams, her mountains, the +hardy courage, the burning patriotism, the trusty attachments, the +loves, the games, the superstitions, and the devotion of her +inhabitants, were all unknown and unsuspected as themes for song till +Burns took them up, and less added glory than shewed the glory that was +in them, and shewed also that they opened up a field nearly +inexhaustible. Writers of a very high order were thus attracted to +Scotland, not merely as their native country, but as a theme for poetry; +and, while disdaining to imitate Burns' poetry slavishly, and some of +them not writing in verse at all, they found in Scottish subjects ample +scope for the exercise of their genius; and in some measure to his +influence we may attribute the fictions of Mrs Hamilton and Miss +Ferrier, Scott's poems and novels, Galt's, Lockhart's, Wilson's, +Delta's, and Aird's tales and poetry, and much of the poetry of +Campbell, who, although he never writes in Scotch, has embalmed, in his +"Lochiel's Warning," "Glenara," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," some +interesting subjects connected with Scotland, and has, in "Gertrude of +Wyoming," and in the "Pilgrim of Glencoe," made striking allusions to +Scottish scenery. That the progress of civilisation, apart from Burns, +would have ultimately directed the attention of cultivated men to a +country so peculiar and poetical as Scotland cannot be doubted; but the +rise of Burns hastened the result, as being itself a main element in +propelling civilisation and diffusing genuine taste. His dazzling +success, too, excited emulation in the breasts of our men of genius, as +well as tended to exalt in their eyes a country which had produced such +a stalwart and gifted son. We may, indeed, apply to the feeling of pride +which animates Scotchmen, and particularly Scotchmen in other lands, at +the thought of Burns being their countryman, the famous lines of +Dryden-- + + "Men met each other with erected look, + The steps were higher that they took; + Each to congratulate his friends made haste, + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd." + +The poor man, says Wilson, as he speaks of Burns, always holds up his +head and regards you with an elated look. Scotland has become more +venerable, more beautiful, more glorious in the eyes of her children, +and a fitter theme for poetry, since the feet of Burns rested on her +fields, and since his ardent eyes glowed with enthusiasm as he saw her +scenery, and as he sung her praise; while to many in foreign parts she +is chiefly interesting as being (what a portion of her has long been +called) the Land of Burns. + +The real successors of Burns, it is thus manifest, were not Tannahill or +Macneil, but Sir Walter Scott, Campbell, Aird, Delta, Galt, Allan +Cunningham, and Professor Wilson. To all of these, Burns, along with +Nature, united in teaching the lessons of simplicity, of brawny +strength, of clear common sense, and of the propriety of staying at home +instead of gadding abroad in search of inspiration. All of these have +been, like Burns, more or less intensely Scottish in their subjects and +in their spirit. + +That Burns' errors as a man have exerted a pernicious influence on many +since, is, we fear, undeniable. He had been taught, by the lives of the +"wits," to consider aberration, eccentricity, and "devil-may-careism" as +prime badges of genius, and he proceeded accordingly to astonish the +natives, many of whom, in their turn, set themselves to copy his faults. +But when we subtract some half-dozen pieces, either coarse in language +or equivocal in purpose, the influence of his poetry may be considered +good. (We of course say nothing here of the volume called the "Merry +Muses," still extant to disgrace his memory.) It is doubtful if his +"Willie brew'd a peck o' Maut" ever made a drunkard, but it is certain +that his "Cottar's Saturday Night" has converted sinners, edified the +godly, and made some erect family altars. It has been worth a thousand +homilies. And, taking his songs as a whole, they have done much to stir +the flames of pure love, of patriotism, of genuine sentiment, and of a +taste for the beauties of nature. And it is remarkable that all his +followers and imitators have, almost without exception, avoided his +faults while emulating his beauties; and there is not a sentence in +Scott, or Campbell, or Aird, or Delta, and not many in Wilson or Galt, +that can be charged with indelicacy, or even coarseness. So that, on the +whole, we may assert that, whatever evil he did by the example of his +life, he has done very little--but, on the contrary, much good, both +artistically and morally, by the influence of his poetry. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL, 1 + The wild glen sae green, 49 + Scotia's thistle, 50 + The land of gallant hearts, 51 + The yellow locks o' Charlie, 52 + We 'll meet yet again, 53 + Our ain native land, 54 + The Grecian war-song, 56 + Flora's lament, 57 + When the glen all is still, 58 + Scotland yet, 58 + The minstrel's grave, 60 + My own land and loved one, 61 + The bower of the wild, 62 + The crook and plaid, 63 + The minstrel's bower, 65 + When the star of the morning, 66 + Though all fair was that bosom, 67 + Would that I were where wild-woods wave, 68 + O tell me what sound, 69 + Our Mary, 70 + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS, 73 + Sweet bard of Ettrick's Glen, 75 + Young Jamie, 76 + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, 77 + Heard ye the bagpipe? 78 + Bruce's address, 79 + Removed from vain fashion, 80 + When shall we meet again? 81 + +JAMES KING, 83 + The lake is at rest, 85 + Life 's like the dew, 86 + +ISOBEL PAGAN, 88 + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 89 + +JOHN MITCHELL, 90 + Beauty, 91 + To the evening star, 92 + O waft me to the fairy clime, 92 + The love-sick maid, 93 + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON, 95 + The maid who wove, 96 + A sigh and a smile, 97 + +JOHN GOLDIE, 98 + And can thy bosom, 100 + Sweet 's the dew, 101 + +ROBERT POLLOK, 103 + The African maid, 105 + +J. C. DENOVAN, 106 + Oh! Dermot, dear loved one, 107 + +JOHN IMLAH, 108 + Kathleen, 109 + Hielan' heather, 110 + Farewell to Scotland, 111 + The rose of Seaton Vale, 112 + Katherine and Donald, 113 + Guid nicht, and joy be wi' you a', 114 + The gathering, 115 + Mary, 116 + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, 117 + +JOHN TWEEDIE, 120 + Saw ye my Annie? 121 + +THOMAS ATKINSON, 122 + Mary Shearer, 124 + +WILLIAM GARDINER, 126 + Oh! Scotland's hills for me, 127 + +ROBERT HOGG, 129 + Queen of fairy's song, 131 + When autumn comes, 132 + Bonnie Peggie, O! 133 + A wish burst, 133 + I love the merry moonlight, 135 + Oh, what are the chains of love made of? 136 + +JOHN WRIGHT, 137 + An autumnal cloud, 139 + The maiden fair, 140 + The old blighted thorn, 141 + The wrecked mariner, 141 + +JOSEPH GRANT, 143 + The blackbird's hymn is sweet, 145 + Love's adieu, 146 + +DUGALD MOORE, 147 + Rise, my love, 149 + Julia, 150 + Lucy's grave, 152 + The forgotten brave, 153 + The first ship, 154 + Weep not, 155 + To the Clyde, 156 + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON, 158 + The Araby maid, 160 + The maiden's vow, 160 + I love the sea, 162 + +GEORGE ALLAN, 163 + Is your war-pipe asleep? 166 + I will think of thee yet, 167 + Lassie, dear lassie, 168 + When I look far down on the valley below me, 169 + I will wake my harp when the shades of even, 170 + +THOMAS BRYDSON, 172 + All lovely and bright, 173 + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY, 174 + She died in beauty, 177 + The Scottish blue bells, 177 + +ROBERT MILLER, 179 + Where are they? 179 + Lay of the hopeless, 180 + +ALEXANDER HUME, 182 + My wee, wee wife, 187 + O, poverty! 187 + Nanny, 188 + My Bessie, 189 + Menie Hay, 190 + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, 192 + Oh! years hae come, 193 + My mountain hame, 194 + +THOMAS SMIBERT, 195 + The Scottish widow's lament, 197 + The hero of St. John D'Acre, 199 + Oh! bonnie are the howes, 200 + Oh! say na you maun gang awa, 201 + +JOHN BETHUNE, 203 + Withered flowers, 207 + A spring song, 208 + +ALLAN STEWART, 211 + The sea boy, 212 + Menie Lorn, 213 + The young soldier, 214 + The land I love, 215 + +ROBERT L. MALONE, 216 + The thistle of Scotland, 217 + Hame is aye hamely, 218 + +PETER STILL, 220 + Jeanie's lament, 221 + Ye needna be courtin' at me, 222 + The bucket for me, 223 + +ROBERT NICOLL, 225 + Orde Braes, 228 + The Muir o' Gorse and Broom, 229 + The bonnie Hieland hills, 230 + The bonnie rowan bush, 231 + Bonnie Bessie Lee, 233 + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING, 235 + The wild rose blooms, 236 + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE, 237 + The Wells o' Wearie, 239 + +ALEXANDER LAING, 241 + Ae happy hour, 243 + Lass gin ye wad lo'e me, 244 + Lass of Logie, 245 + My ain wife, 246 + The maid o' Montrose, 247 + Jean of Aberdeen, 249 + The hopeless exile, 250 + Glen-na-H'Albyn, 250 + +ALEXANDER CARLILE, 252 + Wha 's at the window, 253 + My brothers are the stately trees, 254 + The Vale of Killean, 255 + +JOHN NEVAY, 257 + The emigrant's love-letter, 259 + +THOMAS LYLE, 261 + Kelvin Grove, 264 + The trysting hour, 265 + Harvest song, 266 + +JAMES HOME, 267 + Mary Steel, 268 + Oh, hast thou forgotten? 269 + The maid of my heart, 270 + Song of the emigrant, 271 + This lassie o' mine, 272 + +JAMES TELFER, 273 + Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? 273 + I maun gae over the sea, 275 + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY. + + PAGE + +EVAN MACLACHLAN, 279 + A melody of love, 281 + The mavis of the clan, 282 + +JOHN BROWN, 286 + The sisters of Dunolly, 287 + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D., 289 + Luineag--a love carol, 290 + +ANGUS FLETCHER, 292 + The Clachan of Glendaruel, 292 + The lassie of the glen, 294 + + * * * * * + +GLOSSARY, 295 + + + + +THE + +MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL. + + + + +HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL. + + +Henry Scott Riddell, one of the most powerful and pleasing of the living +national song-writers, was born on the 23d September 1798, at Sorbie, in +the Vale of Ewes--a valley remarkable for its pastoral beauty, lying in +the south-east of Dumfriesshire. His father was a shepherd, well +acquainted with the duties of his profession, and a man of strong though +uneducated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr +Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become +able to traverse both _burn_ and _brae_, hill and glen, I frequently +returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity. +We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms +'_an out-bye herding_,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called +Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this +remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors, +ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter +Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly.... +Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was +one whom I have good reason to remember--the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I +forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become +older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of +heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and +pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men +naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise +few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of +recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural +roof--the shepherd's _bien_ and happy home. This was about the time when +Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the +circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in +his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read +them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these +meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to +make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore +the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to +deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and +self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own +attractions, and can subsist on its own resources. + +"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border +ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and +careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung +twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his +family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk, +and there for one year occupied a farm belonging to Thomas Beattie, Esq. +of Muckledale, and who, when my father was in Ewes, had been his +friend. My employment here was, along with a younger brother, to tend +the cows. In the winter season we entered the Corrie school, but had +only attended a short while when we both took fever, and our attendance +was not resumed. At Langshawburn, my father for several winters hired a +person into his house, who taught his family and that of a neighbouring +shepherd. In consequence of our distance from any place of regular +education, I had also been boarded at several schools--at Devington in +Eskdale, Roberton on Borthwick Water, and Newmill on the Teviot, at each +of which, however, I only remained a short time, making, I suppose, such +progress as do other boys who love the football better than the +spelling-book. + +"At the Whitsunday term my father relinquished his farm, and returned to +his former employment in the Forest of Ettrick, under Mr Scott of +Deloraine, to whom he had been a shepherd in his younger days. With this +family, indeed, and that of Mr Borthwick, then of Sorbie, and late of +Hopesrigg, all his years since he could wear the plaid were passed, with +the exception of the one just mentioned. It was at Deloraine that I +commenced the shepherd's life in good earnest. Through the friendly +partiality of our employer, I was made principal shepherd at an age +considerably younger than it is usual for most others to be intrusted +with so extensive a _hirsel_[1] as was committed to my care. I had by +this time, however, served what might be regarded as a regular +apprenticeship to the employment, which almost all sons of shepherds do, +whether they adhere to herding sheep in after-life or not. Seasons and +emergencies not seldom occur when the aid which the little boy can lend +often proves not much less availing than that of the grown-up man. +Education in this line consequently commences early. A knowledge of the +habits, together with the proper treatment of sheep, and therefore of +pastoral affairs in general, 'grows with the growth' of the individual, +and becomes, as it were, a portion of his nature. I had thus assisted my +father more or less all along; and when a little older, though still a +mere boy, I went for a year to a friend at Glencotha, in Holmswater, as +assistant shepherd or lamb-herd. Another year in the same capacity I was +with a shepherd in Wester Buccleuch. It was at Glencotha that I first +made a sustained attempt to compose in rhyme. When in Wester Buccleuch +my life was much more lonely, and became more tinged with thoughts and +feelings of a romantic cast. Owing to the nature of the stock kept on +the farm, it was my destiny day after day to be out among the mountains +during the whole summer season from early morn till the fall of even. +But the long summer days, whether clear or cloudy, never seemed long to +me--I never wearied among the wilds. My flocks being _hirsled_, as it is +expressed, required vigilance: but, if this was judiciously maintained, +the task was for the most part an easy and pleasant one. I know not if +it be worth while to mention that the hills and glens on which my charge +pastured at this period formed a portion of what in ancient times was +termed the Forest of Rankleburn. The names of places in the district, +though there were no other more intelligible traditions, might serve to +shew that it is a range of country to which both kings and nobles had +resorted. If from morning to night I was away far from the homes of +living men, I was not so in regard to those of the dead. Where a lesser +stream from the wild uplands comes down and meets the Rankleburn, a +church or chapel once stood, surrounded, like most other consecrated +places of the kind, by a burial-ground. There tradition says that five +dukes, some say kings, lie buried under a marble stone. I had heard that +Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, had, a number of years previously, made a +pilgrimage to this place, for the purpose of discovering the sepulchres +of the great and nearly forgotten dead, but without success. This, +however, tended, in my estimation, to confirm the truth of the +tradition; and having enough of time and opportunity, I made many a +toilsome effort of a similar nature, with the same result. With hills +around, wild and rarely trodden, and the ceaseless yet ever-varying +tinkling of its streams, together with the mysterious echoes which the +least stir seemed to awaken, the place was not only lonely, but also +creative of strange apprehensions, even in the hours of open day. It is +strange that the heart will fear the dead, which, perhaps, never feared +the living. Though I could muster and maintain courage to dig +perseveringly among the dust of the long-departed when the sun shone in +the sky, yet when the shadow of night was coming, or had come down upon +the earth, the scene was sacredly secure from all inroad on my part: and +to make the matter sufficiently intelligible, I may further mention +that, some years afterwards, when I took a fancy one evening to travel +eight miles to meet some friends in a shepherd's lone muirland dwelling, +I made the way somewhat longer for the sake of evading the impressive +loneliness of this locality. I had no belief that I should meet accusing +spirits of the dead; but I disliked to be troubled in waging war with +those _eery_ feelings which are the offspring of superstitious +associations. + +"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could get a book which +was not already threadbare. I had a few chisels, and files, and other +tools, with which I took pleasure in constructing, of wood or bone, +pieces of mechanism; and I kept a diary in which I wrote many minute and +trivial matters, as well, no doubt as I then thought, many a sage +observation. In this, likewise, I wrote rude rhymes on local +occurrences. But I have anticipated a little. On returning home from +Glencotha, and two years before I went to Buccleuch, a younger brother +and I had still another round at herding cattle, which pastured in a +park near by my father's cottage. Our part was to protect a meadow which +formed a portion of it; and the task being easy to protect that for +which the cattle did not much care, nor yet could skaithe greatly though +they should trespass upon it, we were far too idle not to enter upon and +prosecute many a wayward and unprofitable ploy. Our predilections for +taming wild birds--the wilder by nature the better--seemed boundless; +and our family of hawks, and owls, and ravens was too large not to cost +us much toil, anxiety, and even sorrow. We fished in the Ettrick and the +lesser streams. These last suited our way of it best, since we generally +fished with staves and plough-spades--thus far, at least, honourably +giving the objects of our pursuit a fair chance of escape. When the hay +had been won, we went to Ettrick school, at which we continued +throughout the winter, travelling to and from it daily, though it lay at +the distance of five miles. This we, in good weather, accomplished +conveniently enough; but it proved occasionally a serious and toilsome +task through wind and rain, or keen frost and deep snow, when winter +days and the mountain blasts came on. + +"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the +Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an _out-bye herding_, under the same +employer. In the winter season either I or some other of the family +assisted him; but so often as the weather was fine, we went to a school +instituted by a farmer in the neighbourhood for behoof of his own +family. When by and by I went to herd the _hirsel_ which my father +formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and +was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another _hirsel_ +lying contiguous, and which my elder brother herded, was for the summer +season of the year added to mine, so that this already large was made +larger; but exempted as I was from attending to aught else but my flock, +I had pleasant days, for I loved the wilds among which it had become +alike my destiny and duty to walk at will, and 'view the sheep thrive +bonnie.' The hills of Ettrick are generally wild and green, and those of +them on which I daily wandered, musing much and writing often, were as +high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality +arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the +most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy +thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him. +Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of +bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the +ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On +the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the +majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul, +that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so +vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always +enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake-- + + "'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain + Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign, + In numbers fearless all as unconfined, + And wild as wailings of the desert wind.' + +"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains, +and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results +of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog--his constant +companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would +little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to +pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the +loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the +while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I +came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at +any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow +these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an +epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:-- + + "'My early years were pass'd far on + The hills of Ettrick wild and lone; + Through summer sheen and winter shade + Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd. + In bold enthusiastic glee + I sung rude strains of minstrelsy, + Which mingling with died o'er the dale, + Unheeded as the plover's wail. + Oft where the waving rushes shed + A shelter frail around my head, + Weening, though not through hopes of fame, + To fix on these more lasting claim, + I'd there secure in rustic scroll + The wayward fancies of the soul. + Even where yon lofty rocks arise, + Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies, + Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath + The colder cone of drifted wreath, + I noted them afar from ken, + Till ink would freeze within the pen; + So deep the spell which bound the heart + Unto the bard's undying art-- + So rapt the charm that still beguiled + The minstrel of the mountains wild.' + +"The ancients had a maxim--'Revenge is sweet.' In rural, as well as in +other life, there are things said and done which are more or less +ungenerous. These, if at any time they came my way, I repelled as best I +might. But I did not stop here; whether such matters, when occurring, +might concern myself as an individual or not, I took it upon me, as if I +had been a 'learned judge,' to write satires upon such persons as I knew +or conceived to have spoken or acted in aught contrary to good manners. +These squibs were written through the impulse of offended feeling, or +the stirrings of that injudicious spirit which sometimes prompts a man +to exercise a power merely because he possesses it. They were still, +after all, only as things of private experiment, and not intended ever +to go forth to the world--though it happened otherwise. I usually +carried a lot of these writings in my hat, and by and by, unlike most +other young authors, I got a publisher unsought for. This was the wind, +which, on a wild day, swept my hat from my head, and tattering its +contents asunder from their fold, sent them away over hill and dale like +a flock of wild fowl. I recovered some where they had halted in bieldy +places; others of them went further, and fell into other hands, and +particularly into those of a neighbour, who, a short while previously, +had played an unmanly part relating to a sheep and the march which ran +between us. He found his unworthy proceeding boldly discussed, in an +epistle which, I daresay, no other carrier would ever have conveyed to +him but the unblushing mountain blast. He complained to others, whom he +found more or less involved in his own predicament, and the thing went +disagreeably abroad. My master, through good taste and feeling, was +vexed, as I understood, that I should have done anything that gave +ground for accusation, though he did not mention the subject to myself; +but my father, some days after the mischief had commenced, came to me +upon the hill, and not in very good humour, disapproved of my imprudent +conduct. As for the consequences of this untoward event, it proved the +mean of revealing what I had hitherto concealed--procuring for me a sort +of local popularity little to be envied. I made the best improvement of +it, as I then thought, that lay in my power--by writing a satire upon +myself. + +"I continued shepherd at Deloraine two years, and then went in the same +capacity to the late Mr Knox of Todrigg; and if at the former place I +had been well and happy, here I was still more so. His son William, the +poet of 'The Lonely Hearth,' paid me much friendly attention. He +commended my verses, and augured my success as one of the song-writers +of my native land. In those days, I did not write with the most remote +view to publication. My aim did not extend beyond the gratification of +hearing my mountain strains sung by lad or lass, as time and place might +favour. And when, in the dewy gloaming of a summer eve, returning home +from the hill, and 'the kye were in the loan,' I did hear this much, I +thought, no doubt, that + + "'The swell and fall of these wild tones + Were worth the pomp of a thousand thrones.' + +"William Crozier, author of 'The Cottage Muse,' was also my neighbour +and friend at Todrigg, during the summer part of the year; and even at +this hour I feel delight in recalling to memory the happy harmony of +thought and feeling that blended with and enhanced the genial sunshine +of those departed days. I rejoice to dwell upon those remote and +rarely-trodden pastoral solitudes, among which my lot in the early years +of life was so continually cast; few may well conceive how distinctly I +can recall them. Memory, which seems often to constitute the mind +itself, more, perhaps, than any other faculty, can set them so brightly +before me, as if they were painted on a dark midnight sky with brushes +dipped in the essence of living light. To appreciate thoroughly the +grandeur of the mountain solitudes, it is necessary to have dwelt among +the scenes, and to have looked upon them at every season of the +ever-changing year. They are fresh with solemn beauty, when bathed in +the deep dews of a summer morning; or in autumn, if you have attained to +the border of the mystery which has overhung your path, and therefore to +a station high enough for the survey, all that meets the eye shall be as +a dream of poetry itself. The deep folds of white vapour fill up glen +and hollow, till the summit of the mountains, near and far away--far as +sight itself can penetrate--are only seen tinged with the early radiance +of the sun, the whole so combined as to appear a limitless plain of +variegated marble, peaceful as heaven, and solemnly serene as eternity. +What Winter writes with his frozen finger I need not state. When the +venerable old man, Gladstanes, perished among the stormy blasts of these +wilds, I was one of about threescore of men who for three days traversed +them in search of the dead. Then was the scenery of the mountains +impressive, much beyond what can well be spoken. The bridal that loses +the bride through some wayward freak of the fair may be sad enough; so +also the train, in its dark array, that conveys the familiar friend to +the chamber where the light of nature cannot come. But in this latter +case, the hearts that still beat, necessarily know that their part is +resignation, and suspense and anxiety mingle not in the mood of the +living, as it relates to the dead; but otherwise is it with those who +seem already constituting the funeral train of one who should have +been--yet who is not there to be buried. + + "'The feeling is nameless that makes us unglad, + And a strange, wild dismayment it brings; + Which yet hath no match in the solemn and sad + Desolation of men and of things. + + * * * * * + + "'The hill-foxes howl'd round the wanderer's way, + When his aim and his pathway were lost; + And effort has then oft too much of dismay + To pay well the toil it may cost. + If fate has its privilege, death has its power, + And is fearful where'er it may fall, + But worse it may seem 'mong the blasts of the moor, + Where all that approaches portends to devour, + Nor fixes till first it appal. + + "'No mercy obtains in the tempests that rave, + By the sky-frozen elements fed, + And there comes no hand that is willing to save, + And soothe, till the spirit be fled; + But the storms round the thrones of the wilderness break + O'er the frail in the solitude cast, + And howl in their strength and impatience to take + Their course to commix with the roar of the lake + Where it flings forth its foam on the blast. + + "'Lo! 'neath where the heath hangs so dark o'er yon peak, + Another of Adam lay lone, + Where the bield could not shelter the weary and weak, + By the strife of the tempest o'erthrown. + No raven had fed, and the hill-fox had fled, + If there he had yet come abroad, + And the stillness reign'd deep o'er his cold moorland bed, + Which came down in the power of the sleep of the dead + When the spirit return'd to its God.' + + * * * * * + +These are a few out of many more lines written on this subject, which at +the time was so deeply interesting to mind and heart." + +Mr Riddell here states that his poetical style of composition about this +period underwent a considerable change. He laid aside his wayward wit +for serious sentiment, an improvement which he ascribes to his +admiration of the elegant strains of his friend, young Knox. + +"My fortune in life," he proceeds, "had not placed me within the reach +of a library, and I had read almost none; and although I had attempted +to write, I merely followed the course which instinct pointed out. Need +I state further, that if in these days I employed my mind and pen among +the mountains as much as possible, my thoughts also often continued to +pursue the same practice, even when among others, by the 'farmer's +ingle.' I retired to rest when others retired, but if not outworn by +matters of extra toil, the ardour of thought, through love of the poet's +undying art, would, night after night for many hours, debar the inroads +of sleep. The number of schools which I have particularised as having +attended may occasion some surprise at the deficiency of my scholarship. +For this, various reasons are assignable, all of which, however, hinge +upon these two formidable obstacles--the inconveniency of local +position, and the thoughtless inattention of youth. In remote country +places, long and rough ways, conjoined not unfrequently with wild +weather, require that children, before they can enter school, be pretty +well grown up; consequently, they quit it the sooner. They are often +useful at home in the summer season, or circumstances may destine them +to hire away. Among these inconveniences, one serious drawback is, that +the little education they do get is rarely obtained continuously, and +regular progress is interrupted. Much of what has been gained is lost +during the intervals of non-attendance, and every new return to the book +is little else than a new beginning. So was it with me. At the time when +my father hired a teacher into his house, it was for what is termed the +winter quarter, and I was then somewhat too young to be tied down to the +regular routine of school discipline; and if older when boarded away, +the other obstruction to salutary progress began to operate grievously +against me. I acquired bit by bit the common education--reading, +writing, and arithmetic. So far as I remember, grammar was not much +taught at any of these schools, and the spelling of words was very +nearly as little attended to as the meaning which they are appointed to +convey was explained or sought after. + +"But the non-understanding of words is less to be marvelled at than that +a man should not understand himself. At this hour I cannot conceive how +I should have been so recklessly careless about learning and books when +at school, and yet so soon after leaving it seriously inclined towards +them. I see little else for it than to suppose that boys who are bred +where they have no companions are prone to make the most of +companionship when once attained to. And then, in regard to books, as of +these I rarely got more than what might serve as a whet to the appetite, +I might have the desire of those whose longings after what they would +obtain are increased by the difficulties which interpose between them +and the possession. One book which in school I sometimes got a glance +of, I would have given anything to possess: this was a small volume +entitled, 'The Three Hundred Animals.' + +"I cannot forbear mentioning that, when at Deloraine, I was greatly +advantaged by an old woman, called Mary Hogg, whose cottage stood on an +isolated corner of the lands on which my flock pastured. Her husband had +been a shepherd, who, many years previous to this period, perished in a +snow-storm. In her youth she had opportunities of reading history, and +other literature, and she did not only remember well what she had read, +but could give a distinct and interesting account of it. In going my +wonted rounds, few days there were on which I did not call and listen to +her intelligent conversation. She was a singularly good woman--a sincere +Christian; and the books which she lent me were generally of a religious +kind, such as the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the 'Holy War;' but here I +also discovered a romance, the first which I had ever seen. It was +printed in the Gothic letter, and entitled 'Prissimus, the Renowned +Prince of Bohemia.' Particular scenes and characters in 'Ivanhoe' +reminded me strikingly of those which I had formerly met with in this +old book of black print. And I must mention that few books interested me +more than 'Bailey's Dictionary.' Day after day I bore it to the +mountains, and I have an impression that it was a more comprehensive +edition of the work than I have ever since been able to meet with. + +"At Todrigg my reading was extended; and having begun more correctly to +appreciate what I did read, the intention which I had sometimes +entertained gathered strength: this was to make an effort to obtain a +regular education. The consideration of the inadequacy of my means had +hitherto bridled my ambition; but having herded as a regular shepherd +nearly three years, during which I had no occasion to spend much of my +income, my prospects behoved to be a little more favourable. It was in +this year that the severest trial which had yet crossed my path had to +be sustained. The death of my father overthrew my happier mood; at the +same time, instead of subduing my secret aim, the event rather +strengthened my determination. My portion of my father's worldly effects +added something considerable to my own gainings; and, resigning my +situation, I bade farewell to the crook and plaid. I went to Biggar, in +Clydesdale, where I knew the schoolmaster was an approved classical +scholar. Besides, my Glencotha reminiscences tended to render me partial +to this part of the world, and in the village I had friends with whom I +could suitably reside. The better to insure attention to what I was +undertaking, I judged it best to attend school during the usual hours. A +learner was already there as old in years, and nearly as stout in form, +as myself, so that I escaped from the wonderment which usually attaches +to singularity much more comfortably than I anticipated. There were also +two others in the school, who had formerly gone a considerable way in +the path of classic lore, and had turned aside, but who, now repenting +of their apostasy, returned to their former faith. These were likewise +well grown up, and I may state that they are now both eminent as +scholars and public men. The individual first mentioned and I sat in the +master's desk, which he rarely, if ever, occupied himself; and although +we were diligent upon the whole, yet occasionally our industry and +conduct as learners were far from deserving approbation. To me the +confinement was frequently irksome and oppressive, especially when the +days were bright with the beauty of sunshine. There were ways, woods, +and even wilds, not far apart from the village, which seemed eternally +wooing the step to retirement, and the mind to solitary contemplation. +Some verses written in this school have been preserved, which will +convey an idea of the cast of feeling which produced them:-- + + "Discontented and uncheery, + Of this noise and learning weary, + Half my mind, to madness driven, + Woos the lore by nature given; + 'Mong fair fields and flowing fountains, + Lonely glens and lofty mountains, + Charm'd with nature's wildest grandeur, + Lately wont was I to wander, + Wheresoever fancy led me, + Came no barrier to impede me; + Still from early morn till even, + In the light of earth and heaven, + Musing on whatever graces, + Livelier scenes or lonelier places, + Till a nameless pleasure found me + Living, like a dream, around me,-- + How, then, may I be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented! + + "'Still, oh! still 'twere lovelier rather + To be roaming through the heather; + And where flow'd the stream so glassy, + 'Mong its flowers and margins mossy, + Where the flocks at noon their path on + Came to feed by birk and hawthorn; + Or upon the mountain lofty, + Seated where the wind blew softly, + With my faithful friend beside me, + And my plaid from sun to hide me, + And the volume oped before me, + I would trace the minstrel's story, + Or mine own wild harp awaken, + 'Mid the deep green glens of braken, + Free and fearlessly revealing + All the soul of native feeling. + + "''Stead of that eternal humming, + To the ear for ever coming-- + Humming of these thoughtless beings, + In their restless pranks and pleaings; + And the sore-provoked preceptor + Roaring, "Silence!"--O'er each quarter + Silence comes, as o'er the valley, + Where all rioted so gaily, + When the sudden bursting thunder + Overpowers with awe and wonder-- + Till again begins the fuss-- + 'Master, Jock's aye nippin' us!' + I could hear the fountains flowing, + Where the light hill-breeze was blowing, + And the wild-wing'd plover wailing, + Round the brow of heaven sailing; + Bleating flocks and skylarks singing, + Echo still to echo ringing-- + Sounds still, still so wont to waken + That no note of them is taken, + Yet which seem to lend assistance + To the blessing of existence. + + "'Who shall trow thee wise or witty, + Lore of "the Eternal City," + Or derive delight and pleasure + From the blood-stain'd deeds of Caesar, + Thus bewildering his senses + 'Mong these cases, moods, and tenses? + Still the wrong-placed words arranging, + Ever in their finals changing; + Out and in with hic and hockings, + Like a loom for working stockings. + Latin lords and Grecian heroes-- + Oh, ye gods, in mercy spare us! + How may mortals be contented, + Thus confined and thus tormented!' + +"My teacher, the late Richard Scott, was an accurate classical scholar, +which perhaps accounts for his being, unlike some others of his +profession, free from pedantry. He was kind-hearted and somewhat +disposed to indolence, loving more to converse with one of my years than +to instruct him in languages. He had seen a good deal of the world and +its ways, and I learned much from him besides Greek and Latin. We were +great friends and companions, and rarely separate when both of us were +unengaged otherwise. + +"I bore aloof from making many acquaintances; yet, ere long, I became +pretty extensively acquainted with the people of the place. It went +abroad that I was a bard from the mountains, and the rumour affixed to +me a popularity which I did not enjoy. A party of young men in the +village had prepared themselves to act 'the Douglas Tragedy,' and wished +a song, which was to be sung between this and the farce. The air was of +their own fixing, and which, in itself, was wild and beautiful; but, +unfortunately, like many others of our national airs possessed of these +qualities, it was of a measure such as rendered it difficult to write +words for. Since precluded from introducing poetic sentiment, I +substituted a dramatic plot, and being well sung by alternate voices, +the song was well received, and so my fame was enhanced. + +"It was about this time that I wrote 'The Crook and Plaid'--not by +request, but with the intention of supplanting a song, I think of +English origin, called 'The Plough-boy,' and of a somewhat questionable +character. 'The Crook and Plaid' accomplished the end intended, and soon +became popular throughout the land. So soon as I got a glimpse of the +Roman language, I began to make satisfactory progress in its +acquisition. But I daily wrote more or less in my old way--now also +embracing in my attempts prose as well as verse. I wrote a Border +Romance. This was more strongly than correctly expressed. Hogg, who took +the trouble of reading it, gave me his opinion, by saying that there +were more rawness and more genius in it than in any work he had seen. +It, sometime afterwards, had also the honour of being read--for I never +offered it for publication--by one who felt much interest in the +characters and plot--Professor Wilson's lady--who, alas! went too early +to where he himself also now is; lost, though not to fond recollection, +yet to love and life below. I contributed some papers to the _Clydesdale +Magazine_, and I sent a sort of poetic tale to the editor, telling him +to do with it whatever he might think proper. He published it +anonymously, and it was sold about Clydesdale. + +"My intention had been to qualify myself for the University, and, +perhaps in regard to Latin and Greek acquirements, I might have +proceeded thither earlier than I ventured to do; but having now made +myself master of my more immediate tasks, I took more liberty. A +gentleman, who, on coming home after having made his fortune abroad, +took up his residence at Biggar. I had, in these days, an aversion to +coming into contact with rich strangers, and although he lived with a +family which I was accustomed to visit, I bore aloof from being +introduced to him. But he came to me one day on the hill of +Bizzie-berry, and frankly told me that he wished to be acquainted with +me, and therefore had taken the liberty of introducing himself. I found +excuse for not dining with him on that day, but not so the next, nor for +many days afterwards. He was intellectual--and his intelligence was only +surpassed by his generosity. He gave me to understand that his horse was +as much at my service as his own; and one learned, by and by, to keep +all wishes and wants as much out of view as possible, in case that they +should be attended to when you yourself had forgotten them. When he +began to rally me about my limited knowledge of the world, I knew that +some excursion was in contemplation. We, on one occasion, rode down the +Clyde, finding out, so far as we might, all things, both natural and +artificial, worthy of being seen; and when at Greenock, he was anxious +that we should have gone into the Highlands, but I resisted; for +although not so much as a shade of the expenses was allowed to fall on +me, I felt only the more ashamed of the extent of them. + +"I had become acquainted with a number of people whom I delighted to +visit occasionally; one family in particular, who lived amid the beauty +of 'the wild glen sae green.' The song now widely known by this name I +wrote for a member of this delightful family, who at that time herded +one of the _hirsels_ of his father's flocks on 'the heathy hill.' With +the greater number of persons in the district possessing literary tastes +I became more or less intimate. The schoolmasters I found friendly and +obliging; one of these, in particular (now holding a higher office in +the same locality), I often visited. His high poetic taste convinced me +more and more of the value of mental culture, and tended to subdue me +from those more rugged modes of expression in which I took a pride in +conveying my conceptions. With this interesting friend I sometimes took +excursions into rural regions more or less remote, and once we journeyed +to the south, when I had the pleasure of introducing him to the Ettrick +Shepherd. But of my acquaintances, I valued few more than my modest and +poetic friend, the late James Brown of Symington.[2] Though humble in +station, he was high in virtuous worth. His mind, imbued with and +regulated by sound religious and moral principle, was as ingenious and +powerful as his heart was 'leal, warm, and kind.' + +"Entering the University of Edinburgh, I took for the first session the +Greek and Latin classes. Attending them regularly, I performed the +incumbent exercises much after the manner that others did--only, as I +have always understood it to be a rare thing with the late Mr Dunbar, +the Greek Professor, to give much praise to anything in the shape of +poetry, I may mention that marked merit was ascribed to me in his class +for a poetical translation of one of the odes of Anacreon. I had laid +the translation on his desk, in an anonymous state, one day before the +assembling of the class. He read it and praised it, expressing at the +same time his anxiety to know who was the translator; but the translator +having intended not to acknowledge it, kept quiet. He returned to it, +and praising it anew, expressed still more earnestly his desire to know +the author; and so I made myself known, as all _great unknowns_ I think, +with the exception of Junius, are sooner or later destined to do. + +"Of the philosophical classes, those that I liked best were the Logic +and Moral Philosophy--particularly the latter. I have often thought that +it is desirable, could it be possibly found practicable, to have all the +teachers of the higher departments of education not merely of high +scholastic acquirements, but of acknowledged genius. Youth reveres +genius, and delights to be influenced by it; heart and spirit are kept +awake and refreshed by it, and everything connected with its +forthgivings is rendered doubly memorable. It fixes, in a certain sense, +the limit of expectation, and the prevailing sentiment is--we are under +the tuition of the highest among those on earth who teach; if we do not +profit here, we may not hope to do so elsewhere. These remarks I make +with a particular reference to the late Professor Wilson, under the +influence of whose genius and generous warmth of heart many have felt as +I was wont to feel. If it brings hope and gladness to love and esteem +the living, it also yields a satisfaction, though mingled with regret, +to venerate the dead; and now that he is no more, I cannot forbear +recording how he treated a man from the mountains who possessed no +previous claim upon his attention. I had no introduction to him, but he +said that he had heard of me, and would accept of no fee for his class +when I joined it; at least he would not do so, he said, till I should be +able to inform him whether or not I had been pleased with his lectures. +But it proved all the same in this respect at the close as it was at the +commencement of the session. He invited me frequently to his house as a +friend, when other friends were to meet him there, besides requesting me +to come and see him and his family whenever I could make it convenient. +He said that his servant John was very perverse, and would be sure to +drive me by like all others, if he possibly could; so he gave me a +watchword, which he thought John, perverse as he was, would not venture +to resist. I thus became possessed of a privilege of which I did not +fail to avail myself frequently--a privilege which might well have been +gratifying to such as were much less enthusiastic with regard to +literary men and things than I was. To share in the conversation of +those possessed of high literary taste and talent, and, above all, of +poetic genius, is the highest enjoyment afforded by society; and if it +be thus gratifying, it is almost unnecessary to add that it is also +advantageous in no ordinary degree, if, indeed, properly appreciated +and improved. Any one who ever met the late Professor in the midst of +his own happy family, constituted as it was when I had this pleasure, +was not likely soon to forget a scene wherein so much genius, kindness, +loveliness, and worth were blended. If the world does not think with a +deep and undying regret of what once adorned it, and it has now lost, +through the intervention of those shadows which no morning but the +eternal one can remove, I am one, at least, who in this respect cannot +follow its example. + +"Edinburgh, with its 'palaces and towers,' and its many crowded ways, +was at first strangely new to me, being as different, in almost all +respects, to what I had been accustomed as it might seem possible for +contrariety to make earthly things. Though I had friends in it, and +therefore was not solitary, yet its tendency, like that of the noisy and +restless sea, was to render me melancholy. Some features which the +congregated condition of mankind exhibited penetrated my heart with +something like actual dismay. I had seen nothing of the sort, nor yet +even so much as a semblance of it, and therefore I had no idea that +there existed such a miserable shred of degradation, for example, as a +cinder-woman--desolate and dirty as her employment--bowed down--a shadow +among shadows--busily prone, beneath the sheety night sky, to find out +and fasten upon the crumb, whose pilgrimage certainly had not improved +it since falling from the rich man's table. Compassion, though not +naturally so, becomes painful when entertained towards those whom we +believe labouring under suffering which we fain would but cannot +alleviate. + +"I had enough of curiosity for wishing to see all those things which +others spoke of, and characterised as worthy of being seen; but I +contented myself meanwhile with a survey of the city's external +attributes. In a week or two, however, my friend A. F. Harrower, +formerly mentioned, having come into town from Clydesdale, took pleasure +in finding out whatever could interest or gratify me, and of conveying +me thither. With very few exceptions, every forenoon he called at my +lodgings, leaving a note requesting me to meet him at some specified +time and place. I sometimes sent apologies, and at other times went +personally to apologise; but neither of these methods answered well. +Through his persevering attentions towards me, I met with much agreeable +society, and saw much above as well as somewhat below the earth, which I +might never otherwise have seen. In illustration of the latter fact, I +may state that, having gone to London, he returned with two Englishmen, +when he invited me to assist them in exploring the battle-field of +Pinkie. We terminated our excursion by descending one of Sir John Hope's +coal-pits. These humorous and frank English associates amused themselves +by bantering my friend and myself about the chastisement which Scotland +received from the sister kingdom at Pinkie. As did the young rustic +countryman--or, at least, was admonished to do--so did I. When going +away to reside in England, he asked his father if he had any advice to +give him. 'Nane, Jock, nane but this,' he said; 'dinna forget to avenge +the battle o' Pinkie on them.' Ere I slept I wrote, in support of our +native land, the song--'Ours is the land of gallant hearts;' and thus, +in my own way, 'avenged the battle of Pinkie.' + +"One of two other friends with whom I delighted to associate was R. B., +an early school companion, who, having left the mountains earlier than I +did, had now been a number of years in Edinburgh. Of excellent head and +generous heart, he loved the wild, green, and deep solitudes of nature. +The other--G. M'D.--was of powerful and bold intellect, and remarkable +for a retentive memory. Each of us, partial to those regions where +nature strives to maintain her own undisturbed dominion, on all holidays +hied away from the city, to the woodland and mountainous haunts, or the +loneliness of the least frequented shores of the sea. The spirit of our +philosophy varied much--sometimes profound and solemn, and sometimes +humorous; but still we philosophised, wandering on. They were members of +a literary society which met once a week, and which I joined. My +propensity to study character and note its varieties was here afforded a +field opening close upon me; but I was also much profited by performing +my part in carrying forward the business of the institution. During all +the sessions that I attended the University, but especially as these +advanced toward their termination, I entered into society beyond that +which might be regarded as professionally literary. I had an idea then, +as I still have, that, in every process of improvement, care should be +taken that one department of our nature is not cultivated to the neglect +of another. There are two departments--the intellectual and the +moral;--the one implying all that is rational, the other comprising +whatever pertains to feeling and passion, or, more simply, there are the +head and the heart; and if the intellect is to be cultivated, the heart +is not to be allowed to run into wild waste, nor to sink into systematic +apathy. Lore-lighted pages and unremitting abstract studies will make a +man learned; but knowledge is not wisdom; and to know much is not so +desirable, because it is not so beneficial, either to ourselves or +others, as to understand, through the more generous and active +sympathies of our nature, how the information which we possess may be +best applied to useful purposes. This we shall not well know, if the +head be allowed or encouraged to leave the heart behind. If we forget +society it will forget us, and, through this estrangement, a sympathetic +knowledge of human nature may be lost. Thus, in the haunts of seclusion +and solitary thought our acquirements may only prove availing to +ourselves as matters of self-gratification. The benevolent affections, +which ought not merely to be allowed, but taught to expand, may thus not +only be permitted but encouraged to contract, and the exercise of that +studious ingenuity, which perhaps leads the world to admire the +achievements of learning, thus deceive us into a state of existence +little better than cold selfishness itself. Sir Isaac Newton, who soared +so high and travelled so far on the wing of abstract thought, gathering +light from the stars that he might convey it in intelligible shape to +the world, seems to have thought, high as the employment was, that it +was not good, either for the heart or mind of man, to be always away +from that intercourse with humanity and its affairs which is calculated +to awaken and sustain the sympathies of life; and therefore turned to +the contemplation of Him who was _meek and lowly_. And no countenance +has been afforded to monks and hermits who retired from the world, +though it even was to spend their lives in meditation and prayer; for +Heaven had warned man, at an early date, not to withhold the +compassionate feelings of the heart, and the helping-hand, from any in +whom he recognised the attributes of a common nature, saying to him, +'See that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh.' + +"My last year's attendance at the College Philosophical Classes was at +St Andrews. I had a craving to acquaint myself with a city noted in +story, and I could not, under the canopy of my native sky, have planted +the step among scenes more closely interwoven with past national +transactions, or fraught with more interesting associations. In +attending the Natural Philosophy Class, not being proficient in +mathematic lore, I derived less advantage than had otherwise been the +case with me. Yet I did not sit wholly in the shade, notwithstanding +that the light which shone upon me did not come from that which Campbell +says yielded 'the lyre of Heaven another string.' A man almost always +finds some excuse for deficiency; and I have one involving a philosophy +which I think few will be disposed to do otherwise than acquiesce +in--namely, that it is a happy arrangement in the creation and history +of man, that all minds are not so constituted as to have the same +predilections, or to follow the same bent. Considering that I had +started at a rather late hour of life to travel in the paths of +learning, and having so many things, interesting and important, to +attend to by the way, it was perhaps less remarkable that I should be +one who 'neither kenn'd nor cared' much about lines that had no breadth, +and points which were without either breadth or length, than that I +should have felt gratified to find on my arrival some of my simple +strains sung in a city famed for its scientific acquirements. + +"The ruins which intermingle with the scenery and happy homes of St +Andrews, like gray hairs among those of another hue, rendered venerable +the general aspect of the place. But I did not feel only the city +interesting, but the whole of Fifeshire. By excursions made on the +monthly holidays then as well as subsequently, when in after-years I +returned to visit friends in the royal realm, I acquainted myself with a +goodly number of those haunts and scenes which history and tradition +have rendered attractive. A land, however, or any department of it, +whatever may be its other advantages, is most to be valued in respect of +the intelligence or worth of its inhabitants. And if so, then I am proud +to aver that in Fife I came to possess many intelligent and excellent +friends. Many of these have gone to another land--'the land o' the +leal,' leaving the places which now know them no more, the more +regretfully endeared to recollection. Of those friends who survive, I +cannot forbear an especial mention of one, who is now a professor in the +college in which he was then only a student. A man cannot be truly great +unless he also be good, and I do not alone value him on the colder and +statelier eminence of high intellectual powers and scientific +acquirements, but also, if not much rather, for his generous worth and +his benevolent feeling. My friend is one in whom these qualities are +combined, and as I sincerely think, I will likewise freely say, that +those will assuredly find a time, sooner or later, greatly to rejoice, +whose fate has been so favourable as to place them under the range and +influence of his tuition. + +"I studied at St Andrews College under the late Dr Jackson, who was an +eminent philosopher and friendly man; also under Mr Duncan, of the +Mathematical Chair, whom I regarded as a personification of unworldly +simplicity, clothed in high and pure thought; and I regularly attended, +though not enrolled as a regular student, the Moral Philosophy Class of +Dr Chalmers. Returning to Edinburgh and its university, I became +acquainted, through my friend and countryman, Robert Hogg, with R. A. +Smith, who was desirous that I should assist him with the works in which +he was engaged, particularly 'The Irish Minstrel,' and 'Select +Melodies.' Smith was a man of modest worth and superior intelligence; +peculiarly delicate in his taste and feeling in everything pertaining to +lyric poetry as well as music; his criticisms were strict, and, as some +thought, unnecessarily minute. Diffident and retiring, he was not got +acquainted with at once, but when he gave his confidence, he was found a +pleasant companion and warm-hearted friend. If, as he had sought my +acquaintance, I might have expected more frankness on our meeting, I +soon became convinced that his shyer cast arose alone from excess of +modesty, combined with a remarkable sensitiveness of feeling. Proudly +honourable, he seemed more susceptible of the influences of all sorts +that affect life than any man I ever knew; and, indeed, a little +acquaintance with him was only required to shew that his harp was strung +too delicately for standing long the tear and wear of this world. He had +done much for Scottish melody, both by fixing the old airs in as pure a +state as possible, and by adding to the vast number of these national +treasures some exquisite airs of his own. For a number of the airs in +the works just mentioned, but particularly in the 'Select Melodies,' he +had experienced difficulty in procuring suitable words, owing chiefly to +the crampness of the measures--a serious drawback which appears to +pervade, more or less, the sweetest melodies of other nations as well as +those of our own. A number of these I supplied as well as I could. + +"About this time the native taste for Scottish song in city society +seemed nearly, if not altogether lost, and a kind of songs, such as +'I've been roaming,' 'I'd be a butterfly,' 'Buy a broom,' 'Cherry-ripe,' +&c. (in which if the head contrived to find a meaning, it was still such +as the heart could understand nothing about), seemed alone to be +popular, and to prevail. R. A. Smith disliked this state of things, but, +perhaps, few more so than Mr P. M'Leod, who gave a most splendid +evidence of his taste in his 'Original National Melodies.' Both Smith +and M'Leod were very particular about the quality of the poetry which +they honoured with their music. M'Leod was especially careful in this +respect. He loved the lay of lofty and undaunted feeling as well as of +love and friendship; for his genius is of a manly tone, and has a bold +and liberal flow. And popular as some of the effusions in his work have +become, such as 'Oh! why left I my hame?' and 'Scotland yet!' many +others of them, I am convinced, will yet be popular likewise. When the +intelligence of due appreciation draws towards them, it will take them +up and delight to fling them upon the breezes that blow over the hills +and glens, and among the haunts and homes of the isle of unconquerable +men. To Mr M'Leod's 'National Melodies' I contributed a number of songs. +In the composition of these I found it desirable to lay aside, in some +considerable degree, my pastoral phraseology, for, as conveyed in such +productions, I observed that city society cared little about rural +scenery and sentiment. It was different with my kind and gifted friend +Professor Wilson. He was wont to say that he would not have given the +education, as he was pleased to term it, which I had received afar in +the green bosom of mountain solitude, and among the haunts and homes of +the shepherd--meaning the thing as applicable to poetry--for all that he +had received at colleges. Wilson had introduced my song, 'When the glen +all is still,' into the _Noctes_, and La Sapio composed music for it; +and not only was it sung in Drury-lane, but published in a sheet as the +production of a real shepherd; yet it did not become popular in city +life. In the country it had been popular previous to this, where it is +so still, and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it. + +"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the +'Songs of the Ark,'[3] were published by Blackwood. These, as published, +are not what they were at first, and were intended only to be short +songs of a sacred nature, unconnected by intervening narrative, for +which R. A. Smith wished to compose music. Unfortunately, his other +manifold engagements never permitted him to carry his intention into +practice; and seeing no likelihood of any decrease of these engagements, +I gave scope to my thoughts on the subject, and the work became what it +now is. But I ought to mention that this was not my first poetic +publication in palpable shape. Some years previously I published +stanzas, or a monody, on the death of Lord Byron. I had all along +thought much, and with something like mysterious awe, upon the eccentric +temperament, character and history of that great poet, and the tidings +which told the event of his demise impressed me deeply. Being in the +country, and remote from those who could exchange thoughts with me on +the occurrence, I resorted to writing. That which I advanced was much +mixed up with the result, if I may not say of former experience, yet of +former reflection, for I had entertained many conjectures concerning +what this powerful personage would or might yet do; and, indeed, his +wilful waywardness, together with the misery which he represented as +continually haunting him, constituted an impressive advertisement to the +world, and served to keep human attention awake towards him. + +"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write +rapidly: likely, too, they will write with energy, because not only the +head but also the heart is engaged. 'The Monody,' which is of a goodly +length, I finished in a few days; and though I felt a desire of having +it published, yet it lay over for a time, till, being in Edinburgh, a +friend shewed it to Dr Robert Anderson. I had been well satisfied with +the result, had the production accomplished nothing more than procured +me, as it did, the friendly acquaintance of this excellent, venerable +man. He knew more of the minutiae of literature, together with the +character and habits of the literary men of his day, and of other days +also, than any I had then or have since met with; and he seemed to take +great pleasure in communicating his knowledge to others. He thought well +of 'The Monody,' and warmly advised me to publish it. It was published +accordingly by Mr John Anderson, bookseller, North Bridge, Edinburgh. + +"Some of the reviewers, in regard to the 'Songs of the Ark,' seemed to +think that a sufficiency of eastern scenery did not obtain in them. +Doubtless this was correct; but I remark, that if my object in the +undertaking had been to delineate scenery, I would not have turned my +attention to the East, the scenes of which I never saw. Human nature +being radically the same everywhere, a man, through the sympathies of +that nature, can know to a certain extent what are likely to be the +thoughts and feelings of his fellow-kind in any particular +circumstances--therefore he has data upon which he can venture to give a +representation of them; but it is very different from this in regard to +topographical phenomena. It was therefore not the natural, but, if I may +so call it, the moral scenery in which I was interested, more +particularly since the whole scene of nature here below was, shortly +after the period at which the poem commences, to become a blank of +desolate uniformity, as overwhelmed beneath a waste of waters. + +"At the risk of incurring the charge of vanity, I would venture to +adduce one or two of the favourable opinions entertained in regard to +some of the miscellaneous pieces which went to make up the volume of the +'Songs of the Ark.' Of the piece entitled 'Apathy,' Allan Cunningham +thus wrote:--'Although sufficiently distressful, it is a very bold and +original poem, such as few men, except Byron, would have conceived or +could have written.' Motherwell said of the 'Sea-gray Man,' that it was +'the best of all modern ballads.' This ballad, shortly after I had +composed it, I repeated to the Ettrick Shepherd walking on the banks of +the Yarrow, and he was fully more pleased with it than with anything of +mine I had made him acquainted with. He was wont to call me his +'assistant and successor;' and although this was done humorously, it yet +seemed to furnish him with a privilege on which he proceeded to approve +or disapprove very frankly, that in either case I might profit by his +remarks. He was pleased especially with the half mysterious way in which +I contrived to get quit of the poor old man at last. This, indeed, was a +contrivance; but the idea of the rest of the ballad was taken from an +old man, who had once been a sailor, and who was wont to come to my +mother's, in the rounds which he took in pursuit of charity at regular +periods of the year, so that we called him her pensioner. + +"The summer vacations of college years I passed in the country, +sometimes residing with my mother, and eldest brother, at a small farm +which he had taken at the foot of the Lammermuir hills, in East-Lothian, +called Brookside, and sometimes, when I wished a variety, with another +brother, at Dryden, in Selkirkshire. At both places I had enough of +time, not only for study, but also for what I may call amusement. The +latter consisted in various literary projects which I entered upon, but +particularly those of a poetic kind, and the writing of letters to +friends with whom I regularly, and I may say also copiously +corresponded; for in these we did not merely express immediate thoughts +and feelings of a more personal nature, but remarked with vigorous +frankness upon many standard affairs of this scene of things. To this +general rule of the manner of my life at this time, however, I must +mention an exception. A college companion and I, thinking to advantage +ourselves, and perhaps others, took a school at Fisherrow. The +speculation in the end, as to money matters, served us nothing. It was +easier to get scholars than to get much if anything for teaching them. +Yet neither was the former, in some respects, so easy as might have been +expected. The offspring of man, in that locality, may be regarded as in +some measure amphibious. Boys and girls equally, if not already in the +sea, were, like young turtles, sure to be pointing towards it with an +instinct too intense to err. I never met, indeed, with a race of beings +believed, or even suspected to be rational, that, provided immediate +impulses and inclinations could be gratified, cared so thoroughly little +for consequences. On warm summer days, when we caused the school door to +stand open, it is not easy to say how much of intense interest this +simple circumstance drew towards it. The squint of the unsettled eye was +on the door, out at which the heart and all its inheritance was off and +away long previously, and the more than ordinarily propitious moment for +the limbs following was only as yet not arrived. When that moment came, +off went one, followed by another; and down the narrow and dark lanes +of sooty houses. As well might the steps have proposed to pursue meteors +playing at hide-and-seek among the clouds of a midnight sky that the +tempest was troubling. Nevertheless, Colin Bell, who by virtue of his +ceaseless stir in the exercise of his heathen-god-like abilities, had +constituted himself captain of the detective band, would be up and at +hand immediately, and would say 'Master--sir, Young an' me will bring +them, sir, if ye'll let's.' It was just as good to 'let' as to hinder, +for, for others to be out thus, and he in, seemed to be an advantage +gained over Colin to which he could never be rightly reconciled. He was +bold and frank, and full of expedients in cases of emergency; especially +he appeared capable of rendering more reasons for an error in his +conduct than one could well have imagined could have been rendered for +anything done in life below. Another drawback in the case was, that one +could never be very seriously angry with him. If more real than +pretended at any time, his broad bright eye and bluff face, +magnificently lifted up, like the sun on frost-work, melted down +displeasure and threatened to betray all the policy depending on it; for +in the main never a bit of ill heart had Colin, though doubtlessly he +had in him, deeply established, a trim of rebellion against education +that seemed ever on the alert, and which repulsed even its portended +approach with a vigour resembling the electric energy of the torpedo. + +"As we did not much like this place, we did not remain long in it. I had +meanwhile, however, resources which brought relief. Those friends whose +society I most enjoyed occasionally paid us a visit from Edinburgh; and +in leisure hours I haunted the banks of the Esk, which, with wood, and +especially with wild-roses, are very beautiful around the church of +Inveresk. This beauty was heightened by contrast--for I have ever hated +the scenery of, and the effect produced by, sunny days and dirty +streets. Nor do the scenes where mankind congregate to create bustle, +'dirdum and deray,' often fail of making me more or less melancholy. In +the week of the Musselburgh Races, I only went out one day to toss about +for a few hours in the complicated and unmeaning crowd. I insert the +protest which I entered against it on my return:-- + + "'What boots this turmoil + Of uproar and folly-- + That renders the smile + Of creation unholy? + If that which we love + Is life's best assistant, + The thought still must rove + To the dear and the distant. + Would, then, that I were + 'Mid nature's wild grandeur-- + From this folly afar, + As I wont was to wander; + Where the pale cloudlets fly, + By the soft breezes driven, + And the mountains on high + Kiss the azure of heaven. + Where down the deep glen + The rivulet is rolling, + And few, few of men + Through the solitudes strolling. + Oh! bliss I could reap, + When day was returning; + O'er the wild-flowers asleep, + 'Mong the dews of the morning; + And there were it joy, + When the shades of the gloaming, + With the night's lullaby, + O'er the world were coming-- + To roam through the brake, + In the paths long forsaken; + My hill-harp retake, + And its warblings awaken. + The heart is in pain, + And the mind is in sadness-- + And when comes, oh! when, + The return of its gladness? + The forest shall fade + At the winter's returning, + And the voice of the shade + Shall be sorrow and mourning. + Man's vigour shall fail + As his locks shall grow hoary, + And where is the tale + Of his youth and his glory? + My life is a dream-- + My fate darkly furl'd; + I a hermit would seem + 'Mid the crowd of the world. + Oh! let me be free + Of these scenes that encumber, + And enjoy what may be + Of my days yet to number!' + +"I have dwelt at the greater length on these matters, trivial though +they be, in consequence of my non-intention of tracing minutely the +steps and stages of my probationary career. These, with me, I suppose, +were much like what they are and have been with others. My acquaintance +was a little extended with those that inhabit the land, and in some +cases a closer intimacy than mere acquaintance took place, and more +lasting friendships were formed. + +"My brother having taken a farm near Teviothead, I left Brookside, and +as all the members of the family were wont to account that in which my +mother lived their home, it of course was mine. But, notwithstanding +that the change brought me almost to the very border of the vale of my +nativity, I regretted to leave Brookside. It was a beautiful and +interesting place, and the remembrance of it is like what Ossian says of +joys that are past--'sweet and mournful to the soul.' I loved the place, +was partial to the peacefulness of its retirement, its solitude, and the +intelligence of its society. I was near the laird's library, and I had a +garden in the glen. The latter was formed that I might gather home to +it, when in musing moods among the mountains, the wild-flowers, in order +to their cultivation, and my having something more of a possessory right +over them. It formed a contrast to the scenery around, and lured to +relaxation. Occasionally 'the lovely of the land' brought, with +industrious delight, plants and flowers, that they might have a share in +adorning it. Even when I was from home it was, upon the whole, well +attended to; for although, according to taste or caprice, changes were +made, yet I readily forgave the annoyances that might attend alteration, +and especially those by the hands that sometimes printed me pleasing +compliments on the clay with the little stones lifted from the walks. If +the things which I have written and given to the world, or may yet give, +continue to be cared for, these details may not be wholly without use, +inasmuch as they will serve to explain frequent allusions which might +otherwise seem introduced at capricious random, or made without a +meaning. + +"Shortly after becoming a probationer, I came to reside in this +district, and, not long after, the preacher who officiated in the +preaching-station here died. The people connected with it wished me to +become his successor, which, after some difficulties on their part had +been surmounted, I became. I had other views at the time which were +promising and important; but as there had been untoward disturbances in +the place, owing to the lack of defined rights and privileges, I had it +in my power to become a peacemaker, and, besides, I felt it my duty to +comply with a call which was both cordial and unanimous. I now laid +wholly aside those things which pertain to the pursuits of romantic +literature, and devoted myself to the performance of incumbent duties. +In consequence of no house having been provided for the preacher, and no +one to be obtained but at a very inconvenient distance, I was in this +respect very inconveniently situated. Travelling nine miles to the scene +of my official duties, it was frequently my hap to preach in a very +uncomfortable condition, when, indeed, the wet would be pouring from my +arms on the Bible before me, and oozing over my shoes when the foot was +stirred on the pulpit floor. But, by and by, the Duke of Buccleuch built +a dwelling-house for me, the same which I still occupy." + +To the ministerial charge of the then preaching station of Teviothead Mr +Riddell was about to receive ordination, at the united solicitation of +his hearers, when he was suddenly visited with severe affliction. Unable +to discharge pulpit duty for a period of years, the pastoral +superintendence of the district was devolved on another; and on his +recovery, with commendable forbearance, he did not seek to interfere +with the new ecclesiastical arrangement. This procedure was generously +approved of by the Duke of Buccleuch, who conferred upon him the right +to occupy the manse cottage, along with a grant of land, and a small +annuity. + +Mr Riddell's autobiography proceeds:--"In the hope of soon obtaining a +permanent and comfortable settlement at Teviothead, I had ventured to +make my own, by marriage, her who had in heart been mine through all my +college years, and who for my sake had, in the course of these, rejected +wealth and high standing in life. The heart that, for the sake of leal +faith and love, could despise wealth and its concomitants, and brave the +risk of embracing comparative poverty, even at its best estate, was not +one likely overmuch to fear that poverty when it appeared, nor flinch +with an altered tone from the position which it had adopted, when it +actually came. This, much rather, fell to my part. It preyed upon my +mind too deeply not to prove injurious in its effects; and it did this +all the more, that the voice of love, true to its own law, had the words +of hope and consolation in it, but never those of complaint. It appeared +the _acme_ of the severity of fate itself to have lived to be the mean +of placing a heart and mind so rich in disinterested affection on so +wild and waste a scene of trial. + +"From an experience of fourteen years, in which there were changes in +almost all things except in the affection which bound two hearts in one, +before the hands were united, it might be expected that I should give +some eminent admonitions concerning the imprudence of men, and +particularly of students, allowing their hearts to become interested in, +and the remembrance of their minds more fraught with the rich beauty of +auburn ringlets than in the untoward confusion, for example, of +irregular Greek verbs; yet I much fear that admonition would be of no +use. If their fate be woven of a texture similar to that of mine, how +can they help it? A man may have an idea that to cling to the shelter +which he has found, and indulge in the sleep that has overtaken him amid +the stormy blasts of the waste mountains, may be little else than +opening for himself the gates of death, yet the toils of the way through +which he has already passed may also have rendered him incapable of +resisting the dangerous rest and repose of his immediate accommodation. +In regard to my own love affairs, I, throughout all these long years +which I have specified, might well have adopted, as the motto of both +mind and heart, these lines-- + + "'Oh, poortith cauld and restless love, + Ye wreck my peace between ye.' + +I had, as has already been hinted, a rival, who, if not so devotedly +attached as I, nevertheless was by far too much so for any one who is +destined to love without encouragement. He was as rich in proportion as +I was poor. The gifts of love, called the gifts of friendship, which he +contrived to bestow were costly; mine, as fashioned forth by a higher +hand than that of art, might be equally rich and beautiful in the main, +yet wild-flowers, though yellow as the gold, and though wrapped in +rhymes, are light ware when weighed against the solid material. He, in +personal appearance, manners, and generosity of heart, was one with whom +it was impossible to be acquainted and not to esteem; and another +feature of this affair was, that we were friends, and almost constant +companions for some years. When in the country I had to be with him as +continually as possible; and when I went to the city, it was his wont to +follow me. Here, then, was a web strangely woven by the fingers of a +wayward fate. Feelings were brought into daily exercise which might seem +the least compatible with being brought into contact and maintained in +harmony. And these things, which are strictly true, if set forth in the +contrivances of romance might, or in all likelihood would, be pronounced +unnatural or overstrained. The worth and truth of the heart to which +these fond anxieties related left me no ground to fear for losing that +regard which I valued as 'light and life' itself; but in another way +there reached me a matchless misery, and which haunted me almost as +constantly as my own shadow when the sun shone. Considering the dark +uncertainty of my future prospects in life, that regard I felt it +fearful almost beyond measure even to seek to retain, incurring the +responsibility of marring the fortune of one whom nevertheless I could +not bear the thought of another than myself having the bliss of +rendering blessed. If selfishness be thus seen to exist even in love +itself, I would fain hope that it is of an elevated and peculiar kind, +and not that which grovels, dragging downwards, and therefore justly +deserving of the name. I am the more anxious in regard to this on +account of its being in my own case felt so deeply. It maintained its +ground with more or less firmness at all times, and ultimately +triumphed, in despite of all efforts made to the contrary over the +suggestions of prudence and even the sterner reasonings of the sense of +justice. In times of sadness and melancholy, which, like the preacher's +days of darkness, were many, when hope scarcely lit the gloom of the +heart on which it sat though the band of love was about its brow, I +busied myself in endeavouring to form resolutions to resign my +pretensions to the warmer regard of her who was the object of all this +serious solicitude; but neither she herself, nor time and place seemed, +so far as I could see, disposed in the least to aid me in these efforts +of self-control and denial; and, indeed, even at best, I much suspect +that the resolutions of lovers in such cases are only like the little +dams which the rivulet forms in itself by the frail material of stray +grass-piles, and wild-rose leaves, easily overturned by the next slight +impulse that the wave receives. In a ballad called 'Lanazine,' written +somewhat in the old irregular style, sentiments relating to this matter, +a little--and only a little--disguised, are set forth. The following is +a portion of these records, written from time to time for the sake of +preserving to the memory what might once be deeply interesting to the +heart:-- + + "'O who may love with warm true heart, + And then from love refrain? + Who say 'tis fit we now should part + And never meet again? + + "'The heart once broken bleeds no more, + And a deep sound sleep it hath, + Where the stir of pain ne'er travels o'er + The solitude of death. + + "'The moon is set, and the star is gone, + And the cure, though cruel, cures, + But the heart left lone must sorrow on, + While the tie of life endures. + + "'He had nor gold nor land, and trow'd + Himself unworthy all, + And sternly in his soul had vow'd + His fond love to recall. + + "'For her he loved he would not wrong, + Since fate would ne'er agree, + And went to part with a sore, sore heart, + In the bower of the greenwood tree. + + "'The dews were deep, and the leaves were green, + And the eve was soft and still; + But strife may reach the vale I ween, + Though no blasts be on the hill. + + "'The leaves were green, and the dews were deep, + And the foot was light upon + The grass and flowers, round the bower asleep; + But parting there could be none. + + "'He spoke the word with a struggle hard, + And the fair one forward sprung, + Nor ever wist, till like one too blest, + Her arms were round him flung. + + "'For the fair one whom he'd woo'd before, + While the chill night breezes sigh'd, + Could wot not why she loved him more + Than ere she thus was tried. + + "'A red--not weak--came o'er her cheek, + And she turn'd away anon; + But since nor he nor she could speak, + Still parting there could be none. + + "'I could have lived alone for thee,' + He said; 'So lived could I,' + She answer'd, while it seem'd as she + Had wish'd even then to die. + + "'For pale, pale grew her cheek I ween, + While his arms, around her thrown, + Left space no plea to come between, + So parting there could be none. + + "'She cool'd his brow with the heart's own drop, + While the brain seem'd burning there, + And her whisper reach'd the realm of hope + Through the darkness of despair. + + "'She bade his soul be still and free, + In the light of love to live, + And soothed it with the sympathy + Which a woman's heart can give. + + "'And it seem'd more than all before + E'er given to mortal man, + The radiance came, and with it bore + The angel of the dawn. + + "'For ever since Eve her love-bower would weave, + As the first of all her line, + No one on earth had had more of worth + Than the lovely Lanazine. + + "'And if Fortune's frown would o'er him come down, + Less marvel it may be, + Since he woo'd all while to make his own + A lovelier far than she.' + + * * * * * + +"Notwithstanding the ever-living solicitude and sad suffering +constituting the keen and trying experience of many years, as arising in +consequence of this attachment and untoward circumstances, it has +brought more than a sufficient compensation; and were it possible, and +the choice given, I would assuredly follow the same course, and suffer +it all over again, rather than be without 'that treasure of departed +sorrow' that is even now at my right hand as I write these lines. + +"'The Christian Politician'[4] was published during the time of my +indisposition. This work I had written at leisure hours, with the hopes +of its being beneficial to the people placed under my care, by giving +them a general and connected view of the principles and philosophical +bearing of the Christian religion. In exhorting them privately, I +discovered that many of them understood that religion better in itself, +than they appeared to comprehend the manner in which it stood in +connexion with the surrounding circumstances of this life. In other +words, they were acquainted with doctrines and principles whose +application and use, whether in regard to thought, or feeling, or daily +practice, they did not so clearly recognise. To remedy this state of +things, I wrote 'The Christian Politician' in a style as simple as the +subjects treated of in it would well admit of, giving it a +conversational cast, instead of systematic arrangement, that it might +be the less forbidding to those for whom it was principally intended. +Being published, however, at the time when, through my indisposition, I +could take no interest in it, it was sent forth in a somewhat more +costly shape than rightly suited the original design; and although +extensively introduced and well received, it was in society of a higher +order than that which it was its object chiefly to benefit. + +"My latest publication is a volume of 'Poems and Songs,'[5] published by +Messrs Sutherland and Knox of Edinburgh. 'The Cottagers of Glendale,' +the 'Lay of Life,' and some others of the compositions in this volume, +were written during the period of my convalescence; the songs are, for +the greater part, the production of 'the days of other years.' Many of +the latter had been already sung in every district of the kingdom, but +had been much corrupted in the course of oral transmission. These +wanderers of the hill-harp are now secured in a permanent form." + +To this autobiographical sketch it remains to be added, that Mr Riddell +is possessed of nearly all the qualities of a great master of the +Scottish lyre. He has viewed the national character where it is to be +seen in its most unsophisticated aspects, and in circumstances the most +favourable to its development. He has lived, too, among scenes the best +calculated to foster the poetic temperament. "He has got," wrote +Professor Wilson, "a poet's education: he has lived the greater part of +his days amidst pastoral scenes, and tended sheep among the green and +beautiful solitudes of nature." Sufficiently imaginative, he does not, +like his minstrel predecessor the Ettrick Shepherd, soar into the +regions of the supernatural, or roam among the scenes of the viewless +world. He sings of the mountain wilds and picturesque valleys of +Caledonia, and of the simple joys and habits of rural or pastoral life. +His style is essentially lyrical, and his songs are altogether true to +nature. Several of his songs, such as "Scotland Yet," "The Wild Glen sae +Green," "The Land of Gallant Hearts," and "The Crook and Plaid," will +find admirers while Scottish lyric poetry is read or sung. + +In 1855, Mr Riddell executed a translation of the Gospel of Matthew into +the Scottish language by command of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, a +performance of which only a limited number of copies have been printed +under the Prince's auspices. At present, he is engaged in preparing a +romance connected with Border history. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] A flock of sheep. + +[2] See Minstrel, vol. iii. p. 186. + +[3] "Songs of the Ark, with other Poems." Edin. 1831. 8vo. + +[4] "The Christian Politician, or the Right Way of Thinking." Edinburgh, +1844, 8vo. This work, now nearly out of print, we would especially +commend to the favourable attention of the Religious Tract Society.--ED. + +[5] "Poems, Songs, and Miscellaneous Pieces." Edinburgh, 1847, 12mo. + + + + +THE WILD GLEN SAE GREEN. + +AIR--_"The Posy, or Roslin Castle."_ + + + When my flocks upon the heathy hill are lying a' at rest, + And the gloamin' spreads its mantle gray o'er the world's dewy breast, + I'll take my plaid and hasten through yon woody dell unseen, + And meet my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + I'll meet her by the trysting-tree, that's stannin' a' alane, + Where I hae carved her name upon yon little moss gray stane, + There I will fauld her to my breast, and be mair bless'd I ween + Than a' that are aneath the sky, in the wild glen sae green. + + Her head reclined upon this heart, in simple bliss I'll share + The pure, pure kiss o' tender love that owns nae earthly care, + And spirits hovering o'er us shall bless the heartfelt scene, + While I woo my bonnie lassie in the wild glen sae green. + + My fauldin' plaid shall shield her frae the gloamin's chilly gale; + The star o' eve shall mark our joy, but shall not tell our tale-- + Our simple tale o' tender love--that tauld sae oft has been + To my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + It may be sweet at morning hour, or at the noon o' day, + To meet wi' those that we lo'e weel in grove or garden gay; + But the sweetest bliss o' mortal life is at the hour o' e'en, + Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green. + + O! I could wander earth a' o'er, nor care for aught o' bliss, + If I might share, at my return, a joy sae pure as this; + And I could spurn a' earthly wealth--a palace and a queen, + For my bonnie, bonnie lassie, in the wild glen sae green! + + + + +SCOTIA'S THISTLE. + + + Scotia's thistle guards the grave, + Where repose her dauntless brave; + Never yet the foot of slave + Has trode the wilds of Scotia. + Free from tyrant's dark control-- + Free as waves of ocean roll-- + Free as thoughts of minstrel's soul, + Still roam the sons of Scotia. + + Scotia's hills of hoary hue, + Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue, + Watering with its dearest dew + The heathy locks of Scotia. + Down each green-wood skirted vale, + Guardian spirits, lingering, hail + Many a minstrel's melting tale, + As told of ancient Scotia. + + When the shades of eve invest + Nature's dew-bespangled breast, + How supremely man is blest + In the glens of Scotia! + There no dark alarms convey + Aught to chase life's charms away; + There they live, and live for aye, + Round the homes of Scotia. + + Wake, my hill harp! wildly wake! + Sound by lee and lonely lake, + Never shall this heart forsake + The bonnie wilds of Scotia. + Others o'er the ocean's foam + Far to other lands may roam, + But for ever be my home + Beneath the sky of Scotia! + + + + +THE LAND OF GALLANT HEARTS. + + + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of lovely forms, + The island of the mountain-harp, + The torrents and the storms; + The land that blooms with freeman's tread, + And withers with the slave's, + Where far and deep the green woods spread, + And wild the thistle waves. + + Ere ever Ossian's lofty voice + Had told of Fingal's fame, + Ere ever from their native clime + The Roman eagles came, + Our land had given heroes birth, + That durst the boldest brave, + And taught above tyrannic dust, + The thistle tufts to wave. + + What need we say how Wallace fought, + And how his foemen fell? + Or how on glorious Bannockburn + The work went wild and well? + Ours is the land of gallant hearts, + The land of honour'd graves, + Whose wreath of fame shall ne'er depart + While yet the thistle waves. + + + + +THE YELLOW LOCKS O' CHARLIE. + + + The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens, + Wi' martial steps are bounding, + And loud and lang, the wilds amang, + The war pipe's strains are sounding; + The sky and stream reflect the gleam + Of broadswords glancing rarely, + To guard till death the hills of heath + Against the foes o' Charlie. + + Then let on high the banners fly, + And hearts and hands rise prouder, + And wake amain the warlike strain + Still louder, and still louder; + For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn + O'er Appin's mountains early, + Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + While banners wave aboon the brave + Our foemen vainly gather, + And swear to claim, by deeds o' fame, + Our hills and glens o' heather. + For seas shall swell to wild and fell, + And crown green Appin fairly, + Ere hearts so steel'd to foemen yield + The rights o' royal Charlie. + + Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, + And let the mountains hoary + Re-echo round the warlike sound + That speaks of Highland glory. + For strains sublime, through future time, + Shall tell the tale unsparely, + How Scotland's crown was placed aboon + The yellow locks o' Charlie. + + + + +WE'LL MEET YET AGAIN. + + + We'll meet yet again, my loved fair one, when o'er us + The sky shall be bright, and the bower shall be green, + And the visions of life shall be lovely before us + As the sunshine of summer that sleeps o'er the scene. + The woodlands are sad when the green leaves are fading, + And sorrow is deep when the dearest must part, + But for each darker woe that our spirit is shading + A joy yet more bright shall return to the heart. + + We'll meet yet again, when the pain, disconcerting + The peace of our minds in a moment like this, + Shall melt into nought, like the tears of our parting, + Or live but in mem'ry to heighten our bliss. + We have loved in the hours when a hope scarce could find us; + We've loved when our hearts were the lightest of all, + And the same tender tie that has bound still shall bind us, + When the dark chain of fate shall have ceased to enthral. + + We'll meet yet again, when the spirit of gladness + Shall breathe o'er the valley, and brighten its flowers, + And the lone hearts of those who have long been in sadness + Shall gather delight from the transport of ours; + Yes, thine are the charms, love, that never can perish, + And thine is the star that my guide still shall be, + Alluring the hope in this soul that shall cherish + Its life's dearest treasures, to share them with thee. + + + + +OUR AIN NATIVE LAND. + + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + There's a charm in the words that we a' understand, + That flings o'er the bosom the power of a spell, + And makes us love mair what we a' love so well. + The heart may have feelings it canna conceal, + As the mind has the thoughts that nae words can reveal, + But alike he the feelings and thought can command + Who names but the name o' our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Though bleak be its mountains and rugged its strand, + The waves aye seem bless'd, dancing wild o'er the sea, + When woke by the winds from the hills o' the free. + Our sky oft is dark, and our storms loud and cauld, + But where are the hearts that sic worth can unfauld + As those that unite, and uniting expand, + When they hear but the name o' our ain native land? + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + To hear of her famed ones let none e'er demand, + For the hours o' a' time far too little would prove + To name but the names that we honour and love. + The bard lives in light, though his heart it be still, + And the cairn of the warrior stands gray on the hill, + And songster and sage can alike still command + A garland of fame from our ain native land. + + Our ain native land! our ain native land! + Her wild woods are glorious, her waterfalls grand, + And her songs still proclaim, as they ring through the glen, + The charms of her maids and the worth of her men. + Her thistle shall cease in the breezes to wave, + And the floweret to bloom on the patriot's grave, + Ere we cease to defend, with our heart and our hand, + The freedom and faith of our ain native land. + + + + +THE GRECIAN WAR SONG. + + + On! on to the fields, where of old + The laurels of freedom were won; + Let us think, as the banners of Greece we unfold, + Of the brave in the pages of glory enroll'd, + And the deeds by our forefathers done! + O yet, if there's aught that is dear, + Let bravery's arm be its shield; + Let love of our country give power to each spear, + And beauty's pale cheek dry its long-gather'd tear + In the light of the weapons we wield. + Awake then to glory, that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + Rear! rear the proud trophies once more, + Where Persia's hosts were o'erthrown; + Let the song of our triumph arise on our shore, + Till the mountains give back the far sounds, as of yore, + To the fields where our foemen lie strewn! + Oh ne'er shall our bold efforts cease + Till the garlands of freedom shall wave + In breezes, which, fraught with the tidings of peace, + Shall wander o'er all the fair islands of Greece, + And cool not the lip of a slave; + Awake then to glory! that Greece yet may be + The land--the proud land of the famed and the free! + + + + +FLORA'S LAMENT. + + + More dark is my soul than the scenes of yon islands, + Dismantled of all the gay hues that they wore; + For lost is my hope since the Prince of the Highlands + 'Mong these, his wild mountains, can meet me no more. + Ah! Charlie, how wrung was this heart when it found thee + Forlorn, and the die of thy destiny cast; + Thy Flora was firm 'mid the perils around thee, + But where were the brave of the land that had own'd thee, + That she--only she--should be true to the last? + + The step's in the bark on the dark heaving waters, + That now should have been on the floor of a throne; + And, alas for auld Scotland, her sons and her daughters! + Thy wish was their welfare, thy cause was their own. + But 'lorn may we sigh where the hill-winds awaken, + And weep in the glen where the cataracts foam, + And sleep where the dew-drops are deep on the bracken; + Thy foot has the land of thy fathers forsaken, + And more--never more will it yield thee a home. + + Oh! yet when afar, in the land of the stranger, + If e'er on thy spirit remembrance may be + Of her who was true in these moments of danger, + Reprove not the heart that still lives but for thee. + The night-shrouded flower from the dawning shall borrow + A ray, all the glow of its charms to renew, + But Charlie, ah! Charlie, no ray to thy Flora + Can dawn from thy coming to chase the dark sorrow + Which death, in thine absence, alone can subdue. + + + + +WHEN THE GLEN ALL IS STILL. + +AIR--_"Cold Frosty Morning."_ + + + When the glen all is still, save the stream of the fountain, + When the shepherd has ceased o'er the dark heath to roam, + And the wail of the plover awakes on the mountain, + Inviting her mate to return to his home-- + Oh! meet me, Eliza, adown by the wild-wood, + Where the wild daisies sleep 'mong the low-lying dew, + And our bliss shall be sweet as the visions of childhood, + And pure as the fair star, in heaven's deep blue. + + Thy locks shall be braided in drops of the gloaming, + And fann'd by the far-travell'd breeze of the lawn; + The spirits of heaven shall know of thy coming, + And watch o'er our joy till the hour of the dawn. + No woes shall we know of dark fortune's decreeing, + Of the past and the future my dreams may not be, + For the light of thine eye seems the home of my being, + And my soul's fondest thoughts shall be gather'd to thee. + + + + +SCOTLAND YET.[6] + + + Gae, bring my guid auld harp ance mair,-- + Gae, bring it free and fast,-- + For I maun sing another sang + Ere a' my glee be past; + And trow ye as I sing, my lads, + The burden o't shall be + Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The heath waves wild upon her hills, + And foaming frae the fells, + Her fountains sing o' freedom still, + As they dance down the dells; + And weel I lo'e the land, my lads, + That's girded by the sea; + Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + The thistle wags upon the fields + Where Wallace bore his blade, + That gave her foemen's dearest bluid + To dye her auld gray plaid; + And looking to the lift, my lads, + He sang this doughty glee-- + Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + + They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies, + Where freedom's voice ne'er rang; + Gie me the hills where Ossian lies, + And Coila's minstrel sang; + For I've nae skill o' lands, my lads, + That ken nae to be free; + Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, + And Scotland's hills for me-- + I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet + Wi' a' the honours three. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] This song, set to music by Mr Peter M'Leod, was published in a +separate form, and the profits, which amounted to a considerable sum, +given for the purpose of placing a parapet and railing around the +monument of Burns on the Calton Hill, Edinburgh. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S GRAVE. + + + I sat in the vale, 'neath the hawthorns so hoary, + And the gloom of my bosom seem'd deep as their shade, + For remembrance was fraught with the far-travell'd story, + That told where the dust of the minstrel was laid: + I saw not his harp on the wild boughs above me, + I heard not its anthems the mountains among; + But the flow'rets that bloom'd on his grave were more lovely + Than others would seem to the earth that belong. + + "Sleep on," said my soul, "in the depths of thy slumber + Sleep on, gentle bard! till the shades pass away; + For the lips of the living the ages shall number + That steal o'er thy heart in its couch of decay: + Oh! thou wert beloved from the dawn of thy childhood, + Beloved till the last of thy suffering was seen, + Beloved now that o'er thee is waving the wild-wood, + And the worm only living where rapture hath been. + + "Till the footsteps of time are their travel forsaking, + No form shall descend, and no dawning shall come, + To break the repose that thy ashes are taking, + And call them to life from their chamber of gloom: + Yet sleep, gentle bard! for, though silent for ever, + Thy harp in the hall of the chieftain is hung; + No time from the mem'ry of mankind shall sever + The tales that it told, and the strains that it sung." + + + + +OUR OWN LAND AND LOVED ONE. + +AIR--_"Buccleuch Gathering."_ + + + No sky shines so bright as the sky that is spread + O'er the land that gave birth to the first breath we drew-- + Such radiance but lives in the eye of the maid + That is dear to our heart--to our heart ever true. + + With her--yes, with her that this spirit has bless'd, + 'Neath my dear native sky let my home only be; + And the valley of flowers, and the heath-covered waste, + Shall alike have a spell of enchantment for me. + + Let her eye pour its light o'er the joy of my heart, + Or mingle its beam with the gloom of my woe, + And each shadow of care from the soul shall depart, + Save of care that on her it is bliss to bestow. + + My thought shall not travel to sun-lighted isles, + Nor my heart own a wish for the wealth they may claim, + But live and be bless'd in rewarding her smiles + With the song of the harp that shall hallow her name. + + The anthems of music delightful may roll, + Or eloquence flow as the waves of the sea, + But the sounds that enchantment can shed o'er the soul + Are--the lass that we love, and the land that is free! + + + + +THE BOWER OF THE WILD. + + + I form'd a green bower by the rill o' yon glen, + Afar from the din and the dwellings of men; + Where still I might linger in many a dream, + And mingle my strains wi' the voice o' the stream. + From the cave and the cliff, where the hill foxes roam, + Where the earn has his nest and the raven his home, + I brought the young flower-buds ere yet they had smiled, + And taught them to bloom round my bower of the wild. + + But the fair maidens came, from yon vale far away, + And sought my lone grotto still day after day, + And soon were the stems of their fair blossoms shorn + That the flowers of the bard might their ringlets adorn. + Full fair were they all, but the maiden most fair + Would still have no flower till I pull'd it with care; + And gentle, and simple, and modest, and mild, + She stole my lone heart in the bower of the wild. + + The summer is past, and the maidens are gone, + And this heart, like my grotto, is wither'd and lone, + And yet, with the winter, I'll cease not to mourn, + Unless, with the blossoms, these fair ones return. + Oh! had they ne'er come, or had ne'er gone away, + I sing in my sorrow still day after day. + The scene seems a desert--the charm is exiled, + And woe to my blooms and my bower of the wild! + + + + +THE CROOK AND PLAID. + +AIR--_"The Ploughman."_ + + + I winna love the laddie that ca's the cart and pleugh, + Though he should own that tender love, that's only felt by few; + For he that has this bosom a' to fondest love betray'd, + Is the faithfu' shepherd laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true to his lassie--he's aye true to his lassie, + Who wears the crook and plaid. + + At morn he climbs the mountains wild his fleecy flocks to view, + While o'er him sweet the laverock sings, new sprung frae 'mang the dew; + His doggie frolics roun' and roun', and may not weel be stay'd, + Sae blithe it is the laddie wi' that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + At noon he leans him down upon the high and heathy fell, + And views his flocks, beneath him a', fair feeding in the dell; + And there he sings the sangs o' love, the sweetest ever made; + O! how happy is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + He pu's the bells o' heather red, and the lily-flowers sae meek, + Ca's the lily like my bosom, and the heath-bell like my cheek; + His words are sweet and tender, as the dews frae heaven shed; + And weel I love to list the lad who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + When the dews begin to fauld the flowers, and the gloamin' shades draw on, + When the star comes stealing through the sky, and the kye are on the loan, + He whistles through the glen sae sweet, the heart is lighter made + To ken the laddie hameward hies who wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + Beneath the spreading hawthorn gray, that's growing in the glen, + He meets me in the gloamin' aye, when nane on earth can ken, + To woo and vow, and there I trow, whatever may be said, + He kens aye unco weel the way to row me in his plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + The youth o' mony riches may to his fair one ride, + And woo across the table cauld his madam-titled bride; + But I'll gang to the hawthorn gray, where cheek to cheek is laid, + Oh! nae wooers like the laddie that rows me in his plaid; + And he's aye true, &c. + + To own the truth o' tender love what heart wad no comply, + Since love gives purer happiness than aught aneath the sky? + If love be in the bosom, then the heart is ne'er afraid; + And through life I'll love the laddie that wears the crook and plaid; + For he's aye true, &c. + + + + +THE MINSTREL'S BOWER. + +AIR--_"Bonnie Mary Hay."_ + + + Oh, lassie! if thou'lt gang to yonder glen wi' me, + I'll weave the wilds amang a bonnie bower for thee; + I'll weave a bonnie bower o' the birks and willows green, + And to my heart thou'lt be what nae other e'er has been. + + When the dew is on the flower, and the starlight on the lea, + In the bonnie green-wood bower I'll wake my harp to thee; + I'll wake my hill-harp's strain, and the echoes o' the dell + Shall restore the tales again that its notes o' love shall tell. + + Oh, lassie! thou art fair as the morning's early beam, + As the image of a flower reflected frae the stream; + There's kindness in thy heart, and there's language in thine e'e, + But ah! its looks impart nae sweet tale o' love to me! + + Oh, lassie! wert thou mine I wad love thee wi' such love + As the lips can ne'er define, and the cold can never prove; + In the bower by yonder stream our happy home should be, + And our life a blissful dream, while I lived alone for thee. + + When I am far away my thoughts on thee shall rest, + Allured, as by a ray, frae the dwellings o' the blest; + For beneath the clouds o' dew, where'er my path may be, + Oh! a maiden fair as thou, I again shall never see! + + + + +WHEN THE STAR OF THE MORNING. + + + When the star of the morning is set, + And the heavens are beauteous and blue, + And the bells of the heather are wet + With the drops of the deep-lying dew; + 'Mong the flocks on the mountains that lie, + 'Twas blithesome and blissful to be, + When these all my thoughts would employ; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When noontide displays all its powers, + And the flocks to the valley return, + To lie and to feed 'mong the flowers + That bloom on the banks of the burn; + O sweet, sweet it was to recline + 'Neath the shade of yon hoar hawthorn-tree, + And think on the charge that was mine; + But now I must think upon thee. + + When Gloaming stole down from the rocks, + With her fingers of shadowy light, + And the dews of the eve in her locks, + To spread down a couch for the night; + 'Twas sweet through yon green birks to stray, + That border the brook and the lea; + But now, 'tis a wearisome way, + Unless it were travell'd with thee. + + All lovely and pure as thou art, + And generous of thought and of will, + Oh Mary! speak thou to this heart, + And bid its wild beating be still; + I'd give all the ewes in the fold-- + I'd give all the lambs on the lea, + By night or by day to behold + One look of true kindness from thee. + + + + +THOUGH ALL FAIR WAS THAT BOSOM. + + + Though all fair was that bosom, heaving white, + While hung this fond spirit o'er thee; + And though that eye, with beauty's light, + Still bedimm'd every eye before thee; + Oh! charms there were still more divine, + When woke that melting voice of thine, + The charms that caught this soul of mine, + And taught it to adore thee. + + Then died the woes of the heart away + With the thoughts of joys departed; + For my soul seem'd but to live in thy lay, + While it told of the faithful-hearted. + Methought how sweet it were to be + Far in some wild green glen with thee; + From all of life and of longing free, + Save what pure love imparted. + + Oh! I could stray where the drops of dew + Never fell on the desert round me, + And dwell where the fair flowers never grew + If the hymns of thy voice still found me. + Thy smile itself could the soul invest + With all that here makes mortals bless'd; + While every thought thy lips express'd + In deeper love still bound me. + + + + +WOULD THAT I WERE WHERE WILD WOODS WAVE. + + + Would that I were where wild woods wave + Aboon the beds where sleep the brave; + And where the streams o' Scotia lave + Her hills and glens o' grandeur! + + Where freedom reigns, and friendship dwells, + Bright as the sun upon the fells, + When autumn brings the heather-bells + In all their native splendour. + The thistle wi' the hawthorn joins, + The birks mix wi' the mountain pines, + And heart with dauntless heart combines + For ever to defend her. + Then would I were, &c. + + There roam the kind, and live the leal, + By lofty ha' and lowly shiel; + And she for whom the heart must feel + A kindness still mair tender. + Fair, where the light hill breezes blaw, + The wild-flowers bloom by glen and shaw; + But she is fairer than them a', + Wherever she may wander. + Then would I were, &c. + + Still, far or near, by wild or wood, + I'll love the generous, wise, and good; + But she shall share the dearest mood + That Heaven to life may render. + What boots it then thus on to stir, + And still from love's enjoyment err, + When I to Scotland and to her + Must all this heart surrender. + Then would I were, &c. + + + + +OH! TELL ME WHAT SOUND. + +AIR--_"Paddy's Resource."_ + + + Oh! tell me what sound is the sweetest to hear-- + The sound that can most o'er our being prevail? + 'Tis the sweet melting voice of the maid we love dear, + When chanting the songs of her own native vale. + More thrilling is this than the tone of the gale, + Awakening the wind-harp's wild wandering lore; + More sweet than the songster that sings in the dale, + When the strains of the rest of the warblers are o'er. + + Oh! tell me what light, of the earth or the sky, + Can the deepest delight to the spirit impart? + 'Tis the bright beaming radiance that lives in the eye + Of the maid that affection has bound to the heart. + More charming is this than the glory of art, + More lovely than rays from yon heavens above; + It heightens each joy, as it soothes every smart, + Enchanting our souls with the magic of love. + + Oh! tell me what drop is most melting and meek + That aught 'neath the azure of heaven can share? + 'Tis the tear-drop that falls o'er the dear maiden's cheek + When she breathes o'er her lover her sigh and her prayer! + More tender is this--more celestial and fair-- + Than the dew-drop that springs from the chamber of morn; + A balm that still softens the ranklings of care, + And heals every wound that the bosom hath borne. + + + + +OUR MARY.[7] + + + Our Mary liket weel to stray + Where clear the burn was rowin', + And trouth she was, though I say sae, + As fair as ought ere made o' clay, + And pure as ony gowan. + + And happy, too, as ony lark + The clud might ever carry; + She shunn'd the ill, and sought the good, + E'en mair than weel was understood; + And a' fouk liket Mary. + + But she fell sick wi' some decay, + When she was but eleven; + And as she pined frae day to day, + We grudged to see her gaun away, + Though she was gaun to Heaven. + + There's fears for them that's far awa', + And fykes for them are flitting, + But fears and cares, baith grit and sma', + We, by and by, o'er-pit them a'; + But death there's nae o'er-pitting. + + And nature's bands are hard to break, + When thus they maun be broken; + And e'en the form we loved to see, + We canna lang, dear though it be, + Preserve it as a token. + + But Mary had a gentle heart-- + Heaven did as gently free her; + Yet lang afore she reach'd that part, + Dear sir, it wad hae made ye start + Had ye been there to see her. + + Sae changed, and yet sae sweet and fair, + And growing meek and meeker, + Wi' her lang locks o' yellow hair, + She wore a little angel's air, + Ere angels cam to seek her. + + And when she couldna stray out by, + The wee wild-flowers to gather; + She oft her household plays wad try, + To hide her illness frae our eye, + Lest she should grieve us farther. + + But ilka thing we said or did, + Aye pleased the sweet wee creature; + Indeed ye wad hae thought she had + A something in her made her glad + Ayont the course o' nature. + + For though disease, beyont remeed, + Was in her frame indented, + Yet aye the mair as she grew ill, + She grew and grew the lovelier still, + And mair and mair contented. + + But death's cauld hour cam' on at last, + As it to a' is comin'; + And may it be, whene'er it fa's, + Nae waur to others than it was + To Mary, sweet wee woman! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] This exquisite lay forms a portion of "The Cottagers of Glendale," +Mr Riddell's longest ballad poem. + + + + +MRS MARGARET M. INGLIS. + + +The writer of spirited and elegant poetry, Mrs Margaret Maxwell Inglis +was the youngest daughter of Alexander Murray, a medical practitioner, +who latterly accepted a small government situation in the town of +Sanquhar, Dumfriesshire. She was born at Sanquhar on the 27th October +1774, and at an early age became the wife of a Mr Finlay, who held a +subordinate post in the navy. On the death of her husband, which took +place in the West Indies, she resided with the other members of her +family in Dumfries; and in 1803, she married Mr John Inglis, only son of +John Inglis, D.D., minister of Kirkmabreck, in Galloway. By the death of +Mr Inglis in 1826, she became dependent, with three children by her +second marriage, on a small annuity arising from an appointment which +her late husband had held in the Excise. She relieved the sadness of her +widowhood by a course of extensive reading, and of composition both in +prose and verse. In 1838 she published, at the solicitation of friends, +a duodecimo volume, entitled "Miscellaneous Collection of Poems, chiefly +Scriptural Pieces." Of the compositions in this volume, there are +several of very superior merit, while the whole are marked by a vein of +elegant fancy. + +Mrs Inglis died in Edinburgh on the 21st December 1843. Eminently gifted +as a musician, she could boast of having been complimented by the poet +Burns on the grace with which she had, in his presence, sung his own +songs. Of retiring and unobtrusive habits, she mixed sparingly in +general society; but among her intimate friends, she was held in +estimation for the extent of her information and the unclouded +cheerfulness of her disposition. She has left some MSS. of poems and +songs, from which we have been privileged to make selections for the +present work. + + + + +SWEET BARD OF ETTRICK'S GLEN.[8] + +AIR--_"Banks of the Devon."_ + + + Sweet bard of Ettrick's glen! + Where art thou wandering? + Miss'd is thy foot on the mountain and lea. + Why round yon craggy rocks + Wander thy heedless flocks, + While lambies are list'ning and bleating for thee? + Cold as the mountain stream, + Pale as the moonlight beam, + Still is thy bosom, and closed is thine e'e. + Wild may the tempest's wave + Sweep o'er thy lonely grave; + Thou art deaf to the storm--it is harmless to thee. + + Like a meteor's brief light, + Like the breath of the morning, + Thy life's dream hath pass'd as a shadow gone by; + Till thy soft numbers stealing + O'er mem'ry's warm feeling, + Each line is embalm'd with a tear or a sigh. + Sweet was thy melody, + Rich as the rose's dye, + Shedding its odours o'er sorrow or glee; + Love laugh'd on golden wing, + Pleasure's hand touch'd the string, + All taught the strain to sing, Shepherd, by thee. + + Cold on Benlomond's brow + Flickers the drifted snow, + While down its sides the wild cataracts foam; + Winter's mad winds may sweep + Fierce o'er each glen and steep, + Thy rest is unbroken, and peaceful thy home. + And when on dewy wing + Comes the sweet bird of spring, + Chanting its notes on the bush or the tree; + The Bird of the Wilderness, + Low in the waving grass, + Shall, cow'ring, sing sadly its farewell to thee. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] This song was composed by Mrs Inglis, in honour of the Ettrick +Shepherd, shortly after the period of his death. + + + + +YOUNG JAMIE.[9] + +AIR--_"Drummond Castle."_ + + + Leafless and bare were the shrub and the flower, + Cauld was the drift that blew over yon mountain, + But caulder my heart at his last ling'ring hour, + Though warm was the tear-drap that fell frae my e'e. + O saft is the tint o' the gowan sae bonny, + The blue heather-bell and the rose sweet as ony, + But softer the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e, + And sweeter the smile o' young Jamie. + + Dark lowers the cloud o'er yon mountain sae hie, + Faint gloams the sun through the mists o' the ocean, + Rough rows the wave on whose bosom I see + The wee bit frail bark that bears Jamie frae me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon wild waste sae dreary, + And lang count the hours, now so lonesome and weary, + And oft may I see the leaf fade frae the tree, + Ere I see the blithe blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + + Cheerless and wae, on yon snaw-cover'd thorn, + Mournfu' and lane is the chirp o' the Robin, + He looks through the storm, but nae shelter can see; + Come, Robin, and join the sad concert wi' me. + Oh, lang may I look o'er yon foam-crested billow, + And Hope dies away like a storm-broken willow; + Sweet Robin, the blossom again ye may see, + But I'll ne'er see the blink o' his bonnie blue e'e. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Printed for the first time. + + + + +CHARLIE'S BONNET'S DOWN, LADDIE. + +AIR--_"Tullymet."_ + + + Let Highland lads, wi' belted plaids, + And bonnets blue and white cockades, + Put on their shields, unsheathe their blades, + And conquest fell begin; + And let the word be Scotland's heir: + And when their swords can do nae mair, + Lang bowstrings o' their yellow hair + Let Hieland lasses spin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Kilt yer plaid and scour the heather; + Charlie's bonnet's down, laddie, + Draw yer dirk and rin. + + Mind Wallace wight, auld Scotland's light, + And Douglas bright, and Scrymgeour's might, + And Murray Bothwell's gallant knight, + And Ruthven light and trim-- + Kirkpatrick black, wha in a crack + Laid Cressingham upon his back, + Garr'd Edward gather up his pack, + And ply his spurs and rin, laddie. + Charlie's bonnet's down, &c. + + + + +HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE? + + + Heard ye the bagpipe, or saw ye the banners + That floated sae light o'er the fields o' Kildairlie; + Saw ye the broadswords, the shields and the tartan hose, + Heard ye the muster-roll sworn to Prince Charlie? + Saw ye brave Appin, wi' bonnet and belted plaid, + Or saw ye the Lords o' Seaforth and Airlie; + Saw ye the Glengarry, M'Leod, and Clandonachil, + Plant the white rose in their bonnets for Charlie? + + Saw ye the halls o' auld Holyrood lighted up, + Kenn'd ye the nobles that revell'd sae rarely; + Saw ye the chiefs of Lochiel and Clanronald, + Wha rush'd frae their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? + But saw ye the blood-streaming fields of Culloden, + Or kenn'd ye the banners were tatter'd sae sairly; + Heard ye the pibroch sae wild and sae wailing, + That mourn'd for the chieftains that fell for Prince Charlie. + + Wha, in yon Highland glen, weary and shelterless, + Pillows his head on the heather sae barely; + Wha seeks the darkest night, wha maunna face the light, + Borne down by lawless might--gallant Prince Charlie? + Wha, like the stricken deer, chased by the hunter's spear, + Fled frae the hills o' his father sae scaredly; + But wha, by affection's chart, reigns in auld Scotland's heart-- + Wha but the royal, the gallant Prince Charlie? + + + + +BRUCE'S ADDRESS. + + + When the morning's first ray saw the mighty in arms, + And the tyrant's proud banners insultingly wave, + And the slogan of battle from beauty's fond arms + Roused the war-crested chieftain, his country to save; + The sunbeam that rose on our mountain-clad warriors, + And reflected their shields in the green rippling wave, + In its course saw the slain on the fields of their fathers, + And shed its last ray on their cold bloody graves. + + O'er those green beds of honour our war-song prepare, + And the red sword of vengeance triumphantly wave, + While the ghosts of the slain cry aloud--Do not spare, + Lead to victory and freedom, or die with the brave; + For the high soul of freedom no tyrant can fetter, + Like the unshackled billows our proud shores that lave; + Though oppressed, he will watch o'er the home of his fathers, + And rest his wan cheek on the tomb of the brave. + + To arms, then! to arms! Let the battle-cry rise, + Like the raven's hoarse croak, through their ranks let it sound; + Set their knell on the wing of each arrow that flies, + Till the shouts of the free shake the mountains around; + Let the cold-blooded, faint-hearted changeling now tremble, + For the war-shock shall reach to his dark-centered cave, + While the laurels that twine round the brows of the victors + Shall with rev'rence be strew'd o'er the tombs of the brave. + + + + +REMOVED FROM VAIN FASHION. + + + Removed from vain fashion, + From title's proud ken, + In a straw-cover'd cottage, + Deep hid in yon glen, + There dwells a sweet flow'ret, + Pure, lovely, and fair, + Though rear'd, like the snowdrop, + 'Midst hardships' chill air. + + No soft voice of kindred, + Or parent she knows-- + In the desert she blooms, + Like the sweet mountain rose, + Like the little stray'd lammie + That bleats on the lea; + She's soft, kind, and gentle, + And dear, dear to me. + + Though the rich dews of fortune + Ne'er water'd this stem, + Nor one fostering sunbeam + Matured the rich gem-- + Oh! give me that pure bosom, + Her lot let me share, + I'll laugh at distinction, + And smile away care. + + + + +WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN? + + + When shall we meet again, + Meet ne'er to sever? + When shall Peace wreath her chain + Round us for ever? + When shall our hearts repose, + Safe from each breath that blows, + In this dark world of woes? + Never! oh, never! + + Fate's unrelenting hand + Long may divide us, + Yet in one holy land + One God shall guide us. + Then, on that happy shore, + Care ne'er shall reach us more, + Earth's vain delusions o'er, + Angels beside us. + + There, where no storms can chill, + False friends deceive us, + Where, with protracted thrill, + Hope cannot grieve us; + There with the pure in heart, + Far from fate's venom'd dart, + There shall we meet to part + Never! oh, never! + + + + +JAMES KING. + + +James King was born in Paisley in 1776. His paternal ancestors, for a +course of centuries, were farmers in the vicinity of Gleniffer Braes. +Having been only one year at school, he was, at the age of eight, +required to assist his father in his trade of muslin-weaving. Joining a +circulating library, he soon acquired an acquaintance with books; he +early wrote verses, and became the intimate associate of Tannahill, who +has honourably mentioned him in one of his poetical epistles. In his +fifteenth year he enlisted in a fencible regiment, which was afterwards +stationed at Inverness. On its being disembodied in 1798, he returned to +the loom at Paisley, where he continued till 1803, when he became a +recruit in the Renfrewshire county militia. He accompanied this regiment +to Margate, Deal, Dover, Portsmouth, and London, and subsequently to +Leith, the French prisoners' depot at Penicuick, and the Castle of +Edinburgh. At Edinburgh his poetical talents recommended him to some +attention from Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick Shepherd, and several +others of the poets of the capital. + +Accused of exciting disaffection, and promoting an attempt made by a +portion of his comrades to resist lawful authority while the regiment +was stationed at Perth, King, though wholly innocent of the charge, +fearing the vengeance of the adjutant, who was hostile to him, contrived +to effect his escape. By a circuitous route, so as to elude the +vigilance of parties sent to apprehend him, he reached the district of +Galloway, where he obtained employment as a shepherd and agricultural +labourer. He subsequently wrought as a weaver at Crieff till 1815, when, +on his regiment being disembodied, he was honourably acquitted from the +charge preferred against him, and granted his discharge. He now settled +as a muslin-weaver, first at Glasgow, and afterwards at Paisley and +Charleston. He died at Charleston, near Paisley, on the 27th September +1849, in his seventy-third year. + +Of vigorous intellect, lively fancy, and a keen appreciation of the +humorous, King was much esteemed among persons of a rank superior to his +own. His mind was of a fine devotional cast, and his poetical +compositions are distinguished by earnestness of expression and +sentiment. + + + + +THE LAKE IS AT REST. + + + The lake is at rest, love, + The sun's on its breast, love, + How bright is its water, how pleasant to see; + Its verdant banks shewing + The richest flowers blowing, + A picture of bliss and an emblem of thee! + + Then, O fairest maiden! + When earth is array'd in + The beauties of heaven o'er mountain and lea, + Let me still delight in + The glories that brighten, + For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee. + + But, Anna, why redden? + I would not, fair maiden, + My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray; + The traitor, the demon, + That could deceive woman, + His soul's all unfit for the glories of day. + + Believe me then, fairest, + To me thou art dearest; + And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree, + With flower blooming mountains, + And crystalline fountains, + I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee. + + + + +LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW. + +AIR--_"Scott's Boat Song."_ + + + No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley, + Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell, + Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily, + That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale. + At length from the hill I heard, + Plaintively wild, a bard, + Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow; + "Remember what Morard says, + Morard of many days, + Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain, + Sad is the song that the bugle-horns sing; + Though lovely the standard it waves o'er the mangled slain, + Widows' sighs stretching its broad gilded wing. + Hard are the laws that bind + Poor foolish man and blind; + But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow, + Thy cheeks with health's roses spread, + Till time clothes with snow thy head, + Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe. + + "Wouldst thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary, + Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom; + Innocence leads to the summit of glory, + Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb. + The tyrant, whose hands are red, + Trembles alone in bed; + But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow, + No horror fiends haunt his rest, + Hope fills his placid breast, + Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe." + + Ceased the soft voice, for gray mist was descending, + Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill, + The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending, + Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill, + Yet still from the hoary bard, + Methought the sweet song I heard, + Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe; + And oft as I pass along, + Chimes in mine ear his song, + "Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe." + + + + +ISOBEL PAGAN. + + +The author of a sweet pastoral lyric, which has been praised both by +Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham, Isobel Pagan claims a biographical +notice. She was born in the parish of New Cumnock, Ayrshire, about the +year 1741. Deserted by her relations in youth, and possessing only an +imperfect education, she was led into a course of irregularities which +an early moral training would have probably prevented. She was lame and +singularly ill-favoured, but her manners were spirited and amusing. Her +chief employment was the composition of verses, and these she sung as a +mode of subsistence. She published, in 1805, a volume of doggerel +rhymes, and was in the habit of satirising in verse those who had +offended her. Her one happy effort in song-making has preserved her +name. She lived chiefly in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk. She died on +the 3d November 1821, in her eightieth year, and her remains were +interred in the churchyard of Muirkirk. A tombstone marks her grave. + + + + +CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.[10] + + + Ca' the yowes to the knowes, + Ca' them where the heather grows, + Ca' them where the burnie rows, + My bonnie dearie. + + As I gaed down the water-side, + There I met my shepherd lad, + He row'd me sweetly in his plaid, + An' he ca'd me his dearie. + + "Will ye gang down the water-side, + And see the waves sae sweetly glide + Beneath the hazels spreading wide? + The moon it shines fu' clearly. + + "Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet, + Cauf-leather shoon to thy white feet, + And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep, + And ye shall be my dearie." + + "If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, + I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad, + And ye may row me in your plaid, + And I shall be your dearie." + + "While water wimples to the sea, + While day blinks in the lift sae hie, + Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e, + Ye shall be my dearie." + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Of this song a new version was composed by Burns, the original +chorus being retained. Burns' version commences--"Hark the mavis' +evening sang." + + + + +JOHN MITCHELL. + + +John Mitchell, the Paisley bard, died in that place on the 12th August +1856, in his seventieth year. He was born at Paisley in 1786. The labour +of weaving he early sought to relieve by the composition of verses. He +contributed pieces, both in prose and verse, to the _Moral and Literary +Observer_, a small Paisley periodical of the year 1823, and of which he +was the publisher. In 1838, he appeared as the author of "A Night on the +Banks of the Doon, and other Poems," a volume which was followed in 1840 +by "The Wee Steeple's Ghaist, and other Poems and Songs," the latter +being dedicated to Professor Wilson. In the year 1840, he likewise +produced, jointly with a Mr Dickie, the "Philosophy of Witchcraft," a +work which, published by Messrs Oliver and Boyd, was well received. His +next publication appeared in 1845, with the title, "One Hundred Original +Songs." His last work, "My Gray Goose Quill, and other Poems and Songs," +was published in 1852. + +Mitchell employed himself latterly in forwarding the sale of his +publications, and succeeded by this course in securing a comfortable +maintenance. He wrote verses with much readiness, and occasionally with +considerable power. His songs, which we have selected for the present +work, are distinguished by graceful simplicity and elegant pathos. Had +Mitchell written less, and more carefully, he had reached a higher niche +in the Temple of National Song. His manners were eccentric, and he was +not unconscious of his poetical endowments. + + + + +BEAUTY. + + + What wakes the Poet's lyre? + 'Tis Beauty; + What kindles his poetic fire? + 'Tis Beauty; + What makes him seek, at evening's hour, + The lonely glen, the leafy bower, + When dew hangs on each little flower? + Oh! it is Beauty. + + What melts the soldier's soul? + 'Tis Beauty; + What can his love of fame control? + 'Tis Beauty; + For oft, amid the battle's rage, + Some lovely vision will engage + His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage: + Such power has Beauty. + + What tames the savage mood? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives a polish to the rude? + 'Tis Beauty; + What gives the peasant's lowly state + A charm which wealth cannot create, + And on the good alone will wait? + 'Tis faithful Beauty. + + Then let our favourite toast + Be Beauty; + Is it not king and peasant's boast? + Yes, Beauty; + Then let us guard with tender care + The gentle, th' inspiring fair, + And Love will a diviner air + Impart to Beauty. + + + + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + + Star of descending Night! + Lovely and fair, + Robed in thy mellow light, + Subtle and rare; + Whence are thy silvery beams, + That o'er lone ocean gleams, + And in our crystal streams + Dip their bright hair? + + Far in yon liquid sky, + Where streamers play + And the red lightnings fly, + Hold'st thou thy way; + Clouds may envelop thee, + Winds rave o'er land and sea, + O'er them thy march is free + As thine own ray. + + + + +OH! WAFT ME TO THE FAIRY CLIME. + + + Oh! waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home; + There will I wander by the streams + Where Song and Dance combine, + Around my rosy waking dreams + Ecstatic joys to twine. + + On Music's swell my thoughts will soar + Above created things, + And revel on the boundless shore + Of rapt imaginings. + The rolling spheres beyond earth's ken + My fancy will explore, + And seek, far from the haunts of men, + The Poet's mystic lore. + + Love will add gladness to the scene, + And strew my path with flowers; + And Joy with Innocence will lean + Amid my rosy bowers. + Then waft me to the fairy clime + Where Fancy loves to roam, + Where Hope is ever in her prime, + And Friendship has a home. + + + + +THE LOVE-SICK MAID. + + + The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid, + Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid? + Can the doctor cure her woe + When she will not let him know + Why the tears incessant flow + From the love-sick maid? + + The flaunting day, the flaunting day, + She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day! + For she sits and pines alone, + And will comfort take from none; + Nay, the very colour's gone + From the love-sick maid. + + The secret 's out, the secret 's out, + A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out! + For she finds at e'ening's hour, + In a rosy woodland bower, + Charms worth a prince's dower + To a love-sick maid. + + + + +ALEXANDER JAMIESON. + + +Alexander Jamieson was born in the village of Dalmellington, Ayrshire, +on the 29th January 1789. After a course of study at the University of +Edinburgh, he obtained licence as a medical practitioner. In 1819, he +settled as a surgeon and apothecary in the town of Alloa. A skilful +mechanician, he constructed a small printing-press for his own use; he +was likewise ardently devoted to the study of botany. He composed verses +with remarkable facility, many of which he contributed to the _Stirling +Journal_ newspaper. His death was peculiarly melancholy: he had formed +one of a pic-nic party, on a fine summer day, to the summit of +Bencleugh, one of the Ochils, and descending by a shorter route to visit +a patient at Tillicoultry, he missed his footing, and was precipitated +about two hundred feet into one of the ravines. He was early next +morning discovered by a shepherd, but only survived a few hours +afterwards. His death took place on the 26th July 1826. Possessed of +varied talents, and excellent dispositions, Jamieson was deeply +regretted by his friends. He left a widow, who died lately in +Dunfermline. His songs, of which two specimens are adduced, afford +evidence of power. + + + + +THE MAID WHO WOVE.[11] + +_"Russian Air."_ + + + The maid who wove the rosy wreath + With every flower--hath wrought a spell, + And though her chaplets fragrance breathe + And balmy sweets--I know full well, + 'Neath every bud, or blossom gay, + There lurks a chain--Love's tyranny. + + Though round her ruby lips, enshrin'd, + Sits stillness, soft as evening skies-- + Though crimson'd cheek you seldom find, + Or glances from her downcast eyes-- + There lurks, unseen, a world of charms, + Which ne'er betray young Love's alarms. + + O trust not to her silent tongue; + Her settled calm, or absent smile; + Nor dream that nymph, so fair and young, + May not enchain in Love's soft guile; + For where Love is--or what's Love's spell-- + No mortal knows--no tongue can tell. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] This song was addressed by Mr Jamieson to Miss Jane Morrison of +Alloa, the heroine of Motherwell's popular ballad of "Jeanie Morrison," +and who had thus the singular good fortune to be celebrated by two +different poets. For some account of Miss Morrison, now Mrs Murdoch, see +vol. iii. p. 233. + + + + +A SIGH AND A SMILE. + +WELSH AIR--_"Sir William Watkin Wynne."_ + + + From Beauty's soft lip, like the balm of its roses, + Or breath of the morning, a sigh took its flight; + Nor far had it stray'd forth, when Pity proposes + The wanderer should lodge in this bosom a night. + + But scarce had the guest, in that peaceful seclusion, + His lodging secured, when a conflict arose, + Each feeling was changed, every thought was delusion, + Nor longer my breast knew the calm of repose. + + They say that young Love is a rosy-cheek'd bowyer, + At random the shafts from his silken string fly, + But surely the urchin of peace is destroyer, + Whose arrows are dipp'd in the balm of a sigh. + + O yes! for he whisper'd, "To Beauty's shrine hie thee; + There worship to Cupid, and wait yet awhile; + A cure she can give, with the balm can supply thee, + The wound from a sigh can be cured by a smile." + + + + +JOHN GOLDIE. + + +A short-lived poet and song-writer of some promise, John Goldie was born +at Ayr on the 22d December 1798. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, was a respectable shipmaster. Obtaining an ample education at the +academy of his native town, he became, in his fifteenth year, assistant +to a grocer in Paisley; he subsequently held a similar situation in a +stoneware and china shop in Glasgow. In 1821 he opened, on his own +account, a stoneware establishment at Ayr; but proving unfortunate in +business, he abandoned the concerns of trade. From his boyhood being +devoted to literature he now resolved on its cultivation as a means of +support. Already known as an occasional contributor, both in prose and +verse, to the public press, he received the appointment of assistant +editor of the _Ayr Courier_, and shortly after obtained the entire +literary superintendence of that journal. In 1821, he published a +pamphlet of respectable verses; and in the following year appeared as +the author of a duodecimo volume of "Poems and Songs," which he +inscribed to the Ettrick Shepherd. Of the compositions in the latter +publication, the greater portion, he intimates in the preface, "were +composed at an early age, chiefly betwixt the years of sixteen and +twenty;" and as the production of a very young man, the volume is +altogether creditable to his genius and taste. + +Deprived of the editorship of the _Courier_, in consequence of a change +in the proprietary, Goldie proceeded to London, in the hope of forming +a connexion with some of the leading newspapers in the metropolis. +Unsuccessful in this effort, he formed the project of publishing _The +London Scotsman_, a newspaper to be chiefly devoted to the consideration +of Scottish affairs. Lacking that encouragement necessary to the +ultimate success of this adventure, he abandoned the scheme after the +third publication, and in very reduced circumstances returned to +Scotland. He now projected the _Paisley Advertiser_, of which the first +number appeared on the 9th October 1824. The editorship of this +newspaper he retained till his death, which took place suddenly on the +27th February 1826, in his twenty-eighth year. + +Of a vigorous intellect, and possessed of a correct literary taste, +Goldie afforded excellent promise of eminence as a journalist. As a poet +and song-writer, a rich vein of humour pervades certain of his +compositions, while others are marked by a plaintive tenderness. Of +sociable and generous dispositions, he was much esteemed by a circle of +admiring friends. His personal appearance was pleasing, and his +countenance wore the aspect of intelligence. + + + + +AND CAN THY BOSOM? + +AIR--_"Loudon's Bonnie Woods and Braes."_ + + + And can thy bosom bear the thought + To part frae love and me, laddie? + Are all those plighted vows forgot, + Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie? + Canst thou forget the midnight hour, + When in yon love-inspiring bower, + You vow'd by every heavenly power + You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie? + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin' ye part wi' me, laddie. + + Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek, + Aft praised my sparkling e'e, laddie, + Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek, + But love and live wi' me, laddie. + But soon those cheeks will lose their red, + Those eyes in endless sleep be hid, + And 'neath the turf the heart be laid + That beats for love and thee, laddie. + Wilt thou--wilt thou gang and leave me-- + Win my heart and then deceive me? + Oh! that heart will break, believe me, + Gin ye part frae me, laddie. + + You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair, + Where rarer beauties shine, laddie, + But, oh! the heart can never bear + A love sae true as mine, laddie. + But when that heart is laid at rest-- + That heart that lo'ed ye last and best-- + Oh! then the pangs that rend thy breast + Will sharper be than mine, laddie. + Broken vows will vex and grieve me, + Till a broken heart relieve me-- + Yet its latest thought, believe me, + Will be love an' thine, laddie. + + + + +SWEET'S THE DEW. + + + Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June + And lily fair to see, Annie, + But there's ne'er a flower that blooms + Is half so fair as thee, Annie. + Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine + The opening rose its beauties tine, + Thy lips the rubies far outshine, + Love sparkles in thine e'e, Annie. + + The snaw that decks yon mountain top + Nae purer is than thee, Annie; + The haughty mien and pridefu' look + Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie. + And in thy sweet angelic face + Triumphant beams each modest grace; + And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace + A form sae bright as thine, Annie. + + Wha could behold thy rosy cheek + And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie; + What heart could view thy smiling looks, + And plot to do thee wrang, Annie? + Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave, + My heart, my soul, wi' thee I'll leave, + And never, till I cease to breathe, + I'll cease to think on thee, Annie. + + + + +ROBERT POLLOK. + + +Robert Pollok, author of the immortal poem, "The Course of Time," was +the son of a small farmer in the parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, +where he was born on the 19th October 1798. With a short interval of +employment in the workshop of a cabinetmaker, he was engaged till his +seventeenth year in services about his father's farm. Resolving to +prepare for the ministry in the Secession Church, he took lessons in +classical learning at the parish school of Fenwick, Ayrshire, and in +twelve months fitted himself for the university. He attended the +literary and philosophical classes in Glasgow College, during five +sessions, and subsequently studied in the Divinity Hall of the United +Secession Church. He wrote verses in his boyhood, in his eighteenth year +composed a poetical essay, and afterwards produced respectable +translations from the Classics as college exercises. His great poem, +"The Course of Time," was commenced in December 1824, and finished +within the space of nineteen months. On the 24th March 1827, the poem +was published by Mr Blackwood; and on the 2d of the following May the +author received his license as a probationer. The extraordinary success +of his poem had excited strong anticipations in respect of his +professional career, but these were destined to disappointment. Pollok +only preached four times. His constitution, originally robust, had +suffered from over exertion in boyhood, and more recently from a course +of sedulous application in preparing for license, and in the production +of his poem. To recruit his wasted strength, a change of climate was +necessary, and that of Italy was recommended. The afflicted poet only +reached Southampton, where he died a few weeks after his arrival, on the +18th September 1827. In Millbrook churchyard, near Southampton, where +his remains were interred, a monument has been erected to his memory. + +Besides his remarkable poem, Pollok published three short tales relative +to the sufferings of the Covenanters. He had projected a large work +respecting the influences which Christianity had exercised upon +literature. Since his death, several short poetical pieces from his pen +have, along with a memoir, been published by his brother. In person he +was of the ordinary height, and of symmetrical form. His complexion was +pale brown; his features small, and his eyes dark and piercing. "He +was," writes Mr Gabriel Neil, who enjoyed his friendship, "of plain +simple manners, with a well-cultivated mind; he loved debate, and took +pleasure in good-humoured controversy." The copyright of "The Course of +Time" continues to produce emolument to the family. + + + + +THE AFRICAN MAID. + + + On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, + Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste, + All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, + Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste. + + A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide, + And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave; + Ah! well might she gaze--in the ship's hollow side, + Moan'd her Zoopah in chains--in the chains of a slave. + + Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep, + Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail, + Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep; + Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:-- + + "O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe? + Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too! + Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow + To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view? + + * * * * * + + "Great Spirit! why slumber'd the wrath of thy clouds, + When the savage white men dragg'd my Zoopah away? + Why linger'd the panther far back in his woods? + Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey? + + "Ah cruel white monsters! plague poison their breath, + And sleep never visit the place of their bed! + On their children and wives, on their life and their death, + Abide still the curse of an African maid!" + + + + +J. C. DENOVAN. + + +J. C. Denovan was born at Edinburgh in 1798. Early evincing a +predilection for a seafaring life, he was enabled to enter a sloop of +war, with the honorary rank of a midshipman. After accomplishing a +single voyage, he was necessitated, by the death of his father, to +abandon his nautical occupation, and to seek a livelihood in Edinburgh. +He now became, in his sixteenth year, apprentice to a grocer; and he +subsequently established himself as a coffee-roaster in the capital. He +died in 1827. Of amiable dispositions, he was an agreeable and +unassuming member of society. He courted the Muse to interest his hours +of leisure, and his poetical aspirations received the encouragement of +Sir Walter Scott and other men of letters. + + + + +OH DERMOT, DEAR LOVED ONE! + + + Thou hast left me, dear Dermot! to cross the wide seas, + And thy Norah lives grieving in sadness forlorn, + She laments and looks back on the past happy days + When thy presence had left her no object to mourn + Those days that are past, + Too joyous to last, + A pang leaves behind them, 'tis Heaven's decree; + No joy now is mine, + In sadness I pine, + Till Dermot, dear Dermot, returns back to me. + + O Dermot, dear Dermot! why, why didst thou leave + The girl who holds thee so dear in her heart? + Oh! couldst thou hold a thought that would cause her to grieve, + Or think for one moment from Norah to part? + Couldst thou reconcile + To leave this dear isle, + In a far unknown country, where dangers there be? + Oh! for thy dear sake + This poor heart will break, + If thou, dear beloved one, return not to me. + + In silence I 'll weep till my Dermot doth come, + Alone will I wander by moon, noon, and night, + Still praying of Heaven to send him safe home + To her who 'll embrace him with joy and delight. + Then come, like a dove, + To thy faithful love, + Whose heart will entwine thee, fond, joyous, and free; + From danger's alarms + Speed to her open arms, + O Dermot, dear loved one! return back to me. + + + + +JOHN IMLAH. + + +John Imlah, one of the sweetest and most patriotic of Scottish +song-writers, was born in North Street, Aberdeen, about the close of the +year 1799. His progenitors were farmers in the parish of Fyvie, but his +father followed the profession of an innkeeper. Of seven sons, born in +succession to his parents, the poet was the youngest. On completing an +ordinary education at the grammar-school, he was apprenticed to a +pianoforte maker in Aberdeen. Excelling as a piano-tuner he, in this +capacity, sought employment in London, and was fortunate in procuring an +engagement from the Messrs Broadwood. For the first six months of the +year he performed the duties of a tuner in the metropolis, and during +the remaining six months prosecuted his vocation in Scotland. Attached +to his native country, he took delight in celebrating her strains. He +composed songs from his boyhood. In 1827, he published "May Flowers," a +duodecimo volume of lyrics, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, which he +followed by a second volume of "Poems and Songs" in 1841. He contributed +to Macleod's "National Melodies" and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. +On the 9th January 1846, his death took place at Jamaica, whither he had +gone on a visit to one of his brothers. + +Imlah was a person of amiable dispositions and agreeable manners. Of his +numerous lyrics, each is distinguished by a rich fancy, and several of +his songs will maintain a lasting place in the national minstrelsy. + + + + +KATHLEEN. + +AIR--_"The Humours of Glen."_ + + + O distant but dear is that sweet island, wherein + My hopes with my Kathleen and kindred abide; + And far though I wander from thee, emerald Erin! + No space can the links of my love-chain divide. + Fairest spot of the earth! brightest gem of the ocean! + How oft have I waken'd my wild harp in thee! + While, with eye of expression, and heart of emotion, + Listen'd, Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + The bloom of the moss-rose, the blush of the morning, + The soft cheek of Kathleen discloses their dye; + What ruby can rival the lip of mavourneen? + What sight-dazzling diamond can equal her eye? + Her silken hair vies with the sunbeam in brightness, + And white is her brow as the surf of the sea; + Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness, + Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom! + As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed, + Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom, + Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed; + While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on, + That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea; + And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon + And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree! + + + + +HIELAN' HEATHER. + +AIR--_"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."_ + + + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + Dear to me, an' aye shall be, + The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather! + + The moss-muir black an' mountain blue, + Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather; + The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue, + Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing, + Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather; + While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring, + Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel, + Young lads and lasses trip thegither; + The native Norlan rant and reel + Amang the halesome Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin, + Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather; + How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair + The purple bells o' Hielan' heather! + Hey for the Hielan' heather! + + Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range, + My fancy fondly travels thither; + Nae countrie charms, nae customs change + My feelings frae the Hielan' heather! + Hey, for the Hielan' heather! + + + + +FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Kinloch."_ + + + Loved land of my kindred, farewell--and for ever! + Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart; + When fated with each fond endearment to sever, + And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart! + Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish, + Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget, + Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish + The dearest regard and the deepest regret. + + Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested! + Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sight; + Your peaks are the king-eagle's thrones--where have rested + The snow-falls of ages--eternally white. + Ah! never again shall the falls of your fountains + Their wild murmur'd music awake on mine ear; + No more the lake's lustre, that mirrors your mountains, + I'll pore on with pleasure--deep, lonely, yet dear. + + Yet--yet Caledonia! when slumber comes o'er me, + Oh! oft will I dream of thee, far, far, away; + But vain are the visions that rapture restore me, + To waken and weep at the dawn of the day. + Ere gone the last glimpse, faint and far o'er the ocean, + Where yet my heart dwells--where it ever shall dwell, + While tongue, sigh and tear, speak my spirit's emotion, + My country--my kindred--farewell, oh farewell! + + + + +THE ROSE OF SEATON VALE. + + + A bonnie Rose bloom'd wild and fair, + As sweet a bud I trow + As ever breathed the morning air, + Or drank the evening dew. + A Zephyr loved the blushing flower, + With sigh and fond love tale; + It woo'd within its briery bower + The rose of Seaton Vale. + + With wakening kiss the Zephyr press'd + This bud at morning light; + At noon it fann'd its glowing breast, + And nestled there at night. + But other flowers sprung up thereby, + And lured the roving gale; + The Zephyr left to droop and die + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + A matchless maiden dwelt by Don, + Loved by as fair a youth; + Long had their young hearts throbb'd as one + Wi' tenderness and truth. + Thy warmest tear, soft Pity, pour-- + For Ellen's type and tale + Are in that sweet, ill-fated flower, + The Rose of Seaton Vale. + + + + +KATHERINE AND DONALD. + + + Young Donald dearer loved than life + The proud Dunallan's daughter; + But, barr'd by feudal hate and strife, + In vain he loved and sought her. + She loved the Lord of Garry's glen, + The chieftain of Clanronald; + A thousand plaided Highlandmen + Clasp'd the claymore for Donald. + + On Scotland rush'd the Danish hordes, + Dunallan met his foemen; + Beneath him bared ten thousand swords + Of vassal, serf, and yeomen. + The fray was fierce--and at its height + Was seen a visor'd stranger, + With red lance foremost in the fight, + Unfearing Dane and danger. + + "Be praised--brave knight! thy steel hath striven + The sharpest in the slaughter; + Crave what thou wilt of me--though even + My fair--my darling daughter!" + He lifts the visor from his face-- + The chieftain of Clanronald! + And foes enclasp in friends' embrace, + Dunallan and young Donald. + + Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee-- + The feast-cup glads Glengarry; + The joy that should for ever be + When mutual lovers marry. + The shout and shell the revellers raise, + Dunallan and Clanronald; + And minstrel measures pour to praise + Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald! + + + + +GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'. + + + Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'! + Since it is sae that I maun gang; + Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah! + To gang again as wearie lang. + Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang + That I sae sune sou'd haste awa'; + But since it's sae that I maun gae, + Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'! + + This night I ween we've had the heart + To gar auld Time tak' to his feet; + That makes us a' fu' laith to part, + But aye mair fain again to meet! + To dree the winter's drift and weet + For sic a night is nocht ava, + For hours the sweetest o' the sweet; + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen, + In younker revels fidgin' fain; + Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been, + Like daffin hizzies, young again! + To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain + We've deftly danced the time awa': + We met in mirth--we part wi' pain, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + My nimble gray neighs at the yett, + My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw; + I've clapt the spur upon my buit, + The guid braid bonnet on my brow! + Then night is wearing late I trow-- + My hame lies mony a mile awa'; + The mair's my need to mount and go, + Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'! + + + + +THE GATHERING.[12] + + + Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman, + Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early; + Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen, + Belt on your broad claymores--fight for Prince Charlie; + Down from the mountain steep, + Up from the valley deep, + Out from the clachan, the bothie, and shieling, + Bugle and battle-drum + Bid chief and vassal come, + Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing. + + Men of the mountains--descendants of heroes! + Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers; + Say, shall the Southern--the Sassenach fear us + When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers? + Too long on the trophied walls + Of your ancestral halls, + Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin; + Seize then, ye mountain Macs, + Buckler and battle-axe, + Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin! + + When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward? + When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal? + Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart, + Follow your leader--the rightful--the royal! + Chief of Clanronald, + Donald Macdonald! + Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon! + Rouse every kilted clan, + Rouse every loyal man, + Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[12] A MS. copy of this song had been sent by the author to the Ettrick +Shepherd. Having been found among the Shepherd's papers after his +decease, it was regarded as his own composition, and has consequently +been included in the posthumous edition of his songs, published by the +Messrs Blackie. The song appears in Imlah's "May Flowers," published in +1827. + + + + +MARY. + +AIR--_"The Dawtie."_ + + There lives a young lassie + Far down yon lang glen, + How I lo'e that lassie + There's nae ane can ken! + Oh! a saint's faith may vary, + But faithfu' I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + And Mary lo'es me. + + Red, red as the rowan + Her smiling wee mou, + An' white as the gowan + Her breast and her brow; + Wi' the foot o' a fairy + She links o'er the lea-- + Oh! weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me. + + Where yon tall forest timmer, + An' lowly broom bower, + To the sunshine o' simmer, + Spread verdure an' flower; + There, when night clouds the cary, + Beside her I'll be-- + For weel I lo'e Mary, + An' Mary lo'es me! + + + + +OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.[13] + + + Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay, + By Border Nith, and Highland Spey, + But dearer far to me than they + The braes o' Bennachie. + + When blade and blossoms sprout in spring, + And bid the burdies wag the wing, + They blithely bob, and soar, and sing + By the foot o' Bennachie. + + When simmer cleeds the varied scene + Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green, + I fain would be where aft I've been + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn, + And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn, + 'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill + O'er icy burn and sheeted hill, + The ingle neuk is gleesome still + At the foot o' Bennachie. + + Though few to welcome me remain, + Though a' I loved be dead and gane, + I'll back, though I should live alane, + To the foot o' Bennachie. + + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins + By the foot o' Bennachie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[13] The chorus of this song, which is said to have been originally +connected with a plaintive Jacobite ditty, now lost, has suggested +several modern songs similar in manner and sentiment. Imlah composed two +songs with this chorus. The earlier of these compositions appears in the +"May Flowers." It is evidently founded upon a rumour, which prevailed in +Aberdeenshire during the first quarter of the century, to the effect, +that a Scottish officer, serving in Egypt, had been much affected on +hearing a soldier's wife _crooning_ to herself the original words of the +air. We have inserted in the text Imlah's second version, as being +somewhat smoother in versification. It is the only song which we have +transcribed from his volume, published in 1841. But the most popular +words which have been attached to the air and chorus were the +composition of a student in one of the colleges of Aberdeen, nearly +thirty years since, who is now an able and accomplished clergyman of the +Scottish Church. Having received the chorus and heard the air from a +comrade, he immediately composed the following verses, here printed from +the author's MS.:-- + + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins, + Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, + At the back o' Bennachie! + + I wish I were where Gadie rins, + 'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins, + Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins + At the back o' Bennachie; + + To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang, + To wander birks and braes amang, + Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang, + At the back o' Bennachie. + + How mony a day, in blithe spring-time, + How mony a day, in summer's prime, + I wil'd awa' my careless time + On the heights o' Bennachie. + + Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife, + And walth is won wi' grief and strife-- + Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life + At the back o' Bennachie. + + Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht, + When baith our hearts were young and licht, + We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht + Wi' speeches fond and free. + + Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins, + Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- + Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins + At the back o' Bennachie. + +"The air," communicates the reverend author of this song, "is +undoubtedly old, from its resemblance to several Gaelic and Irish airs. +'Cuir's chiste moir me,' and several others, might be thought to have +been originally the same _in the first part_. The second part of the air +is, I think, modern." The Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, +in Aberdeenshire. + + + + +JOHN TWEEDIE. + + +John Tweedie was born in the year 1800, in the vicinity of Peebles, +where his father was a shepherd. Obtaining a classical education, he +proceeded to the University of Edinburgh, to prosecute his studies for +the Established Church. By acting as a tutor during the summer months, +he was enabled to support himself at the university, and after the usual +curriculum, he was licensed as a probationer. Though possessed of +popular talents as a preacher, he was not successful in obtaining a +living in the Church. During his probationary career, he was employed as +a tutor in the family of the minister of Newbattle, assisted in the +parish of Eddleston, and ultimately became missionary at Stockbridge, +Edinburgh. He died at Linkfieldhall, Musselburgh, on the 29th February +1844. Tweedie was a person of amiable dispositions and unaffected piety; +he did not much cultivate his gifts as a poet, but the following song +from his pen, to the old air, "Saw ye my Maggie," has received a +considerable measure of popularity.[14] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] In the "Cottagers of Glendale," Mr H. S. Riddell alludes to two of +Tweedie's brothers, who perished among the snow in the manner described +in that poem. The present memoir is prepared from materials chiefly +supplied by Mr Riddell. + + + + +SAW YE MY ANNIE? + + + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Saw ye my Annie, + Wading 'mang the dew? + My Annie walks as light + As shadow in the night + Or downy cloudlet light + Alang the fields o' blue. + + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + What like is your Annie, + That we may ken her be? + She's fair as nature's flush, + Blithe as dawning's blush, + And gentle as the hush + When e'ening faulds her e'e. + + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Yonder comes my Annie, + Bounding o'er the lea. + Lammies play before her, + Birdies whistle o'er her, + I mysell adore her, + In heavenly ecstasy. + + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Come to my arms, my Annie, + Speed, speed, like winged day. + My Annie's rosy cheek + Smiled fair as morning's streak, + We felt, but couldna speak, + 'Neath love's enraptured sway. + + + + +THOMAS ATKINSON. + + +Thomas Atkinson, a respectable writer of prose and verse, was born at +Glasgow about the year 1800. Having completed an apprenticeship to Mr +Turnbull, bookseller, Trongate, he entered into copartnership with Mr +David Robertson, subsequently King's publisher in the city. Of active +business habits, he conducted, along with his partner, an extensive +bookselling trade, yet found leisure for the pursuits of elegant +literature. At an early age he published "The Sextuple Alliance," a +series of poems on the subject of Napoleon Bonaparte, which afforded +considerable promise, and received the commendation of Sir Walter Scott. +In 1827, he published "The Ant," a work in two volumes, one of which +consists of entirely original, and the other of selected matter. "The +Chameleon," a publication of the nature of an annual, commenced in 1831, +and extended to three octavo volumes. Of this work, a _melange_ of prose +and poetry, the contents for the greater part were of his own +composition. The last volume appeared in September 1833, shortly before +his death. + +Deeply interested in the public affairs, Atkinson was distinguished as a +public speaker. At the general election, subsequent to the passing of +the Reform Bill, he was invited to become a candidate in the liberal +interest for the parliamentary representation of the Stirling burghs, in +opposition to Lord Dalmeny, who was returned. Naturally of a sound +constitution, the exertions of his political canvass superinduced an +illness, which terminated in pulmonary consumption. During a voyage he +had undertaken to Barbadoes for the recovery of his health, he died at +sea on the 10th October 1833. His remains, placed in an oaken coffin, +which he had taken along with him, were buried in the deep. He +bequeathed a sum, to be applied, after accumulation, in erecting a +building in Glasgow for scientific purposes. A monument to his memory +has been erected in the Glasgow Necropolis. The following stanzas were +composed by the dying poet at the outset of his voyage, and less than +three weeks prior to his decease; they are dated the "River Mersey," +21st September 1833:-- + + I could not, as I gazed my last--there was on me a spell, + In all its simple agony--breathe that lone word--"Farewell," + Which hath no hope that clings to it, the closer as it dies, + In song alone 'twould pass the lips that loved the dear disguise. + + I go across a bluer wave than now girds round my bark, + As forth the dove went trembling--but to my Father's ark + Shall I return? I may not ask my doubting heart, but yet + To hope and wish in one--how hard the lesson to forget. + + * * * * * + + But drooping head and feeble limbs--and, oh! a beating heart, + Remind the vow'd to sing no more of all his weary part; + Yet, with a voice that trembles as the sounds unloose the spell, + In this, his last and rudest lay, he now can breathe--"Farewell." + +In the "Chameleon" several of Mr Atkinson's songs are set to music, but, +with the exception of "Mary Shearer," none of them are likely to obtain +popularity. + + + + +MARY SHEARER. + + + She's aff and awa', like the lang summer-day, + And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary; + The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae, + But lang for blithe Mary fu' mony may weary. + For mair hearts than mine + Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer; + But nane mair will pine + For the sweet Mary Shearer! + + She cam' wi' the spring, just like ane o' its flowers, + And the blue-bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither; + The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours, + But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither. + Their sweet breath is fled-- + Her kind looks still endear her; + For the heart maun be dead + That forgets Mary Shearer! + + Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung; + An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover; + Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue, + Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover. + Oh! he maun be bless'd + Wha's allow'd to be near her; + For the fairest and best + O' her kind 's Mary Shearer! + + But farewell Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven, + My country and kin,--since I 've sae lov'd the stranger; + Whare she 's been maun be either a pine or a heaven-- + Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger. + Though I try to forget, + In my heart still I 'll wear her, + For mine may be yet-- + Name and a'--Mary Shearer! + + + + +WILLIAM GARDINER. + + +William Gardiner, the author of "Scotland's Hills," was born at Perth +about the year 1800. He established himself as a bookseller in +Cupar-Fife. During a period of residence in Dundee, in acquiring a +knowledge of his trade, he formed the acquaintance of the poet Vedder. +With the assistance of this gifted individual, he composed his popular +song of "Scotland's Hills." Introduced at a theatre in Dundee, it was +received with marked approbation. It was first printed, in January 1829, +in the _Fife Herald_ newspaper, with a humorous preface by Vedder, and +was afterwards copied into the _Edinburgh Literary Gazette_. It has +since found a place in many of the collections of Scottish song, and has +three different times been set to music. + +Gardiner was unfortunate as a bookseller, and ultimately obtained +employment in the publishing office of the _Fife Herald_. He died at +Perth on the 4th July 1845. Some years before his death, he published a +volume of original and selected compositions, under the title of +"Gardiner's Miscellany." He was a person of amiable dispositions; and to +other good qualities of a personal character, added considerable skill +in music. + + + + +O SCOTLAND'S HILLS FOR ME![15] + + + O these are not my country's hills, + Though they seem bright and fair; + Though flow'rets deck their verdant sides, + The heather blooms not there. + Let me behold the mountain steep, + And wild deer roaming free-- + The heathy glen, the ravine deep-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The rose, through all this garden-land, + May shed its rich perfume, + But I would rather wander 'mong + My country's bonnie broom. + There sings the shepherd on the hill, + The ploughman on the lea; + There lives my blithesome mountain maid, + O Scotland's hills for me! + + The throstle and the nightingale + May warble sweeter strains + Than thrills at lovely gloaming hour + O'er Scotland's daisied plains; + Give me the merle's mellow note, + The linnet's liquid lay; + The laverocks on the roseate cloud-- + O Scotland's hills for me! + + And I would rather roam beneath + Thy scowling winter skies, + Than listlessly attune my lyre + Where sun-bright flowers arise. + The baron's hall, the peasant's cot + Protect alike the free; + The tyrant dies who breathes thine air; + O Scotland's hills for me! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] At the request of one Roger, a music-master in Edinburgh, who had +obtained a copy of the first two stanzas, a third was added by Mr Robert +Chambers, and in this form the song appears in some of the collections. +Mr Chambers's stanza proceeds thus:-- + + In southern climes the radiant sun + A brighter light displays; + But I love best his milder beams + That shine on Scotland's braes. + Then dear, romantic native land + If e'er I roam from thee, + I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay; + O Scotland's hills for me! + + + + + +ROBERT HOGG. + + +Robert Hogg was born in the parish of Stobo, about the close of the +century. His father was William Hogg, eldest brother of the Ettrick +Shepherd. William Hogg was also a shepherd, a sensible, well-conducted +man, and possessed of considerable literary talent. Receiving a +classical education at the grammar-school of Peebles, Robert proceeded +to the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying for the +Church. Abandoning his original views, he became corrector of the press, +or reader in the printing-office of Messrs Ballantyne. John Wilson, the +future vocalist, was his yoke-fellow in office. His official duties were +arduous, but he contrived to find leisure for contributing, both in +prose and verse, to the periodicals. His literary talents attracted the +favourable notice of Mr J. G. Lockhart, who, on being appointed, in +1825, to conduct the _Quarterly Review_, secured his services as +secretary or literary assistant. He therefore proceeded to London, but +as it was found there was not sufficient occasion for his services in +his new appointment, he returned in a few months to the duties of his +former situation. For a short period he acted as amanuensis to Sir +Walter Scott, while the "Life of Napoleon" was in progress. According to +his own account,[16] this must have been no relief from his ordinary +toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost +evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When _Chambers's +Edinburgh Journal_ was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former +schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of assistant +editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this +office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give +satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor, +both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular +periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to +give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peeblesshire, where he +died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child. + +Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of +humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of +heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary +periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish +Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, entitled +"The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle +in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are +transcribed from a small periodical, entitled "The Rainbow," published +at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Album, in +the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by +his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's +poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of +Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression, +but they are defective in startling originality and power.[17] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[16] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott." + +[17] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert Chambers for +many of the particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG. + + + Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me, + Over the holme so green, over the lea, + Over the corrie, and down by the lake, + Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake, + Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea: + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill; + Come at the dead of night when all is still; + Come over mountain steep, come over brae, + Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray; + Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae, + Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray, + Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben, + Or by the braken howe far down the glen, + Or by the river side; where'er ye be, + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night, + Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light, + To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven, + And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven, + Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea; + Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me! + + + + +WHEN AUTUMN COMES. + + + When autumn comes an' heather bells + Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells, + An' corn that waves on lowland dales + Is yellow ripe appearing; + + Bonnie lassie will ye gang + Shear wi' me the hale day lang; + An' love will mak' us eithly bang + The weary toil o' shearing? + + An' if the lasses should envy, + Or say we love, then you an' I + Will pass ilk ither slyly by, + As if we werena caring. + + But aye I wi' my heuk will whang + The thistles, if in prickles strang + Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang, + When we gang to the shearing. + + An' aye we'll haud our rig afore, + An' ply to hae the shearing o'er, + Syne you will soon forget you bore + Your neighbours' jibes and jeering. + + For then, my lassie, we'll be wed, + When we hae proof o' ither had, + An' nae mair need to mind what's said + When we're thegither shearing. + + + + +BONNIE PEGGIE, O! + + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O! + When the siller burn rins clear, + When the rose blooms on the brier, + An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O! + + I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O! + You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O! + My heart's been sick and sair, + But it shall be sae nae mair, + I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O! + + You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O! + An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O! + Let the world gae as it will, + Be it weel or be it ill, + Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O! + + Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O! + Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O! + Nae mair my love is cross'd, + Sorrow's sairest pang is past, + I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O! + + + + +A WISH BURST. + + + Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea, + With the winds and waves for guides, + From all the wants of Nature free + And all her ties besides. + Beyond where footstep ever trode + Would I hold my onward way, + As wild as the waves on which I rode, + And fearless too as they. + + The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep + Were music to mine ear; + I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep + Close round me without fear. + When winter storms burst from the cloud + And trouble the ocean's breast, + I'd joy me in their roaring loud, + And mid their war find rest. + + By islands fair in the ocean placed, + With waves all murmuring round, + My wayward course should still be traced, + And still no home be found. + When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide, + And men look out to sea, + My bark in silence by should glide, + Their wonder and awe to be. + + When sultry summer suns prevail, + And rest on the parching land, + The cool sea breeze would I inhale, + O'er the ocean breathing bland. + A restless sprite, that likes delight, + In calm and tempest found, + 'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea + For ever and aye to bound. + + + + +I LOVE THE MERRY MOONLIGHT.[18] + + + I love the merry moonlight, + So wooingly it dances, + At midnight hours, round leaves and flowers, + On which the fresh dew glances. + + I love the merry moonlight, + On lake and pool so brightly + It pours its beams, and in the stream's + Rough current leaps so lightly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + It ever shines so cheerily + When night clouds flit, that, but for it, + Would cast a shade so drearily. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For when it gleams so mildly + The passions rest that rule the breast + At other times so wildly. + + I love the merry moonlight, + For 'neath it I can borrow + Such blissful dreams, that this world seems + Without a sin or sorrow. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[18] Printed from the author's MS., in the possession of Mr H. S. +Riddell. + + + + +OH, WHAT ARE THE CHAINS OF LOVE MADE OF?[19] + + + Oh, what are the chains of Love made of, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man? + + Can you twist a rope of beams of the sun, + Or have you power to seize, + And round your hand, like threads of silk, + Wind up the wandering breeze? + + Can you collect the morning dew + And, with the greatest pains, + Beat every drop into a link, + And of these links make chains? + + More fleeting in their nature still, + And less substantial are + Than sunbeam, breeze, and drop of dew, + Smile, sigh, and tear--by far. + + And yet of these Love's chains are made, + The only bonds that can, + As iron gyves the body, thrall + The free-born soul of man. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[19] Printed for the first time from the original MS. + + + + +JOHN WRIGHT. + + +A son of genius and of misfortune, John Wright was born on the 1st +September 1805, at the farm-house of Auchincloigh, in the parish of +Sorn, Ayrshire. From his mother, a woman of much originality and +shrewdness, he inherited a strong inclination towards intellectual +culture. His school education was circumscribed, but he experienced +delight in improving his mind, by solitary musings amidst the amenities +of the vicinity of Galston, a village to which his father had removed. +At the age of seven, he began to assist his father in his occupation of +a coal driver; and in his thirteenth year he was apprenticed to the +loom. His master supplied him with books, which he perused with avidity, +and he took an active part in the weekly meetings of apprentices for +mutual literary improvement; but his chief happiness was still +experienced in lonely rambles amidst the interesting scenes of the +neighbourhood, which, often celebrated by the poets, were especially +calculated to foment his own rapidly developing fancy. He fell in love, +was accepted, and ultimately cast off--incidents which afforded him +opportunities of celebrating the charms, and deploring the inconstancy +of the fair. He composed a poem, of fifteen hundred lines, entitled +"Mahomet, or the Hegira," and performed the extraordinary mental effort +of retaining the whole on his memory, at the period being unable to +write. "The Retrospect," a poem of more matured power, was announced in +1824. At the recommendation of friends, having proceeded to Edinburgh to +seek the counsel of men of letters, he submitted the MS. of his poem to +Professor Wilson, Dr M'Crie, Mr Glassford Bell, and others, who +severally expressed their approval, and commended a publication. "The +Retrospect," accordingly, appeared with a numerous list of subscribers, +and was well received by the press. The poet now removed to Cambuslang, +near Glasgow, where he continued to prosecute his occupation of weaving. +He entered into the married state by espousing Margaret Chalmers, a +young woman of respectable connexions and considerable literary tastes. +The desire of obtaining funds to afford change of climate to his wife, +who was suffering from impaired health, induced him to propose a second +edition of his poems, to be published by subscription. During the course +of his canvass, he unfortunately contracted those habits of intemperance +which have proved the bane of so many of the sons of genius. Returning +to the loom at Cambuslang, he began to exchange the pleasures of the +family hearth for the boisterous excitement of the tavern. He separated +from his wife and children, and became the victim of dissipation. In +1853, some of his literary friends published the whole of his poetical +works in a duodecimo volume, in the hope of procuring the means of +extricating him from his painful condition. The attempt did not succeed. +He died in an hospital in Glasgow, of fever, contracted by intemperance. +As a poet, he was possessed of a rich fancy, with strong descriptive +powers. His "Retrospect" abounds with beautiful passages; and some of +his shorter poems and songs are destined to survive. + + + + +AN AUTUMNAL CLOUD. + + + Oh! would I were throned on yon glossy golden cloud, + Soaring to heaven with the eagle so proud, + Floating o'er the sky + Like a spirit, to descry + Each bright realm,--and, when I die, + May it be my shroud! + + I would skim afar o'er ocean, and drink of bliss my fill, + O'er the thunders of Ni'gara and cataracts of Nile,-- + With rising rainbows wreathed, + In mist and darkness sheathed, + Where nought but spirits breathed + Around me the while. + + Above the mighty Alps (o'er the tempest's angry god + Careering on the avalanche) should be my bless'd abode. + There, where Nature lowers more wild + Than her most uncultured child, + Revels beauty--as one smiled + O'er life's darkest mood. + + Our aerial flight should be where eye hath never been, + O'er the stormy Polar deep, where the icy Alps are seen, + Where Death sits, crested high, + As he would invade the sky, + Whilst the living valleys lie + In their beautiful green! + + Spirit of the peaceful autumnal eve! + Child of enchantment! behind thee leave + Thy semblance mantled o'er me; + Too full thy tide of glory + For Fancy to restore thee, + Or Memory give! + + + + +THE MAIDEN FAIR. + + + The moon hung o'er the gay greenwood, + The greenwood o'er the mossy stream, + That roll'd in rapture's wildest mood, + And flutter'd in the fairy beam. + Through light clouds flash'd the fitful gleam + O'er hill and dell,--all Nature lay + Wrapp'd in enchantment, like the dream + Of her that charm'd my homeward way! + + Long had I mark'd thee, maiden fair! + And drunk of bliss from thy dark eye, + And still, to feed my fond despair, + Bless'd thy approach, and, passing by, + I turn'd me round to gaze and sigh, + In worship wild, and wish'd thee mine, + On that fair breast to live and die, + O'er-power'd with transport so divine! + + Still sacred be that hour to love, + And dear the season of its birth, + And fair the glade, and green the grove, + Its bowers ne'er droop in wintry dearth + Of melody and woodland mirth!-- + The hour, the spot, so dear to me! + That wean'd my soul from all on earth, + To be for ever bless'd in thee. + + + + +THE OLD BLIGHTED THORN. + + + All night, by the pathway that crosses the moor, + I waited on Mary, I linger'd till morn, + Yet thought her not false--she had ever been true + To her tryst by the old blighted thorn. + + I had heard of Love lighting to darken the heart, + Fickle, fleeting as wind and the dews of the morn; + Such were not my fears, though I sigh'd all night long, + And wept 'neath the old blighted thorn. + + The snows, that were deep, had awaken'd my dread, + I mark'd as footprints far below by the burn; + I sped to the valley--I found her deep sunk, + On her way to the old blighted thorn! + + I whisper'd, "My Mary!"--she spoke not: I caught + Her hand, press'd her pale cheek--'twas icy and cold; + Then sunk on her bosom--its throbbings were o'er-- + Nor knew how I quitted my hold. + + + + +THE WRECKED MARINER. + + + Stay, proud bird of the shore! + Carry my last breath with thee to the cliff, + Where waits our shatter'd skiff-- + One that shall mark nor it nor lover more. + + Fan with thy plumage bright + Her heaving heart to rest, as thou dost mine; + And, gently to divine + The tearful tale, flap out her beacon-light. + + Again swoop out to sea, + With lone and lingering wail--then lay thy head, + As thou thyself wert dead, + Upon her breast, that she may weep for me. + + Now let her bid false Hope + For ever hide her beam, nor trust again + The peace-bereaving strain-- + Life has, but still far hence, choice flowers to crop. + + Oh! bid not her repine, + And deem my loss too bitter to be borne, + Yet all of passion scorn + But the mild, deep'ning memory of mine. + + Thou art away, sweet wind! + Bear the last trickling tear-drop on thy wing, + And o'er her bosom fling + The love-fraught pearly shower till rest it find! + + + + +JOSEPH GRANT. + + +Joseph Grant, a short-lived poet and prose writer, was born on the farm +of Affrusk, parish of Banchory-Ternan, Kincardineshire, on the 26th of +May 1805. He was instructed in the ordinary branches at the parish +school, and employed as a youth in desultory labour about his father's +farm. From boyhood he cherished a passionate love for reading, and was +no less ardent in his admiration of the picturesque and beautiful in +nature. So early as his fourteenth year he composed verses of some +merit. In 1828, he published "Juvenile Lays," a collection of poems and +songs; and in 1830, "Kincardineshire Traditions"--a small volume of +ballads--both of which obtained a favourable reception. Desirous of +emanating from the retirement of his native parish, he accepted, in +1831, the situation of assistant to a shop-keeper in Stonehaven, and +soon afterwards proceeded to Dundee, where he was employed in the office +of the _Dundee Guardian_ newspaper, and subsequently as clerk to a +respectable writer. + +Grant furnished a series of tales and sketches for _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_. In 1834, he published a second small volume of "Poems and +Songs;" and subsequently, in the same year, committed to the press a +prose work, entitled "Tales of the Glens," which he did not, however, +survive to publish. After an illness of fifteen weeks, of a pulmonary +complaint, he died on the 14th April 1835, in his thirtieth year. His +remains were interred in the churchyard of Strachan, Kincardineshire, +where a tombstone, inscribed with some elegiac verses, has been erected +to his memory. The "Tales of the Glens" were published shortly after his +decease, under the editorial care of the late Mr James M'Cosh, of +Dundee, editor of the _Northern Warder_ newspaper; and, in 1836, an +edition of his collected works was published at Edinburgh, with a +biographical preface by the poet Nicol. + +Of a fine genius, a gentle and amiable nature, and pure Christian +sentiments, Grant afforded eminent promise, with a prolonged career, of +becoming an ornament to literature. Cut down in the bloom of youth, his +elegy has been recorded by the Brechin poet, Alexander Laing-- + + "A kinder, warmer heart than his + Was ne'er to minstrel given; + And kinder, holier sympathies + Ne'er sought their native heaven." + + + + +THE BLACKBIRD'S HYMN IS SWEET. + + + The blackbird's hymn is sweet + At fall of gloaming, + When slow, o'er grove and hill, + Night's shades are coming; + But there is a sound that far + More deeply moves us-- + The low sweet voice of her + Who truly loves us. + + Fair is the evening star + Rising in glory, + O'er the dark hill's brow, + Where mists are hoary; + But the star whose rays + The heart falls nearest, + Is the love-speaking eye + Of our heart's dearest. + + Oh, lonely, lonely is + The human bosom, + That ne'er has nursed the sweets + Of young Love's blossom! + The loveliest breast is like + A starless morning, + When clouds frown dark and cold, + And storms are forming. + + + + +LOVE'S ADIEU. + + + The e'e o' the dawn, Eliza, + Blinks over the dark green sea, + An' the moon 's creepin' down to the hill-tap, + Richt dim and drowsilie. + An' the music o' the mornin' + Is murmurin' alang the air; + Yet still my dowie heart lingers + To catch one sweet throb mair. + + We've been as blest, Eliza, + As children o' earth can be, + Though my fondest wish has been knit by + The bonds of povertie; + An' through life's misty sojourn, + That still may be our fa', + But hearts that are link'd for ever + Ha'e strength to bear it a'. + + The cot by the mutterin' burnie, + Its wee bit garden an' field, + May ha'e mair o' the blessin's o' Heaven + Than lichts o' the lordliest bield; + There 's many a young brow braided + Wi' jewels o' far-off isles, + But woe may be drinkin' the heart-springs, + While we see nought but smiles. + + But adieu, my ain Eliza! + Where'er my wanderin's be, + Undyin' remembrance will make thee + The star o' my destinie; + An' well I ken, thou loved one, + That aye, till I return, + Thou 'lt treasure pure faith in thy bosom, + Like a gem in a gowden urn. + + + + +DUGALD MOORE. + + +A poet of remarkable ingenuity and power, Dugald Moore was born in +Stockwell Street, Glasgow, in 1805. His father, who was a private +soldier in one of the Highland regiments, died early in life, leaving +his mother in circumstances of poverty. From his mother's private +tuition, he received the whole amount of his juvenile education. When a +child he was sent to serve as a tobacco-boy for a small pittance of +wages, and as a youth was received into the copper-printing branch of +the establishment of Messrs James Lumsden and Son, booksellers, Queen +Street. He very early began to write verses, and some of his +compositions having attracted the notice of Mr Lumsden, senior, that +benevolent gentleman afforded him every encouragement in the prosecution +of his literary tastes. Through Mr Lumsden's personal exertions in +procuring subscribers, he was enabled to lay before the public in 1829 a +volume of poems entitled "The African, a Tale, and other Poems." Of this +work a second edition was required in the following year, when he +likewise gave to the world a second volume, with the title "Scenes from +the Flood; the Tenth Plague, and other Poems." "The Bridal Night, and +other Poems," a volume somewhat larger than its predecessors, appeared +from his pen in 1831. The profits of these publications enabled him to +commence on his own account as a bookseller and stationer in the city. +His shop, No. 96 Queen Street, became the rendezvous of men of letters, +and many of the influential families gave its occupant the benefit of +their custom. + +In 1833, Moore published "The Bard of the North, a series of Poetical +Tales, illustrative of Highland Scenery and Character;" in 1835, "The +Hour of Retribution, and other Poems;" and in 1839, "The Devoted One, +and other Poems." He died unmarried, after a brief illness, on the 2d +January 1841, in his thirty-sixth year, leaving a competency for the +support of his aged mother. Buried in the Necropolis of the city, a +massive monument, surmounted by a bust, has been raised by his personal +friends in tribute to his memory. Though slightly known to fame, Moore +is entitled to rank among the most gifted of the modern national poets. +Possessed of a vigorous conception, a lofty fancy, intense energy of +feeling, and remarkable powers of versification, his poetry is +everywhere impressed with the most decided indications of genius. He has +chosen the grandest subjects, which he has adorned with the richest +illustration, and an imagery copious and sublime. Had he occupied his +Muse with themes less exalted, he might have enjoyed a wider temporary +popularity; as it is, his poems will find admirers in future times. + + + + +RISE, MY LOVE. + + + Rise, my love! the moon, unclouded, + Wanders o'er the dark blue sea; + Sleep the tyrant's eye has shrouded, + Hynda comes to set thee free! + Leave those vaults of pain and sorrow, + On the long and dreaming deep; + A bower will greet us ere to-morrow, + Where our eyes may cease to weep. + + Oh! some little isle of gladness, + Smiling in the waters clear, + Where the dreary tone of sadness + Never smote the lonely ear-- + Soon will greet us, and deliver + Souls so true, to freedom's plan; + Death may sunder us, but never + Tyrant's threats, nor fetters can. + + Then our lute's exulting numbers, + Unrestrain'd will wander on, + While the night has seal'd in slumbers, + Fair creation, all her own. + And we'll wed, while music stealeth + Through the starry fields above, + While each bounding spirit feeleth + All the luxury of love. + + Then we'll scorn oppression's minions, + All the despot's bolts and powers; + While Time wreathes his heavy pinions + With love's brightest passion-flowers. + Rise, then! let us fly together, + Now the moon laughs on the sea; + East or west, I care not whither, + When with love and liberty! + + + + +JULIA. + + + Born where the glorious star-lights trace + In mountain snows their silver face, + Where Nature, vast and rude, + Looks as if by her God design'd + To fill the bright eternal mind, + With her fair magnitude. + + Hers was a face, to which was given + Less portion of the earth than heaven, + As if each trait had stole + Its hue from Nature's shapes of light; + As if stars, flowers, and all things bright + Had join'd to form her soul. + + Her heart was young--she loved to breathe + The air which spins the mountain's wreath, + To wander o'er the wild, + To list the music of the deep, + To see the round stars on it sleep, + For she was Nature's child! + + Nursed where the soul imbibes the print + Of freedom--where nought comes to taint, + Or its warm feelings quell: + She felt love o'er her spirit driven, + Such as the angels felt in heaven, + Before they sinn'd and fell. + + Her mind was tutor'd from its birth, + From all that's beautiful on earth-- + Lights which cannot expire-- + From all their glory, she had caught + A lustre, till each sense seem'd fraught + With heaven's celestial fire. + + The desert streams familiar grown, + The stars had language of their own, + The hills contain'd a voice + With which she could converse, and bring + A charm from each insensate thing, + Which bade her soul rejoice. + + She had the feeling and the fire, + That fortune's stormiest blast could tire, + Though delicate and young; + Her bosom was not formed to bend-- + Adversity, that firmest friend, + Had all its fibres strung. + + Such was my love--she scorn'd to hide + A passion which she deem'd a pride! + Oft have we sat and view'd + The beauteous stars walk through the night, + And Cynthia lift her sceptre bright, + To curb old Ocean's mood. + + She'd clasp me as if ne'er to part, + That I might feel her beating heart-- + Might read her living eye; + Then pause! I've felt the pure tide roll + Through every vein, which to my soul, + Said--Nature could not lie. + + + + +LUCY'S GRAVE. + + + My spirit could its vigil hold + For ever at this silent spot; + But, ah! the heart within is cold, + The sleeper heeds me not: + The fairy scenes of love and youth, + The smiles of hope, the tales of truth, + By her are all forgot: + Her spirit with my bliss is fled-- + I only weep above the dead! + + I need not view the grassy swell, + Nor stone escutcheon'd fair; + I need no monument to tell + That thou art lying there: + I feel within, a world like this, + A fearful blank in all my bliss-- + An agonized despair, + Which paints the earth in cheerful bloom, + But tells me, thou art in the tomb! + + I knew Death's fatal power, alas + Could doom man's hopes to pine, + But thought that many a year would pass + Before he scatter'd mine! + Too soon he quench'd our morning rays, + Brief were our loves of early days-- + Brief as those bolts that shine + With beautiful yet transient form, + Round the dark fringes of the storm! + + I little thought, when first we met, + A few short months would see + Thy sun, before its noontide, set + In dark eternity! + While love was beaming from thy face, + A lover's eye but ill could trace + Aught that obscured its ray; + So calm its pain thy bosom bore, + I thought not death was at its core! + + The silver moon is shining now + Upon thy lonely bed, + Pale as thine own unblemish'd brow, + Cold as thy virgin head; + She seems to breathe of many a day + Now shrouded with thee in the clay, + Of visions that have fled, + When we beneath her holy flame, + Dream'd over hopes that never came! + + Hark! 'tis the solemn midnight bell, + It mars the hallow'd scene; + And must we bid again--farewell! + Must life still intervene? + Its charms are vain! my heart is laid + E'en with thine own, celestial maid! + A few short days have been + An age of pain--a few may be + A welcome passport, love! to thee. + + + + +THE FORGOTTEN BRAVE. + + + 'Tis finish'd, they 've died for their forefathers' land, + As the patriot sons of the mountain should die, + With the mail on each bosom, the sword in each hand, + On the heath of the desert they lie. + Like their own mountain eagles they rush'd to the fight, + Like the oaks of their deserts they braved its rude blast; + Their blades in the morning look'd dazzling and bright, + But red when the battle was past. + + They rush'd on, exulting in honour, and met + The foes of their country in battle array; + But the sun of their glory in darkness hath set, + And the flowers of the forest are faded away! + Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep, + No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near, + To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep, + Or drop o'er their ashes a tear. + + + + +THE FIRST SHIP. + + + The sky in beauty arch'd + The wide and weltering flood, + While the winds in triumph march'd + Through their pathless solitude-- + Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest, + That like space in darkness slept, + When his watch old Silence kept, + Ere the earliest planet leapt + From its breast. + + A speck is on the deeps, + Like a spirit in her flight; + How beautiful she keeps + Her stately path in light! + She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee-- + The sun has on her smiled, + And the waves, no longer wild, + Sing in glory round that child + Of the sea. + + 'Twas at the set of sun + That she tilted o'er the flood, + Moving like God alone + O'er the glorious solitude-- + The billows crouch around her as her slaves. + How exulting are her crew-- + Each sight to them is new, + As they sweep along the blue + Of the waves! + + Fair herald of the fleets + That yet shall cross the wave, + Till the earth with ocean meets + One universal grave, + What armaments shall follow thee in joy! + Linking each distant land + With trade's harmonious band, + Or bearing havoc's brand + To destroy! + + + + +WEEP NOT. + + + Though this wild brain is aching, + Spill not thy tears with mine; + Come to my heart, though breaking, + Its firmest half is thine. + Thou wert not made for sorrow, + Then do not weep with me; + There is a lovely morrow, + That yet will dawn on thee. + + When I am all forgotten-- + When in the grave I lie-- + When the heart that loved thee 's broken, + And closed the sparkling eye; + Love's sunshine still will cheer thee, + Unsullied, pure, and deep; + For the God who 's ever near thee, + Will never see thee weep. + + + + +TO THE CLYDE. + + + When cities of old days + But meet the savage gaze, + Stream of my early ways + Thou wilt roll. + Though fleets forsake thy breast, + And millions sink to rest-- + Of the bright and glorious west + Still the soul. + + When the porch and stately arch, + Which now so proudly perch + O'er thy billows, on their march + To the sea, + Are but ashes in the shower; + Still the jocund summer hour, + From his cloud will weave a bower + Over thee. + + When the voice of human power + Has ceased in mart and bower, + Still the broom and mountain flower + Will thee bless. + And the mists that love to stray + O'er the Highlands, far away, + Will come down their deserts gray + To thy kiss. + + And the stranger, brown with toil, + From the far Atlantic soil, + Like the pilgrim of the Nile, + Yet may come + To search the solemn heaps + That moulder by thy deeps, + Where desolation sleeps, + Ever dumb. + + Though fetters yet should clank + O'er the gay and princely rank + Of cities on thy bank, + All sublime; + Still thou wilt wander on, + Till eternity has gone, + And broke the dial stone + Of old Time. + + + + +REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON. + + +The author of the deservedly popular words and air of "The Araby Maid," +Thomas Gordon Torry Anderson was the youngest son of Patrick Torry, +D.D., titular bishop of St Andrews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane. His mother, +Jane Young, was the daughter of Dr William Young, of Fawsyde, +Kincardineshire. Born at Peterhead on the 9th July 1805, he received his +elementary education at the parish school of that place. He subsequently +prosecuted his studies in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and the +University of Edinburgh. In 1827, he received holy orders, and was +admitted to the incumbency of St John's Episcopal Church, Portobello. He +subsequently became assistant in St George's Episcopal Church, +Edinburgh, and was latterly promoted to the pastorate of St Paul's +Episcopal Church, Dundee. + +Devoted to the important duties of the clerical office, Mr Torry +Anderson experienced congenial recreation in the cultivation of music +and song, and in the occasional composition of both. He composed, in +1833, the words and air of "The Araby Maid," which speedily obtained a +wide popularity. The music and words of the songs, entitled "The +Maiden's Vow," and "I Love the Sea," were composed in 1837 and 1854, +respectively. To a work, entitled "Poetical Illustrations of the +Achievements of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions in Arms," +published in 1852, he extensively contributed. During the summer of +1855, he fell into bad health, and was obliged to resign his incumbency. +He afterwards resided on his estate of Fawsyde, to which he had +succeeded, in 1850, on the death of his uncle, Dr Young. He died at +Aberdeen on the 20th of June 1856, in his fifty-first year. He was three +times married--first, in 1828, to Mrs Gaskin Anderson of Tushielaw, +whose name he adopted to suit the requirements of an entail; secondly, +he espoused, in 1838, Elizabeth Jane, daughter of Dr Thomas Sutter, +R.N.; and lastly, Mrs Hill, widow of Mr William Hill, R.N., whom he +married in 1854. He has left a widow and six children. + + + + +THE ARABY MAID. + + + Away on the wings of the wind she flies, + Like a thing of life and light-- + And she bounds beneath the eastern skies, + And the beauty of eastern night. + + Why so fast flies the bark through the ocean's foam, + Why wings it so speedy a flight? + 'Tis an Araby maid who hath left her home, + To fly with her Christian knight. + + She hath left her sire and her native land, + The land which from childhood she trode, + And hath sworn, by the pledge of her beautiful hand, + To worship the Christian's God. + + Then away, away, oh swift be thy flight, + It were death one moment's delay; + For behind there is many a blade glancing bright-- + Then away--away--away! + + They are safe in the land where love is divine, + In the land of the free and the brave-- + They have knelt at the foot of the holy shrine, + Nought can sever them now but the grave. + + + + +THE MAIDEN'S VOW. + + + The maid is at the altar kneeling, + Hark the chant is loudly pealing-- + Now it dies away! + + Her prayers are said at the holy shrine, + No other thought but thought divine + Doth her sad bosom fill. + + The world to her is nothing now, + For she hath ta'en a solemn vow + To do her father's will. + + But why hath one so fair, so young, + The joys of life thus from her flung-- + Why hath she ta'en the veil? + + Her lover fell where the brave should fall, + Amidst the fight, when the trumpet's call + Proclaim'd the victory. + + He fought, he fell, a hero brave-- + And though he fill a lowly grave, + His name can never die. + + The victory's news to the maiden came-- + They loudly breathed her lover's name, + Who for his country fell. + + But vain the loudest trumpet tone + Of fame to her, when he was gone + To whom the praise was given! + + Her sun of life had set in gloom-- + Its joys were withered in his tomb-- + She vow'd herself to Heaven. + + + + +I LOVE THE SEA. + + + I love the sea, I love the sea, + My childhood's home, my manhood's rest, + My cradle in my infancy-- + The only bosom I have press'd. + I cannot breathe upon the land, + Its manners are as bonds to me, + Till on the deck again I stand, + I cannot feel that I am free. + + Then tell me not of stormy graves-- + Though winds be high, there let them roar; + I 'd rather perish on the waves + Than pine by inches on the shore. + I ask no willow where I lie, + My mourner let the mermaid be, + My only knell the sea-bird's cry, + My winding-sheet the boundless sea! + + + + +GEORGE ALLAN. + + +George Allan was the youngest son of John Allan, farmer at Paradykes, +near Edinburgh, where he was born on the 2d February 1806. Ere he had +completed his fourteenth year, he became an orphan by the death of both +his parents. Intending to prosecute his studies as a lawyer, he served +an apprenticeship in the office of a Writer to the Signet. He became a +member of that honourable body, but almost immediately relinquished +legal pursuits, and proceeded to London, resolved to commence the career +of a man of letters. In the metropolis his literary aspirations were +encouraged by Allan Cunningham and Mr and Mrs S. C. Hall. In 1829, he +accepted an appointment in Jamaica; but, his health suffering from the +climate of the West Indies, he returned in the following year. Shortly +after his arrival in Britain, he was fortunate in obtaining the +editorship of the _Dumfries Journal_, a respectable Conservative +newspaper. This he conducted with distinguished ability and success for +three years, when certain new arrangements, consequent on a change in +the proprietary, rendered his services unnecessary. A letter of Allan +Cunningham, congratulating him on his appointment as a newspaper editor, +is worthy of quotation, from its shrewd and sagacious counsels:-- + + "Study to fill your paper," writes Cunningham, "with + such agreeable and diversified matter as will allure + readers; correct intelligence, sprightly and elegant + paragraphs, remarks on men and manners at once free + and generous; and local intelligence pertaining to the + district, such as please men of the Nith in a far land. + These are the staple commodity of a newspaper, and + these you can easily have. A few literary paragraphs + you can easily scatter about; these attract + booksellers, and booksellers will give advertisements + where they find their works are noticed. Above all + things, write cautiously concerning all localities; if + you praise much, a hundred will grumble; if you are + severe, one only may complain, but twenty will shake + the head. You will have friends on one side of the + water desiring one thing, friends on the other side + desiring the reverse, and in seeking to please one you + vex ten. An honest heart, a clear head, and a good + conscience, will enable you to get well through all." + +On terminating his connexion with the _Dumfries Journal_, Allan +proceeded to Edinburgh, where he was immediately employed by the Messrs +Chambers as a literary assistant. In a letter addressed to a friend, +about this period, he thus expresses himself regarding his enterprising +employers:-- + + "They are never idle. Their very recreations are made conducive + to their business, and they go through their labours with a + spirit and cheerfulness, which shew how consonant these are with + their dispositions." "Mr Robert Chambers," he adds, "is the most + mild, unassuming, kind-hearted man I ever knew, and is perfectly + uneasy if he thinks there is any one uncomfortable about him. The + interest which he has shewn in my welfare has been beyond + everything I ever experienced, and the friendly yet delicate way + in which he is every other day asking me if I am all comfortable + at home, and bidding me apply to him when I am in want of + anything, equally puzzles me to understand or express due thanks + for." + +Besides contributing many interesting articles to _Chambers's Edinburgh +Journal_, and furnishing numerous communications to the _Scotsman_ +newspaper, Allan wrote a "Life of Sir Walter Scott," in an octavo +volume, which commanded a wide sale, and was much commended by the +public press. In preparing that elegant work, the "Original National +Melodies of Scotland," the ingenious editor, Mr Peter M'Leod, was +favoured by him with several songs, which he set forth in that +publication, with suitable music. In 1834, some of his relatives +succeeded, by political influence, in obtaining for him a subordinate +situation in the Stamp Office,--one which at once afforded him a certain +subsistence, and did not necessarily preclude the exercise of his +literary talents. But a constitutional weakness of the nervous system +did not permit of his long enjoying the smiles of fortune. He died +suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th August 1835, in his +thirtieth year. In October 1831, he had espoused Mrs Mary Hill, a widow, +eldest daughter of Mr William Pagan, of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan +Cunningham, who, with one of their two sons, still survives. Allan was a +man of singularly gentle and amiable dispositions, a pleasant companion, +and devoted friend. In person he was tall and rather thin, with a +handsome, intelligent countenance. An enthusiast in the concerns of +literature, it is to be feared that he cut short his career by +overstrained application. His verses are animated and vigorous, and are +largely imbued with the national spirit.[20] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] We are indebted to William Pagan, Esq. of Clayton, author of "Road +Reform," for much of the information contained in this memoir. Mr Pagan +kindly procured for our use the whole of Mr Allan's papers and MSS. + + + + +IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?[21] + + + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman? + Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever? + Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer, + Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair, + To give back our wrongs to the giver? + To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone, + Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on, + With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them, + And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them; + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen, + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + + +II.--(M'CRIMMAN.) + + Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom + As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now, + But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom, + And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow; + Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer, + And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there, + But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never-- + Never! Never! Never! + + +III.--(CLANSMEN.) + + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crimman? + Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not? + If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know + That the soul of M'Crimman ne'er quail'd when a foe + Bared his blade in the land he had won not! + Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind, + And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the wind, + There our broad pennon flies, and the keen steeds are prancing, + 'Mid the startling war-cries, and the war-weapons glancing, + Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray! + Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen; + Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray, + Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[21] In Blackie's "Book of Scottish Song," this song is attributed to +the Rev. George Allan, D.D. It is also inserted among the songs of the +Ettrick Shepherd, published by the Messrs Blackie. The latter blunder is +accounted for by the fact that a copy of the song, which was sent to the +Shepherd by Mr H. S. Riddell, as a specimen of Mr Allan's poetical +talents, had been found among his papers subsequent to his decease. This +song, with the two immediately following, appeared in M'Leod's "National +Melodies," but they are here transcribed from the author's MSS. + + + + +I WILL THINK OF THEE YET. + + + I will think of thee yet, though afar I may be, + In the land of the stranger, deserted and lone, + Though the flowers of this earth are all wither'd to me, + And the hopes which once bloom'd in my bosom are gone, + I will think of thee yet, and the vision of night + Will oft bring thine image again to my sight, + And the tokens will be, as the dream passes by, + A sigh from the heart and a tear from the eye. + + I will think of thee yet, though misfortune fall chill + O'er my path, as yon storm-cloud that lours on the lea, + And I'll deem that this life is worth cherishing still, + While I know that one heart still beats warmly for me. + Yes! Grief and Despair may encompass me round, + 'Till not e'en the shadow of peace can be found; + But mine anguish will cease when my thoughts turn to you + And the wild mountain land which my infancy knew. + + I will think of thee; oh! if I e'er can forget + The love that grew warm as all others grew cold, + 'Twill but be when the sun of my reason hath set, + Or memory fled from her care-haunted hold; + But while life and its woes to bear on is my doom, + Shall my love, like a flower in the wilderness, bloom; + And thine still shall be, as so long it hath been, + A light to my soul when no other is seen. + + + + +LASSIE, DEAR LASSIE. + + + Lassie, dear lassie, the dew 's on the gowan, + And the brier-bush is sweet whar the burnie is rowin', + But the best buds of Nature may blaw till they weary, + Ere they match the sweet e'e or the cheek o' my dearie! + + I wander alane, when the gray gloamin' closes, + And the lift is spread out like a garden o' roses; + But there 's nought which the earth or the sky can discover + Sae fair as thysell to thy fond-hearted lover! + + The snaw-flake is pure frae the clud when it 's shaken, + And melts into dew ere it fa's on the bracken, + Oh sae pure is the heart I hae won to my keepin'! + But warm as the sun-blink that thaw'd it to weepin'! + + Then come to my arms, and the bosom thou 'rt pressing + Will tell by its throbs a' there's joy in confessing, + For my lips could repeat it a thousand times over, + And the tale still seem new to thy fond-hearted lover. + + + + +WHEN I LOOK FAR DOWN ON THE VALLEY BELOW ME.[22] + + + When I look far down on the valley below me, + Where lowly the lot of the cottager's cast, + While the hues of the evening seem ling'ring to shew me + How calmly the sun of this life may be pass'd, + How oft have I wish'd that kind Heaven had granted + My hours in such spot to have peacefully run, + Where, if pleasures were few, they were all that I wanted, + And Contentment 's a blessing which wealth never won. + + I have mingled with mankind, and far I have wander'd, + Have shared all the joys youth so madly pursues; + I have been where the bounties of Nature were squander'd + Till man became thankless and learn'd to refuse! + Yet _there_ I still found that man's innocence perish'd, + As the senses might sway or the passions command; + That the scenes where alone the soul's treasures were cherish'd, + Were the peaceful abodes of my own native land. + + Then why should I leave this dear vale of my choice + And the friends of my bosom, so faithful and true, + To mix in the great world, whose jarring and noise + Must make my soul cheerless though sorrows were few? + Ah! too sweet would this life of probation be render'd, + Our feelings ebb back from Eternity's strand, + And the hopes of Elysium in vain would be tender'd, + Could we have all we wish'd in our dear native land. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[22] Printed, for the first time, from the author's MS. + + + + +I WILL WAKE MY HARP WHEN THE SHADES OF EVEN.[23] + + + I will wake my harp when the shades of even + Are closing around the dying day, + When thoughts that wear the hues of Heaven + Are weaning my heart from the world away; + And my strain will tell of a land and home + Which my wand'ring steps have left behind, + Where the hearts that throb and the feet that roam + Are free as the breath of their mountain wind. + + I will wake my harp when the star of Vesper + Hath open'd its eye on the peaceful earth, + When not a leaf is heard to whisper + That a dew-drop falls, or a breeze hath birth. + And you, dear friends of my youthful years, + Will oft be the theme of my lonely lay, + And a smile for the past will gild the tears + That tell how my heart is far away. + + I will wake my harp when the moon is holding + Her star-tent court in the midnight sky, + When the spirits of love, their wings unfolding, + Bring down sweet dreams to each fond one's eye. + And well may I hail that blissful hour, + For my spirit will then, from its thrall set free, + Return to my own lov'd maiden's bower, + And gather each sigh that she breathes for me. + + Thus, still when those pensive hours are bringing + The feelings and thoughts which no lips can tell, + I will charm each cloud from my soul by singing + Of all I have left and lov'd so well. + Oh! Fate may smile, and Sorrow may cease, + But the dearest hope we on earth can gain + Is to come, after long sad years, in peace, + And be join'd with the friends of our love, again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[23] Printed for the first time. + + + + +THOMAS BRYDSON. + + +Thomas Brydson was born in Glasgow in 1806. On completing the usual +course of study at the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, he became +a licentiate of the Established Church. He assisted in the Middle +Church, Greenock, and in the parish of Kilmalcolm, Renfrewshire, and +was, in 1839, ordained minister of Levern Chapel, near Paisley. In 1842, +he was translated to the full charge of Kilmalcolm, where he continued +to minister with much acceptance till his death, which took place +suddenly on the 28th January 1855. + +A man of fine fancy and correct taste, Mr Brydson was, in early life, +much devoted to poetical composition. In 1829, he published a duodecimo +volume of "Poems;" and a more matured collection of his poetical pieces +in 1832, under the title of "Pictures of the Past." He contributed, in +prose and verse, to the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_; the _Republic of +Letters_, a Glasgow publication; and some of the London annuals. Though +fond of correspondence with his literary friends, and abundantly +hospitable, he latterly avoided general society, and, in a great +measure, confined himself to his secluded parish of Kilmalcolm. Among +his parishioners he was highly esteemed for the unction and fervour +which distinguished his public ministrations, as well as for the +gentleness of his manners and the generosity of his heart. Of domestic +animals he was devotedly fond. He took delight in pastoral scenery, and +in solitary musings among the hills. His poetry is pervaded by elegance +of sentiment and no inconsiderable vigour of expression. + + + + +ALL LOVELY AND BRIGHT. + + + All lovely and bright, 'mid the desert of time, + Seem the days when I wander'd with you, + Like the green isles that swell in this far distant clime, + On the deeps that are trackless and blue. + + And now, while the torrent is loud on the hill, + And the howl of the forest is drear, + I think of the lapse of our own native rill-- + I think of thy voice with a tear. + + The light of my taper is fading away, + It hovers, and trembles, and dies; + The far-coming morn on her sea-paths is gray, + But sleep will not come to mine eyes. + + Yet why should I ponder, or why should I grieve + O'er the joys that my childhood has known? + We may meet, when the dew-flowers are fragrant at eve, + As we met in the days that are gone. + + + + +CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY. + + +Though a native of Ireland, Charles Doyne Sillery has some claim to +enrolment among the minstrels of Caledonia. His mother was a +Scotchwoman, and he was himself brought up and educated in Edinburgh. He +was born at Athlone, in Ireland, on the 2d of March 1807. His father, +who bore the same Christian and middle names, was a captain of the Royal +Artillery.[24] He distinguished himself in the engagements of Talavera +on the 27th and 28th of July 1809; but from his fatigues died soon +after. His mother, Catherine Fyfe, was the youngest daughter of Mr +Barclay Fyfe, merchant in Leith. She subsequently became the wife of +James Watson, Esq., now of Tontley Hall, Berkshire. + +Of lively and playful dispositions, Sillery did not derive much +advantage from scholastic training. His favourite themes were poetry and +music, and these he assiduously cultivated, much to the prejudice of +other important studies. At a subsequent period he devoted himself with +ardour to his improvement in general knowledge. He read extensively, and +became conversant with the ancient and some of the modern languages. +Disappointed in obtaining a commission in the Royal Artillery, on which +he had calculated, he proceeded to India as midshipman in a merchant +vessel. Conceiving a dislike to a seafaring life, after a single voyage, +he entered on the study of medicine in the University of Edinburgh. From +early youth he composed verses. In 1829, while only in his twenty-second +year, he published, by subscription, a poem, in nine cantos, entitled +"Vallery; or, the Citadel of the Lake." This production, which refers to +the times of Chivalry, was well received; and, in the following year, +the author ventured on the publication of a second poem, in two books, +entitled "Eldred of Erin." In the latter composition, which is pervaded +by devotional sentiment, the poet details some of his personal +experiences. In 1834 he published, in a small duodecimo volume, "The +Exiles of Chamouni; a Drama," a production which received only a limited +circulation. About the same period, he became a contributor of verses to +the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. He ultimately undertook the editorial +superintendence of a religious periodical. + +Delicate in constitution, and of a highly nervous temperament, Sillery +found the study of medicine somewhat uncongenial, and had formed the +intention of qualifying himself for the Church. He calculated on early +ecclesiastical preferment through the favour of Her Majesty Queen +Adelaide, to whom he had been presented, and who had evinced some +interest on his behalf. But his prospects were soon clouded by the slow +but certain progress of an insidious malady. He was seized with +pulmonary consumption, and died at Edinburgh on the 16th May 1836, in +his twenty-ninth year. + +Of sprightly and winning manners, Sillery was much cherished in the +literary circles of the capital. He was of the ordinary height, and of +an extremely slender figure; and his eye, remarkably keen and piercing, +was singularly indicative of power. Poetry, in its every department, he +cherished with the devotion of an enthusiast; and though sufficiently +modest on the subject of his own poetical merits, he took delight in +singing his own songs. Interested in the history of the Middle Ages, he +had designed to publish an "Account of Ancient Chivalry." Latterly, his +views were more concentrated on the subject of religion. Shortly before +his death, he composed a "Discourse on the Sufferings of Christ," the +proof-sheets of which he corrected on his deathbed. As a poet, with more +advanced years, he would have obtained a distinguished place. With +occasional defects, the poem of "Vallery" is possessed of much boldness +of imagery, and force and elegance of expression. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[24] Captain Doyne Sillery was born in Drogheda, Ireland, of which place +his father was mayor during the Rebellion of 1798, and where he +possessed considerable property. He was descended from one of the most +ancient and illustrious families in France, of which the representative +took refuge in England during the infamous persecution of the +Protestants in the sixteenth century. On the reduction of priestly power +in Ireland by Cromwell, the family settled in that portion of the United +Kingdom. The family name was originally Brulart. Nicolas Brulart, +Marquis de Sillery, Lord de Pinsieux, de Marinis, and de Berny, acquired +much reputation from the many commissions in which he served in France. +(See "L'Histoire Genealogique et Chronologique des Chanceliers de +France," tom. vi. p. 524). On the maternal side Captain Sillery was +lineally descended from Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, the famous +chancellor. + + + + +SHE DIED IN BEAUTY. + + + She died in beauty! like a rose + Blown from its parent stem; + She died in beauty! like a pearl + Dropp'd from some diadem. + + She died in beauty! like a lay + Along a moonlit lake; + She died in beauty! like the song + Of birds amid the brake. + + She died in beauty! like the snow + On flowers dissolved away; + She died in beauty! like a star + Lost on the brow of day. + + She _lives_ in glory! like night's gems + Set round the silver moon; + She lives in glory! like the sun + Amid the blue of June! + + + + +THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS. + + + Let the proud Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, + His pastures of perfume, and rose-cover'd dells; + While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain, + For brave is the chieftain your prowess who quells, + And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain, + That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming, + And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells, + And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming + On blue-bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue-bells. + + Awake! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather, + Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells-- + Come forth with your chorus, all chanting together-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, + The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, + And shout in the chorus for ever and ever-- + The blue-bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue-bells. + + + + +ROBERT MILLER. + + +Robert Miller, the author of the two following songs, was a native of +Glasgow, and was educated for the legal profession. He contributed +verses to the periodicals, but did not venture on any separate +publication. He died at Glasgow, in September 1834, at the early age of +twenty-four. His "Lay of the Hopeless" was written within a few days of +his decease. + + + + +WHERE ARE THEY? + + + The loved of early days! + Where are they?--where? + Not on the shining braes, + The mountains bare;-- + Not where the regal streams + Their foam-bells cast-- + Where childhood's time of dreams + And sunshine pass'd. + + Some in the mart, and some + In stately halls, + With the ancestral gloom + Of ancient walls; + Some where the tempest sweeps + The desert waves; + Some where the myrtle weeps + On Roman graves. + + And pale young faces gleam + With solemn eyes; + Like a remember'd dream + The dead arise; + In the red track of war + The restless sweep; + In sunlit graves afar + The loved ones sleep. + + The braes are dight with flowers, + The mountain streams + Foam past me in the showers + Of sunny gleams; + But the light hearts that cast + A glory there, + In the rejoicing past, + Where are they?--where? + + + + +LAY OF THE HOPELESS. + + + Oh! would that the wind that is sweeping now + O'er the restless and weary wave, + Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough + O'er the calm of my early grave-- + And my heart with its pulses of fire and life, + Oh! would it were still as stone. + I am weary, weary, of all the strife, + And the selfish world I 've known. + + I 've drunk up bliss from a mantling cup, + When youth and joy were mine; + But the cold black dregs are floating up, + Instead of the laughing wine; + And life hath lost its loveliness, + And youth hath spent its hour, + And pleasure palls like bitterness, + And hope hath not a flower. + + And love! was it not a glorious eye + That smiled on my early dream? + It is closed for aye, where the long weeds sigh, + In the churchyard by the stream: + And fame--oh! mine were gorgeous hopes + Of a flashing and young renown: + But early, early the flower-leaf drops + From the withering seed-cup down. + + And beauty! have I not worshipp'd all + Her shining creations well? + The rock--the wood--the waterfall, + Where light or where love might dwell. + But over all, and on my heart, + The mildew hath fallen sadly, + I have no spirit, I have no part + In the earth that smiles so gladly! + + I only sigh for a quiet bright spot + In the churchyard by the stream, + Whereon the morning sunbeams float, + And the stars at midnight dream; + Where only Nature's sounds may wake + The sacred and silent air, + And only her beautiful things may break + Through the long grass gathering there. + + + + +ALEXANDER HUME. + + +Alexander Hume was born at Kelso on the 1st of February 1809. His +father, Walter Hume, occupied a respectable position as a retail trader +in that town. Of the early history of our author little has been +ascertained. His first teacher was Mr Ballantyne of Kelso, a man +somewhat celebrated in his vocation. To his early preceptor's kindness +of heart, Hume frequently referred with tears. While under Mr +Ballantyne's scholastic superintendence, his love of nature first became +apparent. After school hours it was his delight to wander by the banks +of the Tweed, or reclining on its brink, to listen to the music of its +waters. From circumstances into which we need not inquire, his family +was induced to remove from Kelso to London. The position they occupied +we have not learned; but young Hume is remembered as being a quick, +intelligent, and most affectionate boy, eager, industrious, +self-reliant, and with an occasional dash of independence that made him +both feared and loved. He might have been persuaded to adopt almost any +view, but an attempt at coercion only excited a spirit of antagonism. To +use an old and familiar phrase, "he might break, but he would not bend." + +About this period (1822 or 1823), when irritated by those who had +authority over him, he suddenly disappeared from home, and allied +himself to a company of strolling players, with whom he associated for +several months. He had an exquisite natural voice, and sung the melting +melodies of Scotland in a manner seldom equalled. With the itinerant +manager he was a favourite, because he was fit for anything--tragedy, +comedy, farce, a hornpipe, and, if need be, a comic song, in which +making faces at the audience was an indispensable accomplishment. His +greatest hit, we are told, was in the absurdly extravagant song, "I am +such a Beautiful Boy;" when he used to say that in singing one verse, he +opened his mouth so wide that he had difficulty in closing it; but it +appears he had neither difficulty nor reluctance in closing his +engagement. Getting tired of his new profession, and disgusted with his +associates, poorly clad and badly fed, he slipped away when his +companions were fast asleep, and returned to London. Here, weary and +footsore, he presented himself to a relative, who received him kindly, +and placed him in a position where by industry he might provide for his +necessities. + +In 1827, he obtained a situation with Forbes & Co. of Mark Lane, the +highly respectable agents for Berwick & Co. of Edinburgh, the celebrated +brewers of Scotch ale. His position being one of considerable +responsibility, he was obliged to find security in the sum of L500, +which he obtained from the relative who had always stood his friend. But +such was his probity and general good conduct, that his employers +cancelled the security, and returned the bond as a mark of their +appreciation of his integrity and worth. + +About this period it was that he first gave utterance to his feelings in +verse. Impulsive and impassioned naturally, his first strong attachment +roused the deepest feelings of the man, and awoke the dormant passion of +the poet. The non-success of his first wooing only made his song the +more vehement for a while, but as no flame can burn intensely for ever, +his love became more subdued, and his song gradually assumed that +touching pathos which has ever characterised the best lyrics of +Scotland. + +Some time between the years 1830 and 1833, he became a member of the +Literary and Scientific Institution, Aldersgate Street, where he made +the acquaintance of many kindred spirits, young men of the same standing +as himself, chiefly occupied in the banks, offices, and warehouses of +the city of London. There they had classes established for the study of +history, for the discussion of philosophical and literary subjects, and +for the practice of elocution. The recitations of the several members +awoke the embers that smouldered in his heart from the time he had left +the stage. His early experience had made him acquainted with the manner +in which the voice ought to be modulated to make the utterance +effective; and although he seldom ventured to recite, he was always a +fair critic and a deeply interested auditor. The young ambition of a few +had led them to aspire to authorship, and they established a monthly +magazine. Although the several articles were not of the highest order, +they were, nevertheless, quite equal to the average periodical writings +of the day. In this magazine it is believed that Hume published his +first song. It had been sent in the ordinary way, signed _Daft Wattie_, +and the editor, not appreciating the northern dialect in which it was +written, had tossed it aside. Shortly afterwards, one of the managers on +turning over the rejected papers was attracted by the verses, read them, +and was charmed. He placed them back in the editor's box, certifying +them as fit for publication by writing across them, + + "Musical as is Apollo's lute," + +to which he signed his name, William Raine. This circumstance soon led +to an intimate acquaintance with Mr Raine, who was a man of considerable +original power, excellent education, and of a social and right manly +nature. This new acquaintance coloured the whole of Hume's future life. +They became fast friends, and were inseparable. The imagination of Hume +was restrained by the acute judgment and critical ability of Mr Raine. +When Hume published his first volume of "Songs," it would perhaps be +difficult to determine whether their great success and general +popularity resulted from the poet whose name they bore, or from the +friend who weighed and suggested corrections in almost every song, until +they finally came before the public in a collected form. The volume was +dedicated to Allan Cunningham, and in the preface he says: "I composed +them by no rules excepting those which my own observation and feelings +formed; I knew no other. As I thought and felt, so have I written. Of +all poetical compositions, songs, especially those of the affections, +should be natural, warm gushes of feeling--brief, simple, and condensed. +As soon as they have left the singer's lips, they should be fast around +the hearer's heart." + +In 1837, Hume married Miss Scott, a lady well calculated to attract the +eye and win the heart of a poet. He remained connected with the house of +Berwick & Co. until 1840, when, to recover his health, which had been +failing for some time, he was advised to visit America, where he +travelled for several months. On his return to England, he entered into +an engagement with the Messrs Lane of Cork, then the most eminent +brewers in the south of Ireland. To this work he devoted himself with +great energy, and was duly rewarded for his labour by almost immediate +success. The article he sold became exceedingly popular in the +metropolis; nor was he disappointed in the hope of realising +considerable pecuniary advantages. + +For several years he had written very little. The necessity to make +provision for a rapidly increasing family, and the ambition to take a +high position in the business he had chosen, occupied his every hour, +and became with him a passion as strong as had ever moved him in works +of the imagination. + +In 1847 there were slight indications of a return of the complaint from +which he had suffered in 1840, and he again crossed the Atlantic. +Although he returned considerably improved in health, he was by no means +well. Fortunately he had secured the services of a Mr Macdonald as an +assistant in his business, whose exertions in his interest were +unremitting. Mr Hume's health gradually declined, and ultimately +incapacitated him for the performance of any commercial duty. In May +1851 he died at Northampton, leaving a widow and six children. + +As a song writer, Hume is entitled to an honourable place among those +authors whose writings have been technically called "the Untutored Muse +of Scotland." His style is eminently graceful, and a deep and genuine +pathos pervades his compositions. We confidently predict that some of +his lyrics are destined to obtain a lasting popularity. In 1845, a +complete edition of his "Songs and Poems" was published at London in a +thin octavo volume. + + + + +MY WEE, WEE WIFE. + +AIR--_"The Boatie Rows."_ + + + My wee wife dwells in yonder cot, + My bonnie bairnies three; + Oh! happy is the husband's lot, + Wi' bairnies on his knee. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three; + How bright is day how sweet is life! + When love lights up the e'e. + + The king o'er me may wear a crown, + Have millions bow the knee, + But lacks he love to share his throne, + How poor a king is he! + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + Let kings ha'e thrones, 'mang warld's strife, + Your hearts are thrones to me. + + I 've felt oppression's galling chain, + I 've shed the tear o' care, + But feeling aye lost a' its pain, + When my wee wife was near. + My wee, wee wife, my wee, wee wife, + My bonnie bairnies three, + The chains we wear are sweet to bear, + How sad could we go free! + + + + +O POVERTY! + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + Eliza was a bonnie lass, and oh! she lo'ed me weel, + Sic love as canna find a tongue, but only hearts can feel; + But I was poor, her faither doure, he wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I went unto her mother, and I argued and I fleech'd, + I spak o' love and honesty, and mair and mair beseech'd; + But she was deaf to a' my grief, she wadna look on me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + I next went to her brother, and I painted a' my pain, + I told him o' our plighted troth, but it was a' in vain; + Though he was deep in love himsel', nae feeling he'd for me; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + Oh! wealth it makes the fool a sage, the knave an honest man, + And canker'd gray locks young again, if he has gear and lan'; + To age maun beauty ope her arms, though wi' a tearfu' e'e; + O poverty! O poverty! that love should bow to thee. + + But wait a wee, oh! love is slee, and winna be said nay, + It breaks a' chains, except its ain, but it will ha'e its way; + In spite o' fate we took the gate, now happy as can be; + O poverty! O poverty! we're wed in spite o' thee. + + + + +NANNY. + +AIR--_"Fee him, Father."_ + + + There 's mony a flower beside the rose, + And sweets beside the honey; + But laws maun change ere life disclose + A flower or sweet like Nanny. + Her e'e is like the summer sun, + When clouds can no conceal it, + Ye 're blind if it ye look upon, + Oh! mad if ere ye feel it. + + I 've mony bonnie lassies seen, + Baith blithesome, kind, an' canny; + But oh! the day has never been + I 've seen another Nanny! + She 's like the mavis in her sang, + Amang the brakens bloomin', + Her lips ope to an angel's tongue, + But kiss her, oh! she's woman. + + + + +MY BESSIE. + +AIR--_"The Posie."_ + + + My Bessie, oh! but look upon these bonnie budding flowers, + Oh! do they no remember ye o' mony happy hours, + When on this green and gentle hill we aften met to play, + An' ye were like the morning sun, an' life a nightless day? + + The gowans blossom'd bonnilie, I 'd pu' them from the stem, + An' rin in noisy blithesomeness to thee, my Bess, wi' them, + To place them in thy lily breast, for ae sweet smile on me, + I saw nae mair the gowans then, then saw I only thee. + + Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew, + An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you; + How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck, + An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak! + + We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays, + An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes; + But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet, + Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet. + + Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth, + In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth? + The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree, + Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me! + + + + +MENIE HAY. + +AIR--_"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."_ + + + A wee bird sits upon a spray, + And aye it sings o' Menie Hay, + The burthen o' its cheery lay + Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay! + Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + There 's not a bonnie flower in May + Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay." + + A light in yonder window 's seen, + And wi' it seen is Menie Hay; + Wha gazes on the dewy green, + Where sits the bird upon the spray? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Fair I trow, O Menie Hay! + At sic a time, in sic a way, + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + + "What seek ye there, my daughter dear? + What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?" + "Dear mother, but the stars sae clear + Around the bonnie Milky Way." + "Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + Ye something see ye daurna say, + Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!" + + The window 's shut, the light is gane, + And wi' it gane is Menie Hay; + But wha is seen upon the green, + Kissing sweetly Menie Hay? + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + For ane sae young ye ken the way, + And far from blate, O Menie Hay!" + + "Gae scour the country, hill and dale; + Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay? + Search ilka nook, in town or vale, + For my daughter, Menie Hay." + "Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay! + Slee I trow, O Menie Hay! + I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay, + O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay." + + + + +I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL. + + + I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, + Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale; + But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me-- + The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee. + + The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom-- + The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom; + But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea, + Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand, + When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand; + The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free, + Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun, + I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone; + Ye smiled in look, but no in heart--your heart was no for me; + Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee. + + + + +OH! YEARS HAE COME. + + + Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane, + Sin' first I sought the warld alane, + Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + But oh! behold the present gloom, + My early friends are in the tomb, + And nourish now the heather bloom + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + My father's name, my father's lot, + Is now a tale that 's heeded not, + Or sang unsung, if no forgot + On the hills o' Caledonia. + O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane-- + A' swept away, like snaw lang gane; + Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high, + The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by, + Like some sad heart maist grutten dry + On the hills o' Caledonia. + The wee birds sing no frae the tree, + The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea, + As if the kind things pitied me + On the hills o' Caledonia. + + But friends can live, though cold they lie, + An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh, + When we forget them, then they die + On the hills o' Caledonia. + An' howsoever changed the scene, + While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green, + Still green to my auld heart an' e'en + Are the hills o' Caledonia. + + + + +MY MOUNTAIN HAME. + +AIR--_"Gala Water."_ + + My mountain hame, my mountain hame! + My kind, my independent mother; + While thought and feeling rule my frame, + Can I forget the mountain heather? + Scotland dear! + + I love to hear your daughters dear + The simple tale in song revealing, + Whene'er your music greets my ear + My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling-- + Scotland dear! + + Though I to other lands may gae, + Should Fortune's smile attend me thither, + I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may, + And look again on the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + When I maun die, oh! I would lie + Where life and me first met together; + That my cauld clay, through its decay, + Might bloom again in the mountain heather-- + Scotland dear! + + + + +THOMAS SMIBERT. + + +A poet and indefatigable prose-writer, Thomas Smibert was born in +Peebles on the 8th February 1810. Of his native town his father held for +a period the office of chief magistrate. With a view of qualifying +himself for the medical profession, he became apprentice to an +apothecary, and afterwards attended the literary and medical classes in +the University of Edinburgh. Obtaining licence as a surgeon, he +commenced practice in the village of Inverleithen, situated within six +miles of his native town. He was induced to adopt this sphere of +professional labour from an affection which he had formed for a young +lady in the vicinity, who, however, did not recompense his devotedness, +but accepted the hand of a more prosperous rival. Disappointed in love, +and with a practice scarcely yielding emolument sufficient to pay the +annual rent of his apothecary's store, he left Inverleithen after the +lapse of a year, and returned to Peebles. He now began to turn his +attention to literature, and was fortunate in procuring congenial +employment from the Messrs Chambers, as a contributor to their popular +_Journal_. Of this periodical he soon attained the position of +sub-editor; and in evidence of the indefatigable nature of his services +in this literary connexion, it is worthy of record that, during the +period intervening between 1837 and 1842, he contributed to the +_Journal_ no fewer than five hundred essays, one hundred tales, and +about fifty biographical sketches. Within the same period he edited a +new edition of Paley's "Natural Theology," with scientific notes, and +wrote extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, entitled +"Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the +sub-editorship of the _Scotsman_ newspaper. The bequest of a relative +afterwards enabled him to relinquish stated literary occupation, but he +continued to exhibit to the world pleasing evidences of his learning and +industry. He became a frequent contributor to _Hogg's Instructor_, an +Edinburgh weekly periodical; produced a work on "Greek History;" and +collated a "Rhyming Dictionary." A large, magnificently illustrated +volume, the "Clans of the Highlands of Scotland," was his most ambitious +and successful effort as a prose-writer. His poetical compositions, +which were scattered among a number of the periodicals, he was induced +to collect and publish in a volume, with the title, "Io Anche! Poems +chiefly Lyrical;" Edinburgh, 1851, 12mo. An historical play from his +pen, entitled "Conde's Wife," founded on the love of Henri Quatre for +Marguerite de Montmorency, whom the young Prince of Conde had wedded, +was produced in 1842 by Mr Murray in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, and +during a run of nine nights was received with applause. + +Smibert died at Edinburgh on the 16th January 1854, in his forty-fourth +year. With pleasing manners, he was possessed of kindly dispositions, +and was much cherished for his intelligent and interesting conversation. +In person he was strong built, and his complexion was fair and ruddy. He +was not undesirous of reputation both as a poet and prose-writer, and +has recorded his regret that he had devoted so much time to evanescent +periodical literature. His poetry is replete with patriotic sentiment, +and his strain is forcible and occasionally brilliant. His songs +indicate a fine fancy and deep pathos. + + + + +THE SCOTTISH WIDOW'S LAMENT. + + + Afore the Lammas tide + Had dun'd the birken-tree, + In a' our water side + Nae wife was bless'd like me. + A kind gudeman, and twa + Sweet bairns were 'round me here, + But they're a' ta'en awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Sair trouble cam' our gate, + And made me, when it cam', + A bird without a mate, + A ewe without a lamb. + Our hay was yet to maw, + And our corn was to shear, + When they a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I downa look a-field, + For aye I trow I see + The form that was a bield + To my wee bairns and me; + But wind, and weet, and snaw, + They never mair can fear, + Sin' they a' got the ca' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Aft on the hill at e'ens, + I see him 'mang the ferns-- + The lover o' my teens, + The faither o' my bairns; + For there his plaid I saw, + As gloamin' aye drew near, + But my a's now awa' + Sin' the fa' o' the year. + + Our bonnie rigs theirsel', + Reca' my waes to mind; + Our puir dumb beasties tell + O' a' that I hae tyned; + For wha our wheat will saw, + And wha our sheep will shear, + Sin' my a' gaed awa' + In the fa' o' the year? + + My hearth is growing cauld, + And will be caulder still, + And sair, sair in the fauld + Will be the winter's chill; + For peats were yet to ca', + Our sheep they were to smear, + When my a' passed awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + I ettle whiles to spin, + But wee, wee patterin' feet + Come rinnin' out and in, + And then I just maun greet; + I ken it 's fancy a', + And faster rows the tear, + That my a' dwined awa' + In the fa' o' the year. + + Be kind, O Heaven abune! + To ane sae wae and lane, + And tak' her hamewards sune + In pity o' her maen. + Lang ere the March winds blaw, + May she, far far frae here, + Meet them a' that's awa + Sin' the fa' o' the year! + + + + +THE HERO OF ST JOHN D'ACRE.[25] + + + Once more on the broad-bosom'd ocean appearing + The banner of England is spread to the breeze, + And loud is the cheering that hails the uprearing + Of glory's loved emblem, the pride of the seas. + No tempest shall daunt her, + No victor-foe taunt her, + What manhood can do in her cause shall be done-- + Britannia's best seaman, + The boast of her freemen, + Will conquer or die by his colours and gun. + + On Acre's proud turrets an ensign is flying, + Which stout hearts are banded till death to uphold; + And bold is their crying, and fierce their defying, + When trench'd in their ramparts, unconquer'd of old. + But lo! in the offing, + To punish their scoffing, + Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done; + No danger can stay him, + No foeman dismay him, + He conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled, + Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone; + The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled, + And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John. + But Napier now tenders + To Acre's defenders + The aid of a friend when the combat is won; + For mercy's sweet blossom + Blooms fresh in his bosom, + Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun. + + "All hail to the hero!" his country is calling, + And "hail to his comrades!" the faithful and brave, + They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling, + But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave. + And long may the ocean, + In calm and commotion, + Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won, + And when foes would wound us + May Napier be round us, + To conquer or die by their colours and gun! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[25] Admiral Sir Charles Napier. + + + + +OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES. + + + Oh! bonnie are the howes + And sunny are the knowes + That feed the kye and yowes + Where my life's morn dawn'd; + And brightly glance the rills + That spring amang the hills + And ca' the merry mills + In my ain dear land. + + But now I canna see + The lammies on the lea, + Nor hear the heather bee + On this far, far strand. + I see nae father's ha', + Nae burnie's waterfa', + But wander far awa' + Frae my ain dear land. + + My heart was free and light, + My ingle burning bright, + When ruin cam' by night + Through a foe's fell hand. + I left my native air, + I gaed to come nae mair; + And now I sorrow sair + For my ain dear land. + + But blithely will I bide + Whate'er may yet betide + When ane is by my side + On this far, far strand. + My Jean will soon be here + This waefu' heart to cheer, + And dry the fa'ing tear + For my ain dear land. + + + + +OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'. + + + Oh! say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + The dreaded hour that parts us twa + Of peace and hope will reave me. + + When you to distant shores are gane + How could I bear to tarry, + Where ilka tree and ilka stane + Would mind me o' my Mary? + + I couldna wander near yon woods + That saw us oft caressing, + And on our heads let fa' their buds + In earnest o' their blessing. + + Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd + Its half-o'erspreading heather, + And how we lo'ed the least the best + That made us creep thegither. + + I couldna bide, when you are gane, + My ain, my winsome dearie, + I couldna stay to pine my lane-- + I live but when I 'm near ye. + + Then say na you maun gang awa', + Oh! say na you maun leave me; + For ah! the hour that parts us twa + Of life itself will reave me. + + + + +JOHN BETHUNE. + + +The younger of two remarkable brothers, whose names are justly entitled +to remembrance, John Bethune, was born at the Mount, in the parish of +Monimail, Fifeshire, during the summer of 1810. The poverty of his +parents did not permit his attendance at a public school; he was taught +reading by his mother, and writing and arithmetic by his brother +Alexander,[26] who was considerably his senior. After some years' +employment as a cow-herd, he was necessitated, in his twelfth year, to +break stones on the turnpike-road. At the recommendation of a comrade, +he apprenticed himself, early in 1824, to a weaver in a neighbouring +village. In his new profession he rapidly acquired dexterity, so that, +at the end of one year, he could earn the respectable weekly wages of +fifteen shillings. Desirous of assisting his aged parents, he now +purchased a loom and settled as a weaver on his own account, with his +elder brother as his apprentice. A period of mercantile embarrassments +which followed, severely affecting the manufacturing classes, pressed +heavily on the subject of this notice; his earnings became reduced to +six shillings weekly, and he was obliged to exchange the labours of the +shuttle for those of the implements of husbandry. During the period of +his apprenticeship, his thoughts had been turned to poetical +composition, but it was subsequent to the commercial disasters of 1825 +that he began earnestly to direct his attention towards the concerns of +literature. Successive periods of bad health unfitting him for continued +labour in the fields, were improved by extensive reading and +composition. Before he had completed his nineteenth year he had produced +upwards of twenty poetical compositions, each of considerable length, +and the whole replete with power, both of sentiment and expression. Till +considerably afterwards, however, his literary productions were only +known to his brother Alexander, or at furthest to his parents. "Up to +the latter part of 1835," writes his brother in a biographical sketch, +"the whole of his writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had +been a crime punishable by law. There being but one apartment in the +house, it was his custom to write by the fire, with an old copy-book, +upon which his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through life, +was his only writing-desk. On the table, which was within reach, an old +newspaper was kept constantly lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any +one were heard approaching the door, copy-book, pens, and ink-stand +were thrust under this covering, and before the visitor came in, he had, +in general, a book in his hand, and appeared to have been reading." + +For a number of years Bethune had wrought as a day-labourer in the +grounds of Inchrye, in the vicinity of his birthplace. On the death of +the overseer on that property he was appointed his successor, entering +on the duties at the term of Martinmas 1835, his brother accompanying +him as his assistant. The appointment yielded L26 yearly, with the right +of a cow's pasturage--emoluments which considerably exceeded the average +of his previous earnings. To the duties of his new situation he applied +himself with his wonted industry, still continuing to dedicate only his +evenings and the intervals of toil to literary occupation. But his +comparative prosperity was of short duration. During the summer +following his appointment at Inchrye the estate changed owners, and the +new proprietor dispensed with his services at the next term. In another +year the landlord required the little cottage at Lochend, occupied by +his parents. Undaunted by these reverses, John Bethune and his brother +summoned stout courage; they erected a cottage at Mount Pleasant, near +Newburgh, the walls being mostly reared by their own hands. The future +career of Bethune was chiefly occupied in literary composition. He +became a contributor to the _Scottish Christian Herald_, _Wilson's Tales +of the Borders_, and other serial publications. In 1838 appeared "Tales +and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," the mutual production of the +poet and his brother--a work which, published in Edinburgh, was well +received. A work on "Practical Economy," on which the brothers had +bestowed much pains, and which had received the favourable opinion of +persons of literary eminence, was published in May 1839, but failed to +attract general interest. This unhappy result deeply affected the health +of the poet, whose constitution had already been much shattered by +repeated attacks of illness. He was seized with a complaint which proved +the harbinger of pulmonary consumption. He died at Mount Pleasant on the +1st September 1839, in his thirtieth year. + +With a more lengthened career, John Bethune would have attained a high +reputation, both as an interesting poet and an elegant prose-writer. His +genius was versatile and brilliant; of human nature, in all its +important aspects, he possessed an intuitive perception, and he was +practically familiar with the character and habits of the sons of +industry. His tales are touching and simple; his verses lofty and +contemplative. In sentiment eminently devotional, his life was a model +of genuine piety. His Poems, prefaced by an interesting Memoir, were +published by his surviving brother in 1840; and from the profits of a +second edition, published in the following year, a monument has been +erected over his grave in the churchyard of Abdie. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[26] Alexander Bethune, the elder brother of the poet, and his constant +companion and coadjutor in literary work, was born at Upper Rankeillor, +in the parish of Monimail, in July 1804. His education was limited to a +few months' attendance at a subscription school in his sixth year, with +occasional lessons from his parents. Like his younger brother, he +followed the occupation of a labourer, frequently working in the quarry +or breaking stones on the public road. Early contracting a taste for +literature, his leisure hours were devoted to reading and composition. +In 1835, several of his productions appeared in _Chambers' Edinburgh +Journal_. "Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry," a volume by +the brothers, of which the greater portion was written by Alexander, was +published in 1838; their joint-treatise on "Practical Economy" in the +year following. In 1843, Alexander published a small volume of tales, +entitled "The Scottish Peasant's Fireside," which was favourably +received. During the same year he was offered the editorship of the +_Dumfries Standard_ newspaper, with a salary of L100 a-year, but he was +unable to accept the appointment from impaired health. He died at Mount +Pleasant, near Newburgh, on the 13th June 1843, and his remains were +interred in his brother's grave in Abdie churchyard. An interesting +volume of his Memoirs, "embracing Selections from his Correspondence and +Literary Memoirs," was published in 1845 by Mr William M'Combie. + + + + +WITHER'D FLOWERS. + + + Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets! + Your day of glory's past; + But your latest smile was loveliest, + For we knew it was your last. + No more the sweet aroma + Of your golden cups shall rise, + To scent the morning's stilly breath, + Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs. + + Ye were the sweetest offerings + Which Friendship could bestow-- + A token of devoted love + In pleasure or in woe! + Ye graced the head of infancy, + By soft affection twined + Into a fairy coronal + Its sunny brows to bind. + + * * * * * + + But ah! a dreary blast hath blown + Athwart you in your bloom, + And, pale and sickly, now your leaves + The hues of death assume. + We mourn your vanish'd loveliness, + Ye sweet departed flowers; + For ah! the fate which blighted you + An emblem is of ours. + + * * * * * + And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth, + We wither and depart, + And leave behind, to mourn our loss, + Full many an aching heart; + Yet when the winter of the grave + Is past, we hope to rise, + Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness, + To blossom in the skies. + + + + +A SPRING SONG. + + + There is a concert in the trees, + There is a concert on the hill, + There 's melody in every breeze, + And music in the murmuring rill. + The shower is past, the winds are still, + The fields are green, the flow'rets spring, + The birds, and bees, and beetles fill + The air with harmony, and fling + The rosied moisture of the leaves + In frolic flight from wing to wing, + Fretting the spider as he weaves + His airy web from bough to bough; + In vain the little artist grieves + Their joy in his destruction now. + + Alas! that, in a scene so fair, + The meanest being e'er should feel + The gloomy shadow of despair + Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal. + But in a world where woe is real, + Each rank in life, and every day, + Must pain and suffering reveal, + And wretched mourners in decay-- + When nations smile o'er battles won, + When banners wave and streamers play, + The lonely mother mourns her son + Left lifeless on the bloody clay; + And the poor widow, all undone, + Sees the wild revel with dismay. + + Even in the happiest scenes of earth, + When swell'd the bridal-song on high, + When every voice was tuned to mirth, + And joy was shot from eye to eye, + I 've heard a sadly-stifled sigh; + And, 'mid the garlands rich and fair, + I 've seen a cheek, which once could vie + In beauty with the fairest there, + Grown deadly pale, although a smile + Was worn above to cloak despair. + Poor maid! it was a hapless wile + Of long-conceal'd and hopeless love + To hide a heart, which broke the while + With pangs no lighter heart could prove. + + The joyous spring and summer gay + With perfumed gifts together meet, + And from the rosy lips of May + Breathe music soft and odours sweet; + And still my eyes delay my feet + To gaze upon the earth and heaven, + And hear the happy birds repeat + Their anthems to the coming even; + Yet is my pleasure incomplete; + I grieve to think how few are given + To feel the pleasures I possess, + While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven, + Must pine in utter loneliness, + Or be to desperation driven. + + Oh! could we find some happy land, + Some Eden of the deep blue sea, + By gentle breezes only fann'd, + Upon whose soil, from sorrow free, + Grew only pure felicity! + Who would not brave the stormiest main + Within that blissful isle to be, + Exempt from sight or sense of pain? + There is a land we cannot see, + Whose joys no pen can e'er portray; + And yet, so narrow is the road, + From it our spirits ever stray-- + Shed light upon that path, O God! + And lead us in the appointed way. + + There only joy shall be complete, + More high than mortal thoughts can reach, + For there the just and good shall meet, + Pure in affection, thought, and speech; + No jealousy shall make a breach, + Nor pain their pleasure e'er alloy; + There sunny streams of gladness stretch, + And there the very air is joy. + There shall the faithful, who relied + On faithless love till life would cloy, + And those who sorrow'd till they died + O'er earthly pain and earthly woe, + See Pleasure, like a whelming tide, + From an unbounded ocean flow. + + + + +ALLAN STEWART. + + +Allan Stewart, a short-lived poet of no inconsiderable merit, was born +in the village of Houston, Renfrewshire, on the 30th January 1812. His +father prosecuted the humble vocation of a sawyer. Deprived of his +mother in early life, the loss was in some degree repaired by the kind +attentions of his maternal aunt, Martha Muir, whose letters on religious +subjects have been published. Receiving an ordinary education at school, +he followed the trade of a weaver in Paisley. His leisure hours were +employed in reading, and in the composition of verses. He died of typhus +fever, at Paisley, on the 12th November 1837, in his twenty-sixth year. +His "Poetical Remains" were published in 1838, in a thin duodecimo +volume, with a well-written biographical sketch from the pen of his +friend, Mr Charles Fleming. + +Stewart was a person of modest demeanour, and of a thoughtful and +somewhat melancholy cast. His verses are generally of a superior order; +his songs abound in sweetness of expression and elegance of sentiment. + + + + +THE SEA-BOY. + +AIR--_"The Soldier's Tear."_ + + + The storm grew faint as daylight tinged + The lofty billows' crest; + And love-lit hopes, with fears yet fringed, + Danced in the sea-boy's breast. + And perch'd aloft, he cheer'ly sung + To the billows' less'ning roar-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + And O what joy beam'd in his eye, + When, o'er the dusky foam, + He saw, beneath the northern sky, + The hills that mark'd his home! + His heart with double ardour strung, + He sung this ditty o'er-- + "O Ellen, so fair, so free, and young, + I 'll see thee yet once more!" + + Now towers and trees rise on his sight, + And many a dear-loved spot; + And, smiling o'er the blue waves bright, + He saw young Ellen's cot. + The scenes on which his memory hung + A cheerful aspect wore; + He then, with joyous feeling, sung, + "I 'll see her yet once more!" + + The land they near'd, and on the beach + Stood many a female form; + But ah! his eye it could not reach + His hope in many a storm. + He through the spray impatient sprung, + And gain'd the wish'd-for shore; + But Ellen, so fair, so sweet, and young, + Was gone for evermore! + + + + +MENIE LORN. + + + While beaus and belles parade the streets + On summer gloamings gay, + And barter'd smiles and borrow'd sweets, + And all such vain display; + My walks are where the bean-field's breath + On evening's breeze is borne, + With her, the angel of my heart-- + My lovely Menie Lorn. + + Love's ambuscades her auburn hair, + Love's throne her azure eye, + Where peerless charms and virtues rare + In blended beauty lie. + The rose is fair at break of day, + And sweet the blushing thorn, + But sweeter, fairer far than they, + The smile of Menie Lorn. + + O tell me not of olive groves, + Where gold and gems abound; + Of deep blue eyes and maiden loves, + With every virtue crown'd. + I ask no other ray of joy + Life's desert to adorn, + Than that sweet bliss, which ne'er can cloy-- + The love of Menie Lorn. + + + + +THE YOUNG SOLDIER. + +AIR--_"The Banks of the Devon."_ + + + O say not o' war the young soldier is weary, + Ye wha in battle ha'e witness'd his flame; + Remember his daring when danger was near ye, + Forgive ye the sigh that he heaves for his hame. + Past perils he heeds not, nor dangers yet coming, + Frae dark-brooding terror his young heart is free; + But it pants for the place whar in youth he was roaming; + He turns to the north wi' the tear in his e'e. + + 'Tis remembrance that saftens what war never daunted, + 'Tis the hame o' his birth that gives birth to the tear; + The warm fondled hopes his first love had implanted, + He langs now to reap in his Jeanie sae dear. + An' aften he thinks on the bonnie clear burnie, + Whar oft in love's fondness they daff'd their young day; + Nae tear then was shedded, for short was the journey + 'Tween Jeanie's broom bower and the blaeberry brae. + + An' weel does he mind o' that morning, when dressing, + In green Highland garb, to cross the wide sea; + His auld mither grat when she gi'ed him her blessing-- + 'Twas a' that the puir body then had to gi'e. + The black downy plume on his bonnie cheek babbit, + As he stood at the door an' shook hands wi' them a'; + But sair was his heart, an' sair Jeanie sabbit, + Whan down the burn-side she convoy'd him awa'. + + Now high-headed Alps an' dark seas divide them, + Wilds ne'er imagined in love's early dream; + Their Alps then the knowes, whare the lambs lay beside them, + Their seas then the hazel an' saugh-shaded stream. + An' wha couldna sigh when memory 's revealing + The scenes that surrounded our life's early hame? + The hero whose heart is cauld to that feeling + His nature is harsh, and not worthy the name. + + + + +THE LAND I LOVE. + + + The land I lo'e, the land I lo'e, + Is the land of the plaid and bonnet blue, + Of the gallant heart, the firm and true, + The land of the hardy thistle. + + Isle of the freeborn, honour'd and blest, + Isle of beauty, in innocence dress'd, + The loveliest star on ocean's breast + Is the land of the hardy thistle. + + Fair are those isles of Indian bloom, + Whose flowers perpetual breathe perfume; + But dearer far are the braes o' broom + Where blooms the hardy thistle. + + No luscious fig-tree blossoms there, + No slaves the scented shrubb'ry rear; + Her sons are free as the mountain air + That shakes the hardy thistle. + + Lovely 's the tint o' an eastern sky, + And lovely the lands that 'neath it lie; + But I wish to live, and I wish to die + In the land of the hardy thistle! + + + + +ROBERT L. MALONE. + + +Robert L. Malone was a native of Anstruther, in Fife, where he was born +in 1812. His father was a captain in the navy, and afterwards was +employed in the Coast Guard. He ultimately settled at Rothesay, in Bute. +Receiving a common school education, Robert entered the navy in his +fourteenth year. He served on board the gun-brig _Marshall_, which +attended the Fisheries department in the west; next in the Mediterranean +ocean; and latterly in South America. Compelled, from impaired health, +to renounce the seafaring life, after a service of ten years, he +returned to his family at Rothesay, but afterwards settled in the town +of Greenock. In 1845, he became a clerk in the Long-room of the Customs +at Greenock, an appointment which he retained till nigh the period of +his death. A lover of poetry from his youth, he solaced the hours of +sickness by the composition of verses. He published, in 1845, a +duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled, "The Sailor's Dream, and other +Poems," a work which was well received. His death took place at Greenock +on the 6th of July 1850, in his thirty-eighth year. Of modest and +retiring dispositions, Malone was unambitious of distinction as a poet. +His style is bold and animated, and some of his pieces evince +considerable power. + + + + +THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND. + +AIR--_"Humours o' Glen."_ + + + Though fair blooms the rose in gay Anglia's bowers, + And green be thy emblem, thou gem of the sea, + The greenest, the sweetest, the fairest of flowers, + Is the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + Far lovelier flowers glow, the woodlands adorning, + And breathing perfume over moorland and lea, + But there breathes not a bud on the freshness of morning + Like the thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + What scenes o' langsyne even thy name can awaken, + Thou badge of the fearless, the fair, and the free, + And the tenderest chords of the spirit are shaken; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for thee! + + Still'd be my harp, and forgotten its numbers, + And cold as the grave my affections must be, + Ere thy name fail to waken my soul from her slumbers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + On the fields of their fame, while proud laurels she gathers, + Caledonia plants, wi' the tear in her e'e, + Thy soft downy seeds on the graves of our fathers; + The thistle--the thistle of Scotland, for me! + + + + +HAME IS AYE HAMELY. + +AIR--_"Love's Young Dream."_ + + + Oh! hame is aye hamely still, though poor at times it be, + An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Though ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + There 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + There 's gowd in gowpens got, they say, on India's sunny strand, + Then wha would bear to linger here in this bleak, barren land? + I 'll hie me ower the heaving wave, and win myself a name, + And in a palace or a grave forget my Hieland hame. + + 'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream, + And Fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream; + His good sword won him wealth and power and long and loud acclaim, + But could not banish from his thoughts his dear-loved mountain hame. + + No! The peasant's heart within the peer beat true to nature still, + For on his vision oft would rise the cottage on the hill; + And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game, + As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame. + + Oh! in the Brahmin, mild and gray, his father's face he saw; + He thought upon his mother's tears the day he gaed awa'; + And her he loved--his Hieland girl--there 's magic in the name-- + They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame. + + He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands, + And where his father's cottage stood a stately palace stands; + And with his grandchild on his knee--the old man's heart on flame-- + 'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts of hame. + + Oh! hame is aye hamely, dear, though poor at times it be, + Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea; + Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame, + But there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame, + Oh! there 's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame, hame. + + + + +PETER STILL. + + +Peter Still was born in the parish of Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, on the +1st day of January 1814. At the time of his birth his father rented a +farm, but, being unfortunate, he was compelled to seek the support of +his family by manual labour. With a limited education at the +parish-school of Longside, whither his parents had removed, the subject +of this memoir was sent, in his eleventh year, to tend cattle. When +somewhat older, he found employment as a farm-servant; but having +married in his twentieth year, he afterwards followed the more +precarious occupation of a day-labourer. Of a delicate constitution, he +suffered much from impaired health, being frequently, for months +together, confined to the sick-chamber. During the periods of +convalescence from illness, he composed verses, which he gave to the +world in three separate publications. His last work--"The Cottar's +Sunday, and other Poems"--appeared in 1845, in a handsome duodecimo +volume. He closed a life of much privation and suffering at Peterhead, +on the 21st March 1848. + +Of sound religious principles and devoted Christian feeling, Still +meekly submitted to the bitterness of his lot in life. He was fortunate +in arresting the attention of some, who occasionally administered to his +wants, and contributed, by their patronage, to the increase of his +reputation. His verses are largely pervaded with poetical fervour and +religious sentiment, while his songs are generally true to nature. In +person he was tall and slender, of a long thin countenance, large dark +blue eyes, and curling black hair. + + + + +JEANIE'S LAMENT. + +AIR--_"Lord Gregory."_ + + + I never thocht to thole the waes + It 's been my lot to dree; + I never thocht to sigh sae sad + Whan first I sigh'd for thee. + I thocht your heart was like mine ain, + As true as true could be; + I couldna think there was a stain + In ane sae dear to me. + + Whan first amang the dewy flowers, + Aside yon siller stream, + My lowin' heart was press'd to yours, + Nae purer did they seem; + Nae purer seem'd the draps o' dew, + The flowers on whilk they hung, + Than seem'd the heart I felt in you + As to that heart I clung. + + But I was young an' thochtless then, + An' easy to beguile; + My mither's warnin's had nae weight + 'Bout man's deceitfu' smile. + But noo, alas! whan she is dead, + I 've shed the sad, saut tear, + And hung my heavy, heavy head + Aboon my father's bier! + + They saw their earthly hope betray'd, + They saw their Jeanie fade; + They couldna thole the heavy stroke, + An' baith are lowly laid! + Oh, Jamie! but thy name again + Shall ne'er be breathed by me, + For, speechless through yon gow'ny glen, + I 'll wander till I die. + + + + +YE NEEDNA' BE COURTIN' AT ME. + +AIR--_"John Todd."_ + + + "Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me; + Ye 're threescore an' three, an' ye 're blin' o' an e'e, + Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, + Ye needna' be courtin' at me. + + "Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man, + Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be; + Ye 're auld an' ye 're cauld, an' ye 're blin' an' ye 're bald, + An' ye 're nae for a lassie like me, auld man, + Ye 're nae for a lassie like me." + + "Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass, + Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee; + I 've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd, + An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, + A heart that lo'es nane but thee. + + "I 'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass, + I 'll busk you as braw as a queen; + I 've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what 's mair, + I 'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass, + Only twa score an' fifteen." + + "Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man, + Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear; + There 's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain, + An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man, + To me he shall ever be dear. + + "Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair, auld man, + Get aff, noo, an' fash me nae mair; + There 's a something in love that your gowd canna move-- + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare, auld man, + I 'll be Johnie's although I gang bare." + + + + +THE BUCKET FOR ME. + + + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + Awa' wi' your bickers o' barley bree; + Though good ye may think it, I 'll never mair drink it-- + The bucket, the bucket, the bucket for me! + There 's health in the bucket, there 's wealth in the bucket, + There 's mair i' the bucket than mony can see; + An' aye whan I leuk in 't, I find there 's a beuk in 't + That teaches the essence o' wisdom to me. + + Whan whisky I swiggit, my wifie aye beggit, + An' aft did she sit wi' the tear in her e'e; + But noo--wad you think it?--whan water I drink it + Right blithesome she smiles on the bucket an' me. + The bucket 's a treasure nae mortal can measure, + It 's happit my wee bits o' bairnies an' me; + An' noo roun' my ingle, whare sorrows did mingle, + I 've pleasure, an' plenty, an' glances o' glee. + + The bucket 's the bicker that keeps a man sicker, + The bucket 's a shield an' a buckler to me; + In pool or in gutter nae langer I 'll splutter, + But walk like a freeman wha feels he is free. + + Ye drunkards, be wise noo, an' alter your choice noo-- + Come cling to the bucket, an' prosper like me; + Ye 'll find it is better to swig "caller water," + Than groan in a gutter without a bawbee! + + + + +ROBERT NICOLL. + + +One of the most gifted and hopeful of modern Scottish song writers, +Robert Nicoll, was born at Little Tulliebeltane, in the parish of +Auchtergaven, Perthshire, on the 7th January 1814. Of a family of nine +children, he was the second son. His father, who bore the same Christian +name, rented a farm at the period of his birth and for five years +afterwards, when, involved in an affair of cautionary, he was reduced to +the condition of an agricultural labourer. Young Nicoll received the +rudiments of his education from his mother, a woman of superior +shrewdness and information; subsequently to his seventh year he tended +cattle in the summer months, to procure the means of attending the +parish school during the other portion of the year. From his childhood +fond of reading, books were his constant companions--in the field, on +the highway, and during the intervals of leisure in his father's +cottage. In his thirteenth year, he wrote verses and became the +correspondent of a newspaper. Apprenticed to a grocer and wine-merchant +in Perth, and occupied in business from seven o'clock morning till nine +o'clock evening, he prosecuted mental culture by abridging the usual +hours of rest. At the age of nineteen he communicated a tale to +_Johnstone's Magazine_, an Edinburgh periodical, which was inserted, and +attracted towards him the notice of Mr Johnstone, the ingenious +proprietor. By this gentleman he was introduced, during a visit he made +to the capital, to some men of letters, who subsequently evinced a warm +interest in his career. + +In 1834, Nicoll opened a small circulating library in Dundee, occupying +his spare time in reading and composition, and likewise taking part in +public meetings convened for the support of Radical or extreme liberal +opinions. To the liberal journals of the town he became a frequent +contributor both in prose and verse, and in 1835 appeared as the author +of a volume of "Poems and Lyrics." This publication was highly esteemed +by his friends, and most favourably received by the press. Abandoning +business in Dundee, which had never been prosperous, he meditated +proceeding as a literary adventurer to London, but was induced by Mr +Tait, his friendly publisher, and some other well-wishers, to remain in +Edinburgh till a suitable opening should occur. In the summer of 1836 he +was appointed editor of the _Leeds Times_ newspaper, with a salary of +L100. The politics of this journal were Radical, and to the exposition +and advocacy of these opinions he devoted himself with equal ardour and +success. But the unremitting labour of conducting a public journal soon +began materially to undermine the energies of a constitution which, +never robust, had been already impaired by a course of untiring literary +occupation. The excitement of a political contest at Leeds, during a +general parliamentary election, completed the physical prostration of +the poet; he removed from Leeds to Knaresborough, and from thence to +Laverock Bank, near Edinburgh, the residence of his friend Mr Johnstone. +His case was hopeless; after lingering a short period in a state of +entire prostration, he departed this life in December 1837, in his +twenty-fourth year. His remains, attended by a numerous assemblage, were +consigned to the churchyard of North Leith. + +Possessed of strong poetical genius, Robert Nicoll has attained a +conspicuous and honoured niche in the temple of the national minstrelsy. +Several of his songs, especially "Bonnie Bessie Lee" and "Orde Braes," +have obtained an equal popularity with the best songs of Burns. Since +the period of his death, four different editions of his "Poems" have +been called for. The work has latterly been published by the Messrs +Blackie of Glasgow in a handsome form, prefaced by an interesting +memoir. Nicoll's strain is eminently smooth and simple; and, though many +of his lyrics published after his decease had not the benefit of his +revision, he never falls into mediocrity. Of extensive sympathies, he +portrays the loves, hopes, and fears of the human heart; while he +depicts nature only in her loveliness. His sentiments breathe a devoted +and simple piety, the index of an unblemished life. In person Nicoll was +rather above the middle height, with a slight stoop. His countenance, +which was of a sanguine complexion, was thoughtful and pleasing; his +eyes were of a deep blue, and his hair dark brown. In society he was +modest and unobtrusive, but was firm and uncompromising in the +maintenance of his opinions. His political views were founded on the +belief that the industrial classes had suffered oppression from the +aristocracy. The solace of his hours of leisure were the songs and music +of his country. He married shortly prior to his decease, but was not +long survived by his widow. A monument to his memory, towards which +nearly L100 has lately been subscribed, is about to be erected on the +Orde Braes, in his native parish. + + + + +ORDE BRAES. + + + There 's nae hame like the hame o' youth, + Nae ither spot sae fair; + Nae ither faces look sae kind + As the smilin' faces there. + An' I ha'e sat by mony streams, + Ha'e travell'd mony ways; + But the fairest spot on the earth to me + Is on bonnie Orde Braes. + + An ell-lang wee thing then I ran + Wi' the ither neeber bairns, + To pu' the hazel's shining nuts, + An' to wander 'mang the ferns; + An' to feast on the bramble-berries brown, + An' gather the glossy slaes, + By the burnie's side, an' aye sinsyne + I ha'e loved sweet Orde Braes. + + The memories o' my father's hame, + An' its kindly dwellers a', + O' the friends I loved wi' a young heart's love + Ere care that heart could thraw, + Are twined wi' the stanes o' the silver burn, + An' its fairy crooks an' bays, + That onward sang 'neath the gowden broom + Upon bonnie Orde Braes. + + Aince in a day there were happy hames + By the bonnie Orde's side: + Nane ken how meikle peace an' love + In a straw-roof'd cot can bide. + But thae hames are gane, an' the hand o' time + The roofless wa's doth raze; + Laneness an' sweetness hand in hand + Gang ower the Orde Braes. + + Oh! an' the sun were shinin' now, + An', oh! an' I were there, + Wi' twa three friends o' auld langsyne, + My wanderin' joy to share. + For though on the hearth o' my bairnhood's hame + The flock o' the hills doth graze, + Some kind hearts live to love me yet + Upon bonnie Orde Braes. + + + + +THE MUIR O' GORSE AND BROOM. + + + I winna bide in your castle ha's, + Nor yet in your lofty towers; + My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame, + An' sick o' your darksome bowers; + An' oh! I wish I were far awa' + Frae their grandeur an' their gloom, + Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale, + That blaws fu' kindly there, + An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell + That wave on the muirland bare; + An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees, + An' the little lochs that toom + Their gushing burns to the distant sea + O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + Oh! if I had a dwallin' there, + Biggit laigh by a burnie's side, + Where ae aik tree, in the summer time, + Wi' its leaves that hame might hide; + Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day, + As blithe as a young bridegroom; + For dearer than palaces to me + Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom! + + In a lanely cot on a muirland wild, + My mither nurtured me; + O' the meek wild-flowers I playmates made, + An' my hame wi' the wandering bee. + An', oh! if I were far awa' + Frae your grandeur an' your gloom, + Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale, + On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom. + + + + +THE BONNIE HIELAND HILLS. + + + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms, + Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes; + But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills + As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair; + But o' riches or beauty we mak na our care; + Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills + Our hearts to the burstin'--our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are, + Though born in the midst o' the elements' war; + O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills, + As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills. + + On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand, + To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand; + A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills, + That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills. + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills, + Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills; + The bonnie hills o' Scotland O! + The bonnie Hieland hills. + + + + +THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH. + + + The bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen, + Where the burnie clear doth gush + In yon lane glen; + My head is white and auld, + An' my bluid is thin an' cauld; + But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + My Jeanie first I met + In yon lane glen, + When the grass wi' dew was wet + In yon lane glen; + The moon was shining sweet, + An' our hearts wi' love did beat, + By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Oh! she promised to be mine, + In yon lane glen; + Her heart she did resign, + In yon lane glen; + An' mony a happy day + Did o'er us pass away, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Sax bonnie bairns had we + In yon lane glen-- + Lads an' lassies young an' spree, + In yon lane glen; + An' a blither family + Than ours there cou'dna be, + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + Now my auld wife's gane awa' + Frae yon lane glen, + An' though summer sweet doth fa' + On yon lane glen-- + To me its beauty's gane, + For, alake! I sit alane + Beside the bonnie rowan bush + In yon lane glen. + + + + +BONNIE BESSIE LEE. + + + Bonnie Bessie Lee had a face fu' o' smiles, + And mirth round her ripe lip was aye dancing slee; + And light was the footfa', and winsome the wiles, + O' the flower o' the parochin, our ain Bessie Lee! + Wi' the bairns she would rin, and the school laddies paik, + And o'er the broomy braes like a fairy would flee, + Till auld hearts grew young again wi' love for her sake-- + There was life in the blithe blink o' bonnie Bessie Lee! + + She grat wi' the waefu', and laughed wi' the glad, + And light as the wind 'mang the dancers was she; + And a tongue that could jeer, too, the little limmer had, + Whilk keepit aye her ain side for bonnie Bessie Lee! + She could sing like the lintwhite that sports 'mang the whins, + An' sweet was her note as the bloom to the bee-- + It has aft thrilled my heart whaur our wee burnie rins, + Where a' thing grew fairer wi' bonnie Bessie Lee.[27] + + And she whiles had a sweetheart, and sometimes had twa, + A limmer o' a lassie; but atween you and me, + Her warm wee bit heartie she ne'er threw awa', + Though mony a ane had sought it frae bonnie Bessie Lee. + But ten years had gane since I gazed on her last-- + For ten years had parted my auld hame and me-- + And I said to mysel', as her mither's door I passed, + Will I ever get anither kiss frae bonnie Bessie Lee? + + But Time changes a' thing--the ill-natured loon! + Were it ever sae rightly, he 'll no let it be; + And I rubbit at my e'en, and I thought I would swoon, + How the carle had come roun' about our ain Bessie Lee! + The wee laughing lassie was a gudewife grown auld, + Twa weans at her apron, and ane on her knee, + She was douce too, and wise-like--and wisdom's sae cauld; + I would rather hae the ither ane than this Bessie Lee. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[27] The last four lines of this stanza are not the production of +Nicoll, but have been contributed for the present work by Mr Alexander +Wilson, of Perth. The insertion of the lines prevents the occurrence of +a half stanza, which has hitherto interfered with the singing of this +popular song. + + + + +ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING. + + +Archibald Stirling Irving was born in Edinburgh on the 18th of December +1816. His father, John Irving, Writer to the Signet, was the intimate +early friend of Sir Walter Scott, and is "the prosperous gentleman" +referred to in the general Introduction to the Waverley Novels. Having a +delicate constitution, young Irving was unable to follow any regular +profession, but devoted himself, when health permitted, to the concerns +of literature. He made himself abundantly familiar with the Latin +classics, and became intimately conversant with the more distinguished +British poets. Possessed of a remarkably retentive memory, he could +repeat some of the longest poems in the language. Receiving a handsome +annuity from his father, he resided in various of the more interesting +localities of Scottish scenery, some of which he celebrated in verse. He +published anonymously, in 1841, a small volume of "Original Songs," of +which the song selected for the present work may be regarded as a +favourable specimen. He died at Newmills, near Ardrossan, on the 20th +September 1851, in his thirty-fifth year. Some time before his death, he +exclusively devoted himself to serious reflection and Scriptural +reading. He married in October 1850, and his widow still survives. + + + + +THE WILD-ROSE BLOOMS. + +TUNE--_"Caledonia."_ + + + The wild-rose blooms in Drummond woods, + The trees are blossom'd fair, + The lake is smiling to the sun, + And Mary wand'ring there. + The powers that watch'd o'er Mary's birth + Did nature's charms despoil; + They stole for her the rose's blush, + The sweet lake's dimpled smile. + + The lily for her breast they took, + Nut-brown her locks appear; + But when they came to make her eyes, + They robb'd the starry sphere. + But cruel sure was their design, + Or mad-like their device-- + For while they filled her eyes with fire, + They made her heart of ice. + + + + +ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE.[28] + + +Alexander Abernethy Ritchie, author of "The Wells o' Wearie," was born +in the Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1816. In early youth he evinced a lively +appreciation of the humorous and the pathetic, and exhibited remarkable +artistic talent, sketching from nature with fidelity and ease. His +parents being in humble circumstances, he was apprenticed as a +house-painter, and soon became distinguished for his skill in the +decorative branch of his profession. On the expiry of his +apprenticeship, he cultivated painting in a higher department of the +art, and his pictures held a highly respectable place at the annual +exhibitions of the Scottish Academy. Among his pictures which became +favourites may be mentioned the "Wee Raggit Laddie," "The Old Church +Road," "The Gaberlunzie," "Tak' your Auld Cloak about ye," and "The +Captive Truant." His illustrations of his friend, Mr James Ballantine's +works, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet" and "The Miller of Deanhaugh," and of +some other popular works, evince a lively fancy and keen appreciation of +character. He executed a number of water-colour sketches of the more +picturesque and interesting lanes and alleys of Edinburgh; and +contributed to the _Illustrated London News_ representations of +remarkable events as they occurred in the Scottish capital. He died +suddenly at St John's Hill, Canongate, Edinburgh, in 1850, in the +thirty-fourth year of his age. Ritchie was possessed of a vast fund of +humour, and was especially esteemed for the simplicity of his manners +and his kindly dispositions. He excelled in reading poetry, whether +dramatic or descriptive, and sung his own songs with intense feeling. He +lived with his aged mother, whom he regarded with dutiful affection, and +who survives to lament his loss. Shortly before his death he composed +the following hymn, which has been set to appropriate music:-- + + Father of blissfulness, + Grant me a resting-place + Now my sad spirit is longing for rest. + Lord, I beseech Thee, + Deign Thou to teach me + Which path to heaven is surest and best: + Lonely and dreary, + Laden and weary, + Oh! for a home in the land of the blest! + + Father of holiness, + Look on my lowliness; + From this sad bondage, O Lord, set me free; + Grant that, 'mid love and peace, + Sorrow and sin may cease, + While in the Saviour my trust it shall be. + When Death's sleep comes o'er me, + On waking--before me + The portals of glory all open I 'll see. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[28] We are indebted to Mr James Ballantine, of Edinburgh, for the +particulars contained in this memoir. + + + + +THE WELLS O' WEARIE. + +AIR--_"Bonnie House o' Airlie."_ + + + Sweetly shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, + And mak's her look young and cheerie; + Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve, + There 's nought in the world to fear ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + Oh, the sun winna blink in thy bonnie blue e'en, + Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie, + For I 'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green + By the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + But, Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower + At your form in the water sae clearly, + Or the fairy will change you into a wee, wee flower, + And you 'll grow by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Yestreen as I wander'd there a' alane, + I felt unco douf and drearie, + For wanting my Mary, a' around me was but pain + At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. + + Let fortune or fame their minions deceive, + Let fate look gruesome and eerie; + True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve, + When we meet by the Wells o' Wearie. + + Then gang wi' me, my bonnie Mary Grieve, + Nae danger will daur to come near ye; + For I ha'e ask'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave, + To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. + + + + +ALEXANDER LAING. + + +One of the simplest and most popular of the living national +song-writers, Alexander Laing, was born at Brechin on the 14th May 1787. +His father, James Laing, was an agricultural labourer. With the +exception of two winters' schooling, he was wholly self-taught. Sent to +tend cattle so early as his eighth year, he regularly carried books and +writing-materials with him to the fields. His books were procured by the +careful accumulation of the halfpence bestowed on him by the admirers of +his juvenile tastes. In his sixteenth year, he entered on the business +of a flax-dresser, in his native town--an occupation in which he was +employed for a period of fourteen years. He afterwards engaged in +mercantile concerns, and has latterly retired from business. He now +resides at Upper Tenements, Brechin, in the enjoyment of a well-earned +competency. + +Mr Laing early wrote verses. In 1819, several songs from his pen +appeared in the "Harp of Caledonia"--a respectable collection of +minstrelsy, edited by John Struthers. He subsequently became a +contributor to the "Harp of Renfrewshire" and the "Scottish Minstrel," +edited by R. A. Smith. His lyrics likewise adorn the pages of +Robertson's "Whistle Binkie" and the "Book of Scottish Song." He +published, in 1846, a collected edition of his poems and songs, in a +duodecimo volume, under the designation of "Wayside Flowers." A second +edition appeared in 1850. He has been an occasional contributor to the +local journals; furnished a number of anecdotes for the "Laird of +Logan," a humorous publication of the west of Scotland; and has compiled +some useful elementary works for the use of Sabbath-schools. His lyrics +are uniformly pervaded by graceful simplicity, and the chief themes of +his inspiration are love and patriotism. Than his song entitled "My Ain +Wife," we do not know a lay more beautifully simple. His "Hopeless +Exile" is the perfection of tenderness. + + + + +AE HAPPY HOUR. + +AIR--_"The Cock Laird."_ + + + The dark gray o' gloamin', + The lone leafy shaw, + The coo o' the cushat, + The scent o' the haw; + The brae o' the burnie, + A' bloomin' in flower, + An' twa' faithfu' lovers, + Make ae happy hour. + + A kind winsome wifie, + A clean canty hame, + An' smilin' sweet babies + To lisp the dear name; + Wi' plenty o' labour, + An' health to endure, + Make time to row round aye + The ae happy hour. + + Ye lost to affection, + Whom avarice can move + To woo an' to marry + For a' thing but love; + Awa' wi' your sorrows, + Awa' wi' your store, + Ye ken na the pleasure + O' ae happy hour. + + + + +LASS, GIN YE WAD LO'E ME. + +AIR--_"Lass, gin I come near you."_ + + + "Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me, + Ye'se be ladye o' my ha', + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me. + A canty but, a cosie ben, + Weel plenish'd ye may trow me; + A brisk, a blithe, a kind gudeman-- + Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!" + + "Walth, there 's little doubt ye ha'e, + An' bidin' bein an' easy; + But brisk an' blithe ye canna be, + An' you sae auld an' crazy. + Wad marriage mak' you young again? + Wad woman's love renew you? + Awa', ye silly doitet man, + I canna, winna lo'e you!" + + "Witless hizzie, e'en 's you like, + The ne'er a doit I 'm carin'; + But men maun be the first to speak, + An' wanters maun be speerin'. + Yet, lassie, I ha'e lo'ed you lang, + An' now I'm come to woo you; + I 'm no sae auld as clashes gang, + I think you 'd better lo'e me." + + "Doitet bodie! auld or young, + Ye needna langer tarry, + Gin ane be loutin' o'er a rung, + He 's no for me to marry. + Gae hame an' ance bethink yoursel' + How ye wad come to woo me, + An' mind me i' your latter-will, + Bodie, gin ye lo'e me!" + + + + +LASS OF LOGIE. + +AIR--_"Lass of Arranteenie."_ + + + I 've seen the smiling summer flower + Amang the braes of Yarrow; + I 've heard the raving winter wind + Amang the hills of Barra; + I 've wander'd Scotland o'er and o'er, + Frae Teviot to Strathbogie; + But the bonniest lass that I ha'e seen + Is bonnie Jean of Logie. + + Her lips were like the heather bloom, + In meekest dewy morning; + Her cheeks were like the ruddy leaf, + The bloomy brier adorning; + Her brow was like the milky flower + That blossoms in the bogie; + And love was laughing in her een-- + The bonnie lass of Logie. + + I said, "My lassie, come wi' me, + My hand, my hame are ready; + I ha'e a lairdship of my ain, + And ye shall be my ladye. + I 've ilka thing baith out and in, + To make you blithe and vogie;" + She hung her head and sweetly smiled-- + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + But she has smiled, and fate has frown'd, + And wrung my heart with sorrow; + The bonnie lass sae dear to me + Can never be my marrow. + For, ah! she loves another lad-- + The ploughman wi' his cogie; + Yet happy, happy may she be, + The bonnie lass of Logie! + + + + +MY AIN WIFE. + +AIR--_"John Anderson, my Jo."_ + + + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see; + For, Oh! my dainty ain wife, + She 's aye sae dear to me. + A bonnier yet I 've never seen, + A better canna be; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Though beauty is a fadin' flower, + As fadin' as it 's fair, + It looks fu' well in ony wife, + An' mine has a' her share. + She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass-- + She 's bonnie aye to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + Oh, couthy is my ingle-cheek, + An' cheery is my Jean; + I never see her angry look, + Nor hear her word on ane. + She 's gude wi' a' the neebours roun', + An' aye gude wi' me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + But Oh, her looks sae kindly, + They melt my heart outright, + When ower the baby at her breast + She hangs wi' fond delight. + She looks intill its bonnie face, + An' syne looks to me; + I wadna gi'e my ain wife + For ony wife I see. + + + + +THE MAID O' MONTROSE. + +AIR--_"O tell me the Way for to Woo."_ + + + O sweet is the calm dewy gloaming, + When saftly by Rossie-wood brae, + The merle an' mavis are hymning + The e'en o' the lang summer's day! + An' sweet are the moments when o'er the blue ocean, + The full moon arising in majesty glows; + An' I, breathing o'er ilka tender emotion, + Wi' my lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + The fopling sae fine an' sae airy, + Sae fondly in love wi' himsel', + Is proud wi' his ilka new dearie, + To shine at the fair an' the ball; + But gie me the grove where the broom's yellow blossom + Waves o'er the white lily an' red smiling rose, + An' ae bonnie lassie to lean on my bosom-- + My ain lovely Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O what is the haill warld's treasure, + Gane nane o' its pleasures we prove? + An' where can we taste o' true pleasure, + Gin no wi' the lassie we love? + O sweet are the smiles an' the dimples o' beauty, + Where lurking the loves an' the graces repose; + An' sweet is the form an' the air o' the pretty, + But sweeter is Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though few are sae bonnie as thee; + O Mary, 'tis no for thy beauty, + Though handsome as woman can be. + The rose bloom is gane when the chill autumn's low'ring; + The aik's stately form when the wild winter blows; + But the charms o' the mind are the ties mair enduring-- + These bind me to Mary, the Maid o' Montrose. + + + + +JEAN OF ABERDEEN. + +AIR--_"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."_ + + + Ye 've seen the blooming rosy brier, + On stately Dee's wild woody knowes; + Ye 've seen the op'ning lily fair, + In streamy Don's gay broomy howes: + An' ilka bonnie flower that grows, + Amang their banks and braes sae green-- + These borrow a' their finest hues + Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Ye 've seen the dew-ey'd bloomy haw, + When morning gilds the welkin high; + Ye 've heard the breeze o' summer blaw, + When e'ening steals alang the sky. + But brighter far is Jeanie's eye, + When we 're amang the braes alane, + An' softer is the bosom-sigh + Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + Though I had a' the valleys gay, + Around the airy Bennochie; + An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray + Amang the lofty hills o' Dee; + While Mem'ry lifts her melting ee, + An' Hope unfolds her fairy scene, + My heart wi' them I'd freely gie + To lovely Jean of Aberdeen. + + + + +THE HOPELESS EXILE. + +AIR--_"Alas! for Poor Teddy Macshane."_ + + + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Oh! where has the exile his home? + Where the mountain is steep, + Where the valley is deep, + Where the waves of the Ohio foam; + Where no cheering smile + His woes may beguile-- + Oh! there has the exile his home. + + Oh! when will the exile return? + Oh! when will the exile return? + When our hearts heave no sigh, + When our tears shall be dry, + When Erin no longer shall mourn; + When his name we disown, + When his mem'ry is gone-- + Oh! then will the exile return! + + + + +GLEN-NA-H'ALBYN.[29] + +AIR--_"O rest thee, my Darling."_ + + + On the airy Ben-Nevis the wind is awake, + The boat 's on the shallow, the ship on the lake; + Ah! now in a moment my country I leave; + The next I am far away--far on the wave! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + + I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief, + And to build up his House was the aim of my life; + And now in his greatness he turns me away, + When my strength is decay'd and my locks worn gray. + Oh! fare thee well! + + Farewell the gray stones of my ancestors' graves, + I go to my place 'neath the foam of the waves; + Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore, + Where none of my fathers were gathered before! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + Oh! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[29] "Glen-na-h'Albyn, or Glen-more-na-h'Albyn, the great Glen of +Caledonia, is a name applied to the valley which runs in a direction +from north-east to south-west, the whole breadth of the kingdom, from +the Moray Firth at Inverness to the Sound of Mull below Fort-William, +and is almost filled with lakes." + + + + +ALEXANDER CARLILE. + + +Alexander Carlile was born at Paisley in the year 1788. His progenitors +are said to have been remarkable for their acquaintance with the arts, +and relish for elegant literature. His eldest brother, the late Dr +Carlile of Dublin attained much eminence as a profound thinker and an +accomplished theologian. Having received a liberal education, first at +the grammar-school of Paisley, and afterwards in the University of +Glasgow, the subject of this sketch settled as a manufacturer in his +native town. Apart from the avocations of business, much of his time has +been devoted to the concerns of literature; he has contributed to the +more esteemed periodicals, and composed verses for several works on the +national minstrelsy. At an early period he composed the spirited and +popular song, beginning "Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha?" which has +since obtained a place in all the collections. His only separate +publication, a duodecimo volume of "Poems," appeared in 1855, and has +been favourably received. Mr Carlile is much devoted to the interests of +his native town, and has sedulously endeavoured to promote the moral and +social welfare of his fellow-townsmen. His unobtrusive worth and elegant +accomplishments have endeared him to a wide circle of friends. His +latter poetical compositions have been largely pervaded by religious +sentiment. + + + + +WHA'S AT THE WINDOW?[30] + + + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Oh, wha's at the window, wha, wha? + Wha but blithe Jamie Glen, + He 's come sax miles and ten, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa, awa, + To tak' bonnie Jeannie awa. + + He has plighted his troth, and a', and a', + Leal love to gi'e, and a', and a', + And sae has she dune, + By a' that 's abune, + For he lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a', 'bune a', + He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a'. + + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, + But the bride's modest e'e, + And warm cheek are to me + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a', + 'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a'. + + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha', + It 's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha'; + There 's quaffing and laughing, + There 's dancing and daffing, + And the bride's father 's blithest of a', of a', + The bride's father 's blithest of a'. + + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + It 's no that she 's Jamie's ava, ava, + That my heart is sae eerie + When a' the lave 's cheerie, + But it 's just that she 'll aye be awa, awa, + It 's just that she 'll aye be awa. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[30] The title of this song seems to have been suggested by that of a +ballad recovered by Cromek, and published in his "Remains of Nithsdale +and Galloway Song," p. 219. The first line of the old ballad runs thus: +"Oh, who is this under my window."--ED. + + + + +MY BROTHERS ARE THE STATELY TREES. + + + My brothers are the stately trees + That in the forests grow; + The simple flowers my sisters are, + That on the green bank blow. + With them, with them, I am a child + Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild. + + The daisy, with its tear of joy, + Gay greets me as I stray; + How sweet a voice of welcome comes + From every trembling spray! + How light, how bright, the golden-wing'd hours + I spend among those songs and flowers! + + I love the Spirit of the Wind, + His varied tones I know; + His voice of soothing majesty, + Of love and sobbing woe; + Whate'er his varied theme may be, + With his my spirit mingles free. + + I love to tread the grass-green path, + Far up the winding stream; + For there in nature's loneliness, + The day is one bright dream. + And still the pilgrim waters tell + Of wanderings wild by wood and dell. + + Or up the mountain's brow I toil + Beneath a wid'ning sky, + Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide, + Crowding the wondering eye. + Then, then, my soul on eagle's wings, + To cloudless regions upwards springs! + + The stars--the stars! I know each one, + With all its soul of love, + They beckon me to come and live + In their tearless homes above; + And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers, + And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers. + + + + +THE VALE OF KILLEAN. + + + O yes, there 's a valley as calm and as sweet + As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; + So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green, + 'Mid Scotia's dark mountains--the Vale of Killean. + + The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam, + The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home, + That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close, + Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose. + + How solemn the broad hills that curtain around + This sanctuary of nature, 'mid a wilderness found, + Whose echoes low whisper, "Bid the world farewell, + And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell!" + + Then build me a cot by that lake's verdant shore, + 'Mid the world's wild turmoil I 'll mingle no more, + And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear, + Of man's crimes and his follies, no more shall I hear. + + Young Morn, as on tiptoe he ushers the day, + Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray; + And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart + To the soul her own meekness--a rich glow to the heart. + + The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest, + As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast; + And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise, + Like the mist from the mountain to blend with the skies. + + + + +JOHN NEVAY. + + +John Nevay, the bard of Forfar, was born in that town on the 28th of +January 1792. He was educated at the schools of his native place, and +considerably improved himself in classical learning, at an early age, +under the tuition of Mr James Clarke, sometime master of the Burgh +School, and the friend and correspondent of Burns. Fond of solitary +rambles in the country, he began, while a mere youth, to portray in +verse his impressions of the scenery which he was in the habit of +surveying. He celebrated the green fields, the lochs and mountains near +the scene of his nativity, and was rewarded with the approving smiles of +the family circle. Acquiring facility in the production of verses, he +was at length induced to venture on a publication. In 1818 he gave to +the world a "Pamphlet of Rhymes," which, obtaining a ready sale, induced +him to publish a second small collection of verses in 1821. After an +interval devoted to mental improvement, he appeared, in 1834, as the +author of "The Peasant, a Poem in Nine Cantos, with other Poems," in one +volume, 12mo. In the following year he published "The Child of Nature, +and other Poems," in a thin duodecimo volume. In 1853 he printed, by +subscription, a third volume, entitled "Rosaline's Dream, in Four Duans, +and other Poems," which was accompanied with an introductory essay by +the Rev. George Gilfillan. His latest production--"The Fountain of the +Rock, a Poem"--appeared in a pamphlet form, in 1855. He has repeatedly +written prose tales for the periodicals, and has contributed verses to +_Blackwood's Magazine_ and the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_. + +From the labour of a long career of honourable industry, John Nevay is +now enjoying the pleasures of retirement. He continues to compose verses +with undiminished ardour, and has several MS. poems ready for the press. +He has also prepared a lengthened autobiography. As a poet, his +prevailing themes are the picturesque objects of nature. His lyrical +pieces somewhat lack simplicity. His best production--"The Emigrant's +Love-letter"--will maintain a place in the national minstrelsy. It was +composed during the same week with Motherwell's "Jeanie Morrison," which +it so peculiarly resembles both in expression and sentiment. + + + + +THE EMIGRANT'S LOVE-LETTER. + + + My young heart's luve! twal' years ha'e been + A century to me; + I ha'e na seen thy smile, nor heard + Thy voice's melodie. + The mony hardships I ha'e tholed + Sin' I left Larocklea, + I maun na tell, for it would bring + The saut tear in thine e'e. + + But I ha'e news, an' happy news, + To tell unto my love-- + What I ha'e won, to me mair dear + That it my heart can prove. + Its thochts unchanged, still it is true, + An' surely sae is thine; + Thou never, never canst forget + That twa waur ane langsyne. + + The simmer sun blinks on the tarn, + An' on the primrose brae, + Where we, in days o' innocence, + Waur wont to daff an' play; + An' I amang the mossy springs + Wade for the hinny blooms-- + To thee the rush tiara wove, + Bedeck'd wi' lily plumes. + + When on the ferny knowe we sat, + A happy, happy pair-- + Thy comely cheek laid on my knee, + I plaited thy gowden hair. + Oh! then I felt the holiest thocht + That e'er enter'd my mind-- + It, Mary, was to be to thee + For ever true an' kind. + + Though fair the flowers that bloom around + My dwallin' owre the sea-- + Though bricht the streams, an' green the bowers, + They are na _sae_ to me. + I hear the bulbul's mellow leed + Upo' the gorgeous paum-- + The sweet cheep o' the feather'd bee + Amang the fields o' baum. + + But there are nae auld Scotland's burds, + Sae dear to childhood's days-- + The laverock, lintie, shulf, an' yyoite, + That taught us luve's sweet lays. + Gin' thou e'er wauk'st alane to think + On him that's owre the sea, + Their cheerfu' saft luve-lilts will tell + My heart's luve-thochts to thee. + + Lat joy be in thy leal, true heart, + An' bricht smile in thine e'e-- + The bonnie bark is in the bay, + I 'm coming hame to thee; + I 'm coming hame to thee, Mary, + Wi' mony a pearl fine, + An' I will lay them in thy lap, + For the kiss o' sweet langsyne. + + + + +THOMAS LYLE. + + +Thomas Lyle, author of the highly popular song, "Kelvin Grove," is a +native of Paisley. Attending the philosophical and medical classes in +the University of Glasgow, he obtained the diploma of surgeon in the +year 1816. He commenced medical practice in Glasgow, where he remained +till 1826, when he removed to the parish of Airth in Stirlingshire. The +latter locality afforded him abundant opportunities for prosecuting his +favourite study of botany; and he frequently proceeded at early dawn to +great distances in quest of curious or rare plants, so as to gratify his +peculiar tastes without interfering with the duties of his profession, +or the conveniences of his patients. At an earlier period of life, +having cherished a love for the ancient national music, he was in the +habit of collecting and noting such of the older airs as were rapidly +passing into oblivion. He was particularly struck with one of these +airs, which he deemed worthy of more suitable words than those to which +it was commonly sung.[31] At this period he often resorted, in his +botanical rambles, to the wooded and sequestered banks of the Kelvin, +about two miles north-west of Glasgow;[32] and in consequence, he was +led to compose for his favourite tune the words of his beautiful song, +"Kelvin Grove." "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was now in the course of +being published, in sixpence numbers, under the editorship of his +college friend and professional brother, John Sim, and to this work he +contributed his new song. In a future number of the work, the song +appeared without his name, as was requested, but with some unauthorised +alterations. Of these he complained to Mr Sim, who laid the blame on Mr +John Murdoch, who had succeeded him in the editorship, and Mr Lyle did +not further prosecute inquiry on the subject. On the retirement of Mr +Murdoch, the editorship of "The Harp of Renfrewshire" was intrusted to +the poet Motherwell, who incautiously ascribed the song to Mr Sim in the +index of the work. Sim died in the West Indies before this period;[33] +and, in the belief that the song had been composed by him, Mr Purdie, +music-seller in Edinburgh, made purchase of the copyright from his +representatives, and published the words, with music arranged for the +piano by Robert Archibald Smith. Mr Lyle now asserted his title to the +authorship, and on Mr Sim's letter regarding the alterations being +submitted to Messrs Motherwell and Smith, a decision in favour of his +claim was pronounced by these gentlemen. Mr Lyle was shortly after +invited by Mr Smith to contribute songs for the "Irish Minstrel," one of +his numerous musical publications. + +In 1827 Mr Lyle published the results of his researches into the song +literature of his country, in a duodecimo volume, entitled "Ancient +Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition, Manuscripts, and scarce +Works, with Biographical and Illustrative Notices." Of this work, the +more interesting portion consists of "Miscellaneous Poems, by Sir +William Mure, Knight of Rowallan," together with several songs of +various merit by the editor. + +Having acted as medical practitioner at Airth during the period of +twenty-eight years, Mr Lyle, in the close of 1853, returned to Glasgow, +where he soon found himself actively employed by the medical boards of +the city during the prevalence of the Asiatic Cholera. At the present +time he is one of the city district surgeons. A man of the most retiring +dispositions, he has hitherto avoided public reputation, and has written +verses, as he has studied botany, solely for his amusement. He will, +however, be remembered as the writer of some exquisitely sweet and +simple lyrics. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[31] The former words to this air commenced, "Oh, the shearing's no for +you, bonnie lassie, O!" + +[32] The wooded scenery of the Kelvin will in a few years be included +within the boundaries of the city, which has already extended within a +very limited space of the "grove" celebrated in the song. + +[33] See vol. iii., p. 226. + + + + +KELVIN GROVE. + + + Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O! + Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the rose in all her pride, + Paints the hollow dingle side, + Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O! + + Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O! + To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O! + Where the glens rebound the call + Of the roaring water's fall, + Through the mountains rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O! + + O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O! + When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O! + There the May pink's crimson plume + Throws a soft but sweet perfume + Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O! + + Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O! + As the smile of fortune 's thine, bonnie lassie, O! + Yet with fortune on my side, + I could stay thy father's pride, + And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O! + + But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O! + On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O! + Ere yon golden orb of day + Wake the warblers on the spray, + From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O! + + Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O! + And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O! + To the river winding clear, + To the fragrant-scented breer, + Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O! + + When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O! + Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O! + Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear + Of thy lover on his bier, + To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O! + + + + +THE TRYSTING HOUR. + + + The night-wind's Eolian breezes, + Chase melody over the grove, + The fleecy clouds wreathing in tresses, + Float rosy the woodlands above; + Then tarry no longer, my true love, + The stars hang their lamps in the sky, + 'Tis lovely the landscape to view, love, + When each bloom has a tear in its eye. + + So stilly the evening is closing, + Bright dew-drops are heard as they fall, + Eolian whispers reposing + Breathe softly, I hear my love call; + Yes, the light fairy step of my true love + The night breeze is wafting to me; + Over heathbell and violet blue, love, + Perfuming the shadowy lea. + + + + +HARVEST SONG.[34] + + + The harvest morning breaks + Breathing balm, and the lawn + Through the mist in rosy streaks + Gilds the dawn, + While fairy troops descend, + With the rolling clouds that bend + O'er the forest as they wend + Fast away, when the day + Chases cloudy wreaths away + From the land. + + The harvest breezes swell, + And the song pours along, + From the reapers in the dell, + Joyous throng! + The tiny gleaners come, + Picking up their harvest home, + As they o'er the stubble roam, + Dancing here, sporting there, + All the balmy sunny air + Is full of song. + + The harvest evening falls, + While each flower round the bower, + Breathing odour, now recalls + The lover's hour. + The moon enthroned in blue + Lights the rippling lake anew, + And the wailing owls' whoo! whoo! + From the glen again, again, + Wakes the stillness of the scene + On my adieu. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[34] Contributed by Mr Lyle to the present work. + + + + +JAMES HOME. + + +James Home, the author of "Mary Steel," and other popular songs, was +born, early in the century, on the farm of Hollybush, about a mile south +of Galashiels. During a period of about thirty years, he has been +engaged in the humble capacity of a dry-stone mason in Peeblesshire. He +resides in the hamlet of Rachan Mill in that county, where, in addition +to his ordinary employment, he holds the office of postmaster. + +Home has not ventured on a publication, and latterly has abandoned the +composition of verses. In youth he was, writes a correspondent, "an +enthusiast in love, music, and poetry." A number of his songs and +poetical pieces, which he had addressed to friends, have long been +popular in the south of Scotland. His song entitled "This Lassie o' +Mine" has enjoyed an uncommon measure of general favour. His +compositions are replete with pathos; he has skilfully told the lover's +tale; and has most truthfully depicted the joys and sorrows, hopes and +fears of human life. Some of his best pieces appear in the "Unknown +Poets" of Mr Alexander Campbell,--a work which only reached a single +number. Of mild dispositions, modest manners, and industrious habits, +Home is much respected in private life. Of a somewhat sanguine +complexion, his countenance betokens superior intellectual power. He +enjoys the comfort of a suitable partner in life, and is a respected +office-bearer of the Free Church congregation at Broughton. + + + + +MARY STEEL. + + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the lark begins to sing, + And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts + Are welcoming the spring: + When the merle and the blackbird build their nest + In the bushy forest tree, + And a' things under the sky seem blest, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the simmer spreads her flowers, + And the lily blooms and the ivy twines + In beauty round the bowers; + When the cushat coos in the leafy wood, + And the lambs sport o'er the lea, + And every heart 's in its happiest mood, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When har'st blithe days begin, + And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field, + The foremost rig to win; + When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld, + Where light-hair'd lasses be, + And mony a tale o' love is tauld, + My thoughts shall be o' thee. + + I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, + When the winter winds rave high, + And the tempest wild is pourin' doun + Frae the dark and troubled sky: + When a hopeless wail is heard on land, + And shrieks frae the roaring sea, + And the wreck o' nature seems at hand, + My thoughts shall be o' thee! + + + + +OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN? + + + Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade, + And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary? + Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made, + When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary? + + Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget, + The hours we have spent together? + Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet + Shine on as brightly as ever! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss, + So fraught with the heart's full feeling? + As we clung to each other in the last embrace, + The soul of love revealing! + + Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot, + Where the farewell word was spoken? + Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot, + The vow and the promise broken? + + Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one; + Though other arms caress thee, + Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain, + And a smoother tongue should bless thee:-- + + Yet never again on thy warm young cheek + Will breathe a soul more warm than mine, + And never again will a lover speak + Of love more pure to thine. + + + + +THE MAID OF MY HEART. + +AIR--_"The Last Rose of Summer."_ + + + When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, + The only beloved of my bosom is nigh, + I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + When around and above us there 's nought to be seen, + But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green, + And all is at rest in the glen and the hill, + Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill. + + Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd, + Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd; + Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, + Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart. + + + + +SONG OF THE EMIGRANT. + + + Oh! the land of hills is the land for me, + Where the maiden's step is light and free; + Where the shepherd's pipe, and the hunter's horn, + Awake the joys of the rosy morn. + + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the lake, + That tells how the foamy billows break; + There 's a voice in the wind, when it comes from the wood, + That tells of dreary solitude. + + But, oh! when it comes from the mountain fells, + Where the Spirit of Song and Freedom dwells, + Where in youth's warm day I woke that strain + I ne'er in this world can wake again. + + The warm blood leaps in its wonted course, + And fresh tears gush from their briny source, + As if I had hail'd in the passing wind + The all I have loved and left behind. + + + + +THIS LASSIE O' MINE.[35] + +TUNE--_"Wattie's Ramble."_ + + + O, saw ye this sweet bonnie lassie o' mine? + Or saw ye the smile on her cheek sae divine? + Or saw ye the kind love that speaks in her e'e? + Sure naebody e'er was sae happy as me. + + It 's no that she dances sae light on the green, + It 's no the simplicity marked in her mien-- + But, O! it 's the kind love that speaks in her e'e + That keeps me aye happy as happy can be. + + To meet her alane 'mang the green leafy trees, + When naebody kens, an' when naebody sees; + To breathe out the soul in a saft melting kiss-- + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + + I have felt every bliss which the soul can enjoy, + When friends circle round, and nought to annoy; + I have felt every joy which illumines the breast + When the full flowing bowl is most warmly caress'd. + + But, O! there 's a sweet and a heavenly charm + In life's early day, when the bosom is warm, + When soul meets with soul in a saft melting kiss, + On earth sure there 's naething is equal to this. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[35] This song was formerly introduced in this work (vol. ii. p. 70) as +the composition of the Ettrick Shepherd. The error is not ours; we found +the song in the latest or posthumous edition of the Shepherd's songs, p. +201 (Blackie, Glasgow), and we had no reason to suspect the +authenticity. We have since ascertained that a copy of the song, having +been handed to the Shepherd by the late Mr Peter Roger, of Peebles, +Hogg, with the view of directing attention to the real author, +introduced it shortly after in his _Noctes Bengerianae_, in the +"Edinburgh Literary Journal" (vol. i. p. 258). Being included in this +periodical paper, the editor of his posthumous works had assumed that +the song was the Shepherd's own composition. So much for uncertainty as +to the authorship of our best songs! + + + + +JAMES TELFER. + + +James Telfer, an ingenious prose writer and respectable poet, was born +about the commencement of the century, near the source of the river Jed, +in the parish of Southdean, and county of Roxburgh. Passionate in his +admiration of Hogg's "Queen's Wake," he early essayed imitations of some +of the more remarkable portions of that poem. In 1824 he published at +Jedburgh a volume of "Border Ballads and Miscellaneous Poems," which he +inscribed to the Bard of Ettrick. "Barbara Gray," an interesting prose +tale, appeared from his pen in 1835, printed at Newcastle. A collected +edition of his best productions in prose and verse was published at +London in 1852, with the title of "Tales and Sketches." He has long been +a contributor to the provincial journals. + +Some of Mr Telfer's ballads are respectable specimens of this class of +compositions; and his tales in prose are written with much vigour, the +narrative of "Barbara Gray" being especially interesting. For many years +he has taught an adventure school at Saughtree, Liddisdale; and with +emoluments not much beyond twenty pounds a-year, he has contrived to +support a family. He has long maintained a literary correspondence with +his ingenious friend, Mr Robert White of Newcastle; and his letters, +some of which we have seen, abound with curious and interesting +speculations. + + + + +OH, WILL YE WALK THE WOOD WI' ME?[36] + + + "Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? + Oh, will ye walk the green? + Or will ye sit within mine arms, + My ain kind Jean?" + + "It 's I 'll not walk the wood wi' thee, + Nor yet will I the green; + And as for sitting in your arms, + It 's what I dinna mean." + + "Oh! slighted love is ill to thole, + And weel may I compleen; + But since that better mayna be, + I e'en maun thol 't for Jean." + + "Gang up to May o' Mistycleugh, + Ye saw her late yestreen; + Ye'll find in her a lightsome love + Ye winna find in Jean." + + "Wi' bonny May o' Mistycleugh + I carena to be seen; + Her lightsome love I'd freely gie + For half a blink frae Jean." + + "Gang down to Madge o' Miryfaulds, + I ken for her ye green; + Wi' her ye 'll get a purse o' gowd-- + Ye 'll naething get wi' Jean." + + "For doity Madge o' Miryfaulds + I dinna care a preen; + The purse o' gowd I weel could want, + If I could hae my Jean." + + "Oh, yes! I 'll walk the wood wi' thee; + Oh, yes! I 'll walk the green; + But first ye 'll meet me at the kirk, + And mak' me aye your Jean." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[36] Portions of the first and second verses of this song are fragments +of an older ditty.--_Note by the Author._ + + + + +I MAUN GAE OVER THE SEA. + + + "Sweet summer now is by, + And cauld winter is nigh, + The wan leaves they fa' frae the tree; + The hills are white wi' snaw, + And the frosty winds blaw, + And I maun gie over the sea, Mary, + And I maun gie over the sea. + + "But winter will gang by, + And summer come wi' joy, + And Nature again will be free; + And wooers you will find, + And mair ye 'll never mind + The laddie that 's over the sea, Mary, + The laddie that 's over the sea." + + "Oh, Willie, since it 's sae, + My heart is very wae + To leave a' my friends and countrie; + But wi' thee I will gang, + Though the way it be lang, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea, Willie, + And wi' thee I 'll cross the saut sea." + + "The way is vera far, + And terrible is war, + And great are the hardships to dree; + And if I should be slain, + Or a prisoner ta'en, + My jewel, what would come o' thee, Mary? + My jewel, what would come o' thee? + + "Sae at hame ye maun bide, + And should it sae betide + That a bride to another ye be, + For ane that lo'ed ye dear + Ye 'll whiles drap a tear; + I 'll aften do the same for thee, Mary, + I 'll aften do the same for thee." + + The rowan tear down fell, + Her bosom wasna well, + For she sabbit most wofullie; + "Oure the yirth I wad gang, + And never count it lang, + But I fear ye carena for me, Willie, + But I fear ye carena for me." + + Nae langer could he thole, + She tore his vera soul, + He dighted her bonnie blue e'e; + "Oh, what was it you said, + Oh my ain loving maid? + I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary, + I 'll never love a woman but thee!" + + The fae is forced to yield, + And freedom has the field; + "Away I will ne'er gang frae thee; + Only death shall us part, + Keep sic thoughts frae my heart, + But never shall part us the sea, Mary, + But never shall part us the sea." + + + + + +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS + +FROM + +The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. + + + + +EVAN MACLACHLAN. + + +One of the most learned of the modern Gaelic song-writers, Evan +Maclachlan, was born in 1775, in a small hut called Torracaltuin, in the +district of Lochaber. After struggling with many difficulties in +obtaining the means of education, he qualified himself for the duties of +an itinerating tutor. In this capacity it was his good fortune to live +in the families of the substantial tenantry of the district, two of +whom, the farmers at Clunes and Glen Pean, were led to evince an +especial interest in his welfare. The localities of those early patrons +he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry, +supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was +fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's +College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he +gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the +celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years, +the office of librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected +master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on +the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he +devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease, +the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society, +under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief +amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of +Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has +been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed +from the following specimens in English verse. + + + + +A MELODY OF LOVE. + + The first stanza of this song was the composition of a + lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic, + and afterwards produced the following version of the + whole in English. + + + Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, + Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore: + Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail, + Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale. + + As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow, + The locks of my fair one redundantly flow; + Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display + When they glitter with dew on the morning of May. + + As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove, + Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love: + Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays, + Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze. + + The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn, + Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn: + But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain, + When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain. + + When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers, + While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers, + Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove, + And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love. + + + + +THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN. + + These verses are allegorical. In the character of a + song-bird the bard relates the circumstances of his + nativity, the simple habits of his progenitors, and his + own rural tastes and recreations from infancy, giving + the first place to the delights of melody. He proceeds + to give an account of his flight to a strange but + hospitable region, where he continued to sing his songs + among the birds, the flocks, the streams, and + cultivated fields of the land of his sojourn. This + piece is founded upon a common usage of the Gaelic + bards, several of whom assume the allegorical character + of the "Mavis" of their own clan. Thus we have the + Mavis of Clan-ranald by Mac-Vaistir-Allister--of + Macdonald (of Sleat) by Mac Codrum--of Macleod, and + many others. + + + Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, + And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely; + No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak, + No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek. + I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared + For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared: + Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn, + And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn; + Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care, + And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air. + + When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's[37] silver stream + Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam, + The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd, + As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd. + But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I + Among the glades of Cluaran[38] must imp my wings and fly; + Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove, + Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove. + + By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day, + Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray, + The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure, + And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure? + With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd, + Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd, + While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir, + That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire. + O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars + The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars + A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill + Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill. + + The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad, + It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd, + Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads + (A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads. + Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather, + Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither; + Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side + Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride. + + Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son-- + I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run, + I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece, + Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze. + The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well, + Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell! + The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far, + As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star! + I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see + The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea. + + Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine, + The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine; + And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell, + With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well. + + * * * * * + + And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade + That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd; + The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather, + Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together; + For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken; + 'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[37] The stream that flows through Glen Pean. + +[38] The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained for many +years of his tutor life. + + + + +THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.[39] + + + + +JOHN BROWN. + + +One of the bards of Cowal is believed to have been born in the parish of +Inverchaolain about 1750; his family name was Brun or Broun, as +distinguished from the Lowland Brown, which he assumed. He first +appeared as a poet by the publication, at Perth, in 1786, of a small +volume of Gaelic poetry, dedicated to the Duke of Montrose. The +subsequent portion of his career seems to have been chiefly occupied in +genealogical researches. In 1792 he completed, in two large sheets, his +"Historical and Genealogical Tree of the Royal Family of Scotland;" of +which the second edition bears the date 1811. This was followed by +similar genealogical trees of the illustrious family of Graham, of the +noble house of Elphinstone, and other families. In these productions he +uniformly styles himself, "Genealogist to his R. H. the Prince of Wales, +for Scotland." Brown died at Edinburgh in the beginning of the year +1821. He had formed a respectable connexion by marriage, under +circumstances which he has commemorated in the annexed specimen of his +poetry, but his latter years were somewhat clouded by misfortune. He is +remembered as a solicitor for subscriptions to his genealogical +publications. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[39] Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith of Clyde, +and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine. + + + + +THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY. + + The poet had paid his addresses to one of the sisters, + but without the consent of her relatives, who + ultimately induced her to wed another. After a lapse of + time the bard transferred his affection to another + daughter of the same distinguished family, and being + successful, was compensated for his former trials. + + + The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night, + And the stars were attired in the glory of light, + And the hope of the lover was shining as day, + When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away. + + Away she has gone at the touch of the helm, + And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm-- + But, would that his strength as his purpose was true, + At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew! + + Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time, + The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime, + And the _Brunach_[40] would joy, in the succour they gave, + To win him a bride, or to win him a grave. + + My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found, + Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound; + In the flush of my health and my penniless youth, + I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth. + + Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken + The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking; + A sister is salving a sister's annoy, + And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy. + + A bride worth the princesses England is rearing, + Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing; + If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before, + In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more. + + The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild + That in friendship or charity never beguiled, + She is mine--to Dunduala[41] that traces her stem, + As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them, + Though Donald[42] the gracious be head of her line, + And "our exiled and dear"[43] in her pedigree shine. + + Then hearken, ye men of the country I love! + Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love, + Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly, + May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[40] Brunach--The Brown, viz., the poet himself. + +[41] The Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the Scoto-Irish kings +who reigned in Dunstaffnage. + +[42] Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings. + +[43] Prince Charles Edward. + + + + +CHARLES STEWART, D.D. + + +The Rev. Dr Stewart was born at Appin, Argyllshire, in 1751. His mother +was a daughter of Edmonstone of Cambuswallace, the representative of an +old and distinguished family in the counties of Perth and Stirling; and +his father was brother of Stewart of Invernachoil, who was actively +engaged in the cause of Prince Charles Edward, and has been +distinguished in the romance of Waverley as the Baron of Bradwardine. +This daring Argyllshire chief, whom Scott represents as being fed in the +cave by "Davie Gellatly," was actually tended in such a place of +concealment by his own daughter, a child about ten years old. + +On receiving license, Dr Stewart soon attained popularity as a preacher. +In 1779, being in his twenty-eighth year, he was ordained to the +pastoral charge of the parish of Strachur, Argyllshire. He died in the +manse of Strachur on the 24th of May 1826, in the seventy-fifth year of +his age, and the forty-seventh of his ministry. A tombstone was erected +to his memory in the parochial burying-ground, by the members of the +kirk-session. Possessed of superior talents, a vast fund of humour, and +a delightful store of traditional information, he was much cherished by +a wide circle of admiring friends. Faithful in the discharge of the +public duties of his office, he was distinguished among his parishioners +for his private amenities and acts of benevolence. He was the author +only of one song, but this has attained much favour among the Gael. + + + + +LUINEAG--A LOVE CAROL. + + + No homeward scene near me, + No comrade to cheer me, + I cling to my dearie, + And sigh till I marry. + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Ra-ill O, + Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, + Was ever a May like my fairy? + + My youth with the stranger,[44] + Next on mountains a ranger, + I pass'd--but no change, here, + Will sever from Mary. + + What ringlets discover + Their gloss thy brows over-- + Forget thee! thy lover, + Ah, first shall they bury. + + Thy aspect of kindness, + Thy graces they bind us, + And, like Feili,[45] remind us + Of a heaven undreary. + + Than the treasures of Spain + I would toil more to gain + Thy love--but my pain, + Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary! + + When the shell is o'erflowing, + And its dew-drops are glowing, + No, never, thy snow on + A slander shall tarry. + + When viols are playing, + And dancers are Maying, + My eyes may be straying, + But my soul is with Mary. + + That white hand of thine + Might I take into mine, + Could I ever repine, + Or from tenderness vary? + + No, never! no, never! + My troth on 't for ever, + Lip to lip, I 'd deliver + My being to Mary. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[44] Invernahyle removed with his family to Edinburgh, and became very +intimate with the father of Sir Walter Scott. He seems to have made a +great impression on the future poet. + +[45] Festivals, saint-days. + + + + +ANGUS FLETCHER. + + +Angus Fletcher was born at Coirinti, a wild and romantic spot on the +west bank of Loch Eck, in June 1776. His education was chiefly conducted +at the parish school of Kilmodan, Glendaruel. From Glendaruel he went to +Bute, in 1791, where he was variously employed till May 1804, when he +was elected schoolmaster of Dunoon, his native parish. His death took +place at Dunoon in 1852. The first of the two following songs was +contributed anonymously to the _Weekly Journal_ newspaper, whence it was +transferred by Turner into his Gaelic collection. It soon became popular +in the Highlands, and the authorship came to be assigned to different +individuals. Fletcher afterwards announced himself as the author, and +completely established his claim. He was the author of various metrical +compositions both in Gaelic and English. + + + + +THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL. + + + Thy wily eyes, my darling, + Thy graces bright, my jewel, + Have grieved me since our parting + At the kirk of Glendaruel. + + 'Twas to the Kirkton wending + Bright eyes encounter'd duty, + And mavis' notes were blending + With the rosy cheeks of beauty. + + Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist, + Her arms, her instep queenly; + And her sweet parting lips are graced + With rows of ivory inly. + + When busy tongues are railing, + Lown is her word unsaucy, + And with modest grace unfailing + She trips it o'er the causey. + + Should royalty prefer me, + Preferment none I crave, + But to live a shepherd near thee, + On the howes of Corrichnaive. + + Would fortune crown my wishes-- + The shealing of the hill, + With my darling, and the rushes + To couch on, were my will. + + I hear, but not instruction, + Though faithful lips are pleading-- + I read thy eyes' perfection, + On their dew of mildness feeding. + + My hand is swiftly scrolling, + In the courts of reverend men;[46] + But, ah! my restless soul in + Is triumphing my Jean. + + I fear, I fear their frowning-- + But though they chased me over + Where Holland's flats[47] are drowning, + I 'll live and die thy lover. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[46] The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and clerk-depute +of presbytery. + +[47] The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the Duke of +York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword. + + + + +THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN. + + Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author. + + + Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes, + By a burnie's dimplit linn, + I told my love with artless blushes + To the lassie o' the glen. + + Oh! the birken bank sae grassy, + Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn; + Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie + Living in yon rashy glen! + + Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy + Shall be aye my fav'rite theme, + For on thy banks my Highland lassie + First confess'd a mutual flame. + + What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us, + In some sweet wee bow'ry den! + Or fondly stray amang the rashes, + Wi' the lassie o' the glen! + + And though I wander now unhappy, + Far frae scenes we haunted then, + I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy, + Nor the lassie o' the glen. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +_Aboon_, above. + +_Aumry_, a store-place. + +_Baum_, balm. + +_Beuk_, book. + +_Bicker_, a drinking vessel. + +_Burnie_, a small stream. + +_Caller_, cool. + +_Cled_, clad. + +_Clud_, cloud. + +_Couthy_, frank. + +_Daffin'_, merry-making. + +_Dighted_, wiped. + +_Doit_, a small coin. + +_Doitet_, dotard. + +_Douf_, sad. + +_Dree_, endure. + +_Dwine_, dwindle. + +_Fauld_, fold. + +_Fleechit_, cajoled. + +_Fykes_, troubles, anxieties. + +_Gaed_, went. + +_Gar_, compel. + +_Gate_, way. + +_Glour_, look earnestly. + +_Grannie_, grandmother. + +_Grat_, wept. + +_Grit_, great. + +_Haill_, whole. + +_Haud_, hold, keep. + +_Heuk_, reaping-hook. + +_Hie_, high. + +_Hinny_, honey. + +_Hizzie_, _Hussy_, a thoughtless girl. + +_Ken_, know. + +_Knows_, knolls, hillocks. + +_Laith_, loth. + +_Lift_, firmament. + +_Lowin'_, burning. + +_Minnie_, mother. + +_Parochin'_, parish. + +_Pu'_, pull. + +_Roos'd_, praised. + +_Sabbit_, sobbed. + +_Scour_, search. + +_Slee_, sly. + +_Speerin'_, inquiring. + +_Swiggit_, swallowed. + +_Syne_, then. + +_Thole_, endure. + +_Toom_, empty. + +_Troth_, truth, vow. + +_Trow_, believe. + +_Tyne_, lose. + +_Unco_, uncommon. + +_Wag_, shake. + +_Waur_, worse. + +_Ween_, guess. + +_Yirth_, earth. + +_Yowes_, ewes. + + +END OF VOL. IV. + +BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume +IV., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL *** + +***** This file should be named 19525.txt or 19525.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/2/19525/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Ted Garvin and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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