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MELODIES 
 
 AND 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS, 
 
 With Notes on the superstitions of the Highlanders, 
 &c. 
 
 BY 
 
 DONALD MACPHERSON. 
 
 " A wanderer in this wilderness of gloom , 
 A pensive minstrel of the north countrie ; 
 Misfortune's frost had nipped his early bloom, 
 And nought of wealth save mountain harp had he ; 
 Yet, 'midst his cares, and woes, and grief, 
 That mountain harp would yield relief." 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THOMAS AND GEORGE UNDERWOOD, 
 32, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1824. 
 

 Dc Jaques, Printer, Obeiiea. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO MAJOR GENERAL SAMUEL SWINTON. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I, at length, avail myself of the 
 kind permission you granted me, many 
 years ago, to lay my Poems at your feet. 
 Should they find their way to posterity, 
 it gives me pleasure to think that my es- 
 teem for your character, and reverence for 
 your virtues, will accompany them. But, 
 should they experience a different fate, it 
 will add, greatly, to my disappointment, 
 that my sentiments cannot be written on 
 less perishable materials, and that the 
 
11. 
 
 knowledge of my gratitude for the many 
 acts of kindness I have received from you, 
 must be limited to a period of time so far 
 short of my wishes. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your most devoted, 
 most obedient, 
 and much obliged 
 humble Servant, 
 DONALD MACPHERSON, 
 
 (Late Serjeant 75th Regiment.) 
 
 Chelsea, 28ih May, 
 1824. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The Author feels much diffidence in intro- 
 ducing his book to the world ; and much anxiety 
 respecting the reception it may meet with. The 
 pieces it contains were written at different periods, 
 between the age of sixteen and thirty-two, in the 
 course of a military life of fourteen years ; and, of 
 course, never intended for publication. During 
 the greater part of that time, the Author laboured 
 under the influence of ill health, and these trifles 
 served him as so many charms to arrest the hand 
 of Pain. Since, however, motives more urgent 
 than even " The love of Fame," have induced him 
 to resolve on publishing, he has spared no pains 
 in order to render them as perfect as he could : 
 and, in justice to his own intentions, and out of 
 respect to his readers, he must say, that if he did 
 not think them now worthy of attention, no mo- 
 tives, however pressing, could urge him to obtrude 
 them on the Public. 
 
 But, if he has, notwithstanding, failed, and 
 honest criticism, after fairly considering all these 
 
 a 3 
 
IV. 
 
 circumstances, must strip him of every pretension 
 to poetic merit, he trusts that he possesses, at 
 least, sufficient philosophy to enable him to bear 
 the disappointment without repining. 
 
 The Songs being unaccompanied with the 
 music, the Author has done all in his power to 
 render them as independent of that elegant aux- 
 iliary as possible ; yet he must beg of the cour- 
 teous reader, to make due allowance for the 
 disadvantages under which they must still appear ; 
 especially as the greater number of the airs to 
 which they are adapted are generally unknown. 
 
 For some trifles, at the end of the Volume, he 
 craves particular indulgence. They were in- 
 serted for the sake of a few private friends, to 
 whose knowledge of the incidents that gave rise 
 to them they owe all their interest. 
 
 To those friends who have so generously inter- 
 ested themselves in his welfare, and to his sub- 
 scribers in general, the Author offers his warmest 
 and most grateful thanks. They have afforded 
 him what, without their assistance, he could never 
 hope for; — a chance of attaining that distinction 
 so dear to every poet's heart. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Dedication 
 Preface 
 
 Song I-. From the Gaelic 5 
 
 > II. From the Gaelic ...... 8 
 
 Ill 11 
 
 *«••*• 1 V • ...... .«•••. ......... ...... ......... 14 
 
 V 17 
 
 • »••»• VI* ••••••••• ...**. ......... ..(...*.• ... 4i\) 
 
 VII 22 
 
 • ••••• V i II. ••»*•• •••••• *.i... ....... «« ...... &'~J 
 
 IX 27 
 
 • ••••• Ai •••»*...« «*.«••».. *•.... ...... ...«•• wv 
 
 XI 34 
 
 ...... Jvll. •••••* ...... .*»•». ...... ......... Of 
 
 XIII 40 
 
 • •••«% Al V i •••••• .......... ......... ...... ... TK-W 
 
 XV 44 
 
 XVI 46 
 
 XVII. Imitated from the Gaeiic 48 
 
 XVIII 51 
 
 XIX. 53 
 
 XX. The neat Brown Boy 55 
 
 XXI. The Hunter of the Moor 58 
 
VI. 
 
 PACE. 
 
 Song XXII. Morag — Imitated from the Gaelic. 63 
 
 XXIII. Scotia 69 
 
 XXIV. The Bonnet 74 
 
 .«.«•• J\. 2-k. V • •••••• •••••• •••••• •••••• ••#•#•••• OU 
 
 XXVL The Banks of Garry 84 
 
 ...... XXVII. ....••♦. ...... 88 
 
 ...... XXIX. Come to the Wilds 91 
 
 XXX 94 
 
 XXXI 96 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Hellas, a Poem 103 
 
 A View from Mount Neritos in Ithaca. 114 
 
 Maria, 119 
 
 Verses written in Burns's Poems ......... 123 
 
 The Lily and the Rose 126 
 
 On Time 130 
 
 lo JtieaLtu. ....•« ••«... ...... ...... ...#..... loo 
 
 a uream. ..•*..... .««.«. ...... ...... ...... ioo 
 
 To Poverty .,. 144 
 
 The Rose and the Oak.— A Fable 147 
 
 The Rose and the Oak. — From the Italian 151 
 
 Verses on the Massacre of Glencoe.— From the 
 
 Gaelic. 152 
 
 Ossian's Address to ,the Setting Sun. — From the 
 
 Gaelic. 154 
 
 Lines addressed to a Friend on New- Year's Morning 155 
 Glory 157 
 
vu. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A Country. ......... ...... ...••• ••«•••••» ... 159 
 
 A Writer of Scottish Descriptions ......... ...... 161 
 
 Law.— —Power. •••••» ••••••••. ...i.» ...... ... 163 
 
 Things Misplaced •• •••• • ib. 
 
 Rubro.— A Ballad. ......... ...... • 165 
 
 A Soldier's Letter versified 167 
 
 Epitaph on J. S. who expired at the Altar of 
 
 Bacchus .. 169 
 
 xo ijeaUvy. ...... ...... ...... ...... ...... jl/j. 
 
 Lines to a Friend with a bottle of Whiskey .,,... 173 
 
 A Sclavonic Ballad ...... ... 175 
 
 Epitaph on Cardinal Richelieu. ......... ......... 179 
 
 on L — n the Comedian ,. , „ 180 
 
 on an Elephant 181 
 
 on a Butcher , ib. 
 
 on a Monkey. .,.,.. .,.„. 182 
 
 Notes .„ , 185 
 
SONGS 
 
 &c. 
 
 SONG L 
 
 <++■**■*+•■**• 
 
 FROM THE GAELIC. 
 
 Air — John Roy Stewart's Lament for Lady 
 
 M c Intosh.—* 
 
 1. 
 
 O, what is lovelier than the beam 
 That gilds the mountain's brow, 
 Ere rosy Phoebus' orient blush 
 Illumes the vale below ? 
 
 The dimpling smile and youthful grace 
 That sweetly deck my Mary's face, 
 Are lovelier than the dawning beam 
 That gilds the mountain's brow. 
 
 * See Stewart's and Gillies's Collections of Gaelic Poems. 
 
 B 
 
6 
 
 II. 
 
 O, what is fairer than the cana, a 
 
 Waving in the breeze, 
 When summer laughs in flow'ry pride, 
 And verdure clothes the trees P 
 
 My Mary's snowy neck and breast, 
 By many a lurking Cupid prest, 
 Are fairer than the downy cana 
 Waving in the breeze. 
 
 III. 
 
 O, what is sweeter than the heath 
 That waves in crimson bloom, 
 
 And gives the wanton vagrant air 
 Its fragance and perfume? 
 
 The balmy tide zephyrus sips, 
 
 From Mary's ruby glowing lips, 
 Is sweeter than the fragrant heath 
 That waves in crimson bloom. 
 
IV. 
 
 O, who is happier than the king 
 
 That wears the regal crown, 
 While willing nations prostrate fall 
 Before his glittering throne ? 
 Yes, I'm by far a happier man 
 Than royal splendour ever can 
 Make the most proud or potent king, 
 For Mary is my own. 
 
 B 2 
 
SONG II. 
 
 ++•++•++++' 
 
 FROM THE GAELIC. 
 
 Air — Mart Laoghach. h 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells ; 
 Sweet the bubbling fountains and the dewy dales ; 
 
 Sweet the snowy blossom of the thorny tree ! 
 
 Sweeter is young Mary of Glensmole to me. 
 
 L 
 
 Sweet, O sweet! with Mary o'er the wilds to stray, 
 When Glensmole is dress'd in all the pride of May, — 
 And, when weary roving through the greenwood glade, 
 Softly to recline beneath the birken shade. 
 
 Sweet the rising mountains, &c. 
 
9 
 
 II. 
 
 There to fix my gaze, in raptures of delight, 
 On her eyes of truth, of love, of life, and light — 
 On her bosom, purer than the silver tide, 
 Fairer than the cana on the mountain's side. 
 Sweet the rising mountains, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 What were all the sounds contriv'd by tuneful men, 
 To the warbling wild-notes of our sylvan glen ? 
 Here the merry lark ascends on dewy wing, 
 There the mellow mavis and the black-bird sing. 
 Sweet the rising mountains, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 What were all the splendour of the proud and great 
 To the simple pleasures of our green retreat ? 
 From the crystal spring fresh vigour we inhale ; 
 Rosy health does court us on the mountain gale. 
 Sweet the rising mountains, &c. 
 B 3 
 
10 
 
 V. 
 
 Were I offered all the wealth that Albion yields, 
 All her lofty mountains and her fruitful fields, 
 With the countless riches of her subject seas, 
 I would scorn the change for blisses such as these. 
 Sweet the rosy mountains, &c. 
 
11 
 
 SONG III. 
 
 Am — " Cuir a chin dilis Thar am do Lamh : ,J c 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O, my love, leave me, leave me, leave me, 
 
 0, my love, leave me not to despair ! 
 The charms that have wounded alone can relieve me, 
 
 0, my love, leave me not to despair ! 
 
 I. 
 
 The breath of iny love's like the breath of the morn; 
 
 Like morning's bright beam is the glance of her ee ; 
 Her bosom is pure as the bloom of the thorn ; 
 
 Her voice is the song of the mavis to me* 
 O, my love, leave me, &c, 
 
12 
 
 II. 
 
 And canst thou forget, then, how often the grove, 
 Within the green bosom of yon woody vale, 
 
 Has smiled, as we whispered our vows of true love; 
 Vows lighter to thee than the breath of the gale. 
 O, my love, leave me, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 But those vows are to me even a part of the soul ; 
 
 Wherever I wander on life's stormy sea, 
 My heart, like the magnet, still true to the pole, 
 
 Beats only to love — and to love only thee. 
 
 O, my love, leave me, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And canst thou forget how I oft would compare 
 Thy ripe ruby lips to the fragrant heath-bell ; 
 
 Aud gathered such flowers to deck thy brown hair, 
 As only the bloom of thy cheeks could excel ? 
 O, my love, leave me, &c. 
 
13 
 
 V. 
 
 Pve seen the fair morning, the fairest in June, 
 Obscured by the pelting of wind and of rain ; 
 
 I've seen the day brighten again before noon, 
 
 And smile o'er the hills, and the vales, and the plain. 
 O, my love, leave me, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And my morning of love, by the gloom of disdain, 
 Has been early o'ercast, though the pride of the year; 
 
 But thy smile, like the sun that enlivens the plain, 
 Can bid the bright noon-tide of hope re-appear. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 O, my love, leave me, leave me, leave me, 
 
 O, my love, leave me not to despair ! 
 The charms that have wounded alone can relieve me ; 
 
 O, my love, leave me not to despair I 
 
14 
 
 SONG IV 
 
 AiR — Erim o Molly Aiken * 
 
 I. 
 
 Fare ye well, ye rising mountains, 
 Where Pve often chas'd the deer ; 
 Fare ye well, ye crystal fountains 
 And ye murmuring burnies clear. 
 
 Fare ye well, Braes of Laggati I 
 O'er the sea 1 must go. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fare thee well, my native cottage, 
 Where I've oft, in artless rhimes, 
 
 To the listening mountain -beauties, 
 Sung love-tales of other times. d 
 
 Fare ye well, &c. 
 
 * See McNeil's Poems. 
 
15 
 
 III. 
 
 Fare ye well, ye spreading mosses, 
 Waving with the Cana's plume ; 
 
 Fare ye well, ye verdant meadows, 
 Speckled with the daisy's bloom. 
 Fare ye well ! &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fare ye well, ye winding grottos, 
 And ye oozy caverns grey ; 
 
 Fare ye well, ye gloomy forests, 
 And adieu, ye 'Banks of Spey. 
 Fare ye well ! &cv 
 
 V. 
 
 Fare ye well, ye lakes whose billows 
 Glitter in the morning's glow ; 
 
 Fare ye well, ye waving willows, 
 And ye flowery vallies low. 
 
 Fare ye well ! &c. 
 
16 
 
 VI. 
 
 Fare thee well, thou sacred circle, e 
 Where the nodding yew-trees grow, 
 
 Round the mouldering moss-grown mansion 
 Where my fathers' dust lies low. 
 Fare ye well ! &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Tis not all the woes and perils, 
 
 Like a lowering wintry sky, 
 Gathering in a storm around me, 
 
 That could urge the bitter sigh. 
 Fare thee well ! &c. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I could bid adieu to Laggan, 
 
 From my friends and kindred part ; 
 
 But, to leave my dearest Morag, 
 
 It will break her faithful heart. 
 
 Fare ye well ! &c. 
 
17 
 
 SONG V. 
 
 Air— Roy's Wife. 1 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Will ye go to Aldavallich ? 
 Will ye go to Aldavallich } 
 Sweet the mellow mavis sings, 
 Amang the braes of Aldavallich. 
 
 There, beneath the spreading boughs, 
 Among the woods of green GlenfalKch, 
 
 Softly murmuring as it flows, 
 
 Winds the pure stream of Aldavallich. 
 Will ye go to Aldavallich, &c. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 II. 
 
 The first golden smile of morn, 
 
 And the last beam that evening shedeth, 
 
 Both that echoing vale adorn — - 
 
 That brightly glows, this mildly fadeth. 
 Will ye go, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Short is there hoar winter's stay, 
 When spring returns like Hebe blooming — 
 
 Hand in hand with rosy May, 
 
 With balmy breath the air perfuming, — 
 Will ye go, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Brushing o'er the diamond dew, 
 
 While Phoebus casts a lengthened shadow, 
 There the fairest maiden's pu* 
 
 The fairest flowers that deck the meadow. 
 Will ye go, &c. 
 
19 
 
 V. 
 
 But there's a flower, a fairer flower 
 Than ever grew in green Glenfallich, 
 
 The blooming maiden I adore, 
 
 Young blithesome May of Aldavallich. 
 Will ye go, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Let me but pu* this opening rose, 
 And fondly press, it to my bosom — 
 
 1 ask no other flower that blows, 
 Be mine this modest little blossom. 
 Will ye go, &c. 
 
 C 2 
 
20 
 
 SONG VI. 
 
 ++++■*+■++• 
 
 THE BANKS OF BEAULY. 
 
 Air — Ghille chrubich arms' a? Ghleann" — * 
 
 I. 
 
 The sky is clear unclouded blue ; 
 
 Softly sing the lark and linnet ; 
 
 Morning smiles, in diamond dew, 
 
 Upon the banks of Beauly. 
 
 The daisy white, the vi'let blue, 
 The primrose peeping to the view, 
 And many a flower of brighter hue, 
 Adorn the banks of Beauly. — 
 
 * This tune is commonly called Miss Drummond of Perth's Strathspey. 
 
21 
 
 II. 
 
 Stately swans, in snowy pride, 
 Sing their dying notes of sorrow, 
 As, with downy breasts, they glide 
 Along the waves of Beauly. 
 
 The lowing kine, the lambs at play, 
 The blackbird on the vocal spray. 
 Salute the rising eye of day, 
 Upon the banks of Beauly. 
 
 III. 
 
 Come then, Mary, to yon dell, 
 
 All among the hazel bushes ; 
 
 Hear my vows, and let me tell 
 
 Thee how I love thee truly. 
 
 Nor violet blue, nor rosy briar^ 
 Nor primrose to the infant year, 
 As thou to me, are half so dear, 
 
 Young blooming maid of Beauly. 
 C 3 
 
22 
 
 SONG VII. 
 
 ^ IR Tha n'oiche nochd ro anranach 's an (?eaw2~ 
 
 rarfA /flc/a fuar"—* 
 
 I. 
 
 O long and dreary is the might, 
 
 And heavy is the day ; 
 
 And sad and silent are the hours 
 
 When thou art far away. 
 
 When thou art far away, my love, 
 When thou art far away ; 
 O long and dreary is the night 
 When thou art far away. 
 
23 
 
 II. 
 
 O sweet the blossom on the thorn, 
 And sweet the new-mown hay ; 
 But ah ! to me no fragrance breathes 
 When thou art far away. 
 
 When thou art far away, my love, 
 
 When thou art far away ; 
 
 No more the summer smiles for me 
 
 When thou art far away. 
 
 III. 
 
 O sweet the bonnie blooming heath, 
 And sweet the morn in May ; 
 But nature has no sweets for me 
 When thou art far away. 
 
 When thou art far away, my love, 
 
 When thou art far away ; 
 
 'Tis gloomy winter all around 
 
 When thou art far away. 
 
 1 
 
24 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then hasten, Donald, back to me, 
 No longer stay away; 
 Then cheerfully shall summer smile, 
 And ail be blythe and gay. 
 
 No longer stay away, my love, 
 
 No longer stay away ; 
 
 But bring that peace I never know 
 
 When thou art far away. 
 
25 
 
 SONG VIII. 
 
 Air — u Pog a'nochd agus pog an roir. y 
 
 I. 
 
 Though December to others seems bleak and severe, 
 'Tis the dearest to me of the circling year ; 
 For it gave me a treasure, in giving a wife, 
 A lovelier flow'r than e'er spring brought to life. 
 
 II. 
 
 Though December to others seems bleak and severe, 
 'Tis the dearest to me of the circling year; 
 For it gave me two lips that outrival the rose, 
 And a bosom that's purer than new-driven snows. 
 
26 
 
 III. 
 
 It gave me a breath sweet as vernal perfume ; 
 It gave me two cheeks of the loveliest bloom ; 
 It gave me two eyes that are brighter than dew ; 
 And it gave me a heart that is faithful and true. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then welcome, December, though hoary with snow, 
 Thou art dearer to me than the summer's bright glow; 
 And my Mary, the treasure thou gavest to me, 
 Shall be dear when grown hoary and ancient like thee. 
 
 V. 
 
 When her beauty and bloom shall have yielded to age, 
 As the beauties of nature now yield to thy rage, 
 Then dear shall she be as the light of my eyes, 
 For her fond faithful heart is the jewel I prize ! 
 
27 
 
 SONG IX. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Air— « Sole a bhean a* throd u reom." — * 
 
 Friends of my soul ! friends of my heart ! 
 Since fate declares we soon must part/ 
 Let mirth and humour, ere we go, 
 Once more give smiles to every brow ; 
 This festive board be friendship's shrine, 
 And from this sparkling rosy wine, 
 Once more libations let us pour, 
 Before we part to meet no more. 
 
 * This is the Logan water of the Lowlands 
 
28 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou first best gift of heaven above ! 
 Thou bright celestial beam of love ! 
 How quick, at thy benign controul, 
 Despair and anguish fly the soul ! 
 Hail, friendship ! hail ! without thy aid, 
 This world were all a dreary shade ; 
 Thy voice can every ill beguile, 
 And teach e'en grief to wear a smile.) 
 
 III. 
 
 Farewell ! a long and last farewell ! 
 What pangs within that word 'farewell!' 
 Ye dear companions of my heart, 
 To meet no more, alas ! we part — 
 Yet let's rejoice that we have met, 
 And in our breasts remembrance sweet 
 Full oft arise, till life decays, 
 Of former happy, happy days. 
 
29 
 
 IV. 
 
 Adieu for me, where'er I go, 
 The social hours Fve spent with you, 
 When sparkling wit and smiling mirth 
 Forgot that care was on the earth ; 
 And friendship crownM the generous bowl, 
 And sweetly flowd from soul to soul, 
 Shall in my glowing bosom dwell — 
 And so farewell ! a last farewell ! 
 
 D 
 
30 
 
 SONG X. 
 
 >**• ■*#•.**#* 
 
 MAY. 
 
 To the foregoing Air. 
 
 I. 
 
 The balmy breath of blooming May 
 Makes all our hills and valleys gay ; 
 Young Flora decks our rosy bowers 
 With gay ambrosia breathing flowers, — 
 The warbling songsters of the grove 
 So sweetly chaunt their voice of love, 
 And wake to melody each spray, 
 To hail the lovely blooming May ! 
 
3L 
 
 II. 
 
 Bright Phcebus sheds his amber dew ; 
 All nature brightens at the view ; 
 The fields and forests all are green, 
 And naught but love and joy is seen. 
 The lowing kine and bleating flocks 
 Blythe wander o'er our glens and rocks ; 
 And kids and lambkins sport and play, 
 To hail the lovely blooming May. 
 
 III. 
 
 The primrose and the daisy spring, 
 And o'er the mead sweet fragrance fling, 
 The lily smiles with maiden air* 
 And roses bud upon the briar,- — 
 The yellow broom is fair to view, 
 And humble vi'let's darkly blue ; 
 And snow-white hawthorn's blossoms gay, 
 Perfume the breath of gentle May ! 
 D 2 
 
32 
 
 IV. 
 
 When smiling Morning lifts her eye, 
 And paints with gold the glowing sky,- 
 Pehold the rose-complexion' d lass, 
 Light tripping o'er the tender grassy 
 Along the dew-bespangl'd dale, 
 So gaily with her milking pail j 
 How sweet she sings her artless lay, 
 To hail the lovely blooming May I 
 
 V. 
 
 Then, dear Eliza, let us go 
 Where Calder's winding streamlets flow 
 Their shining pebbly beds along, 
 And listen to the mavis' song ; 
 There, all beneath the birken boughs* 
 Til gather flowers to deck thy brows, 
 And talk of love the live-long day, 
 Among the sweets of blooming May ! 
 
33 
 
 VI. 
 
 WeMl kiss and toy, and toy and kiss, 
 And take our full of heavenly bliss, 
 Nor envy all the pomp and state 
 Attendant on the proud and great ; 
 Upon a bed by nature dress'd, 
 Til fondiy clasp thee to my breast, 
 c And in soft raptures melt away/ 
 Among the blooming sweets of May ! 
 
 
 D 3 
 
34 
 
 SONG XI. 
 
 *r*-4*-+r++ 
 
 GLEN TROOM. 
 
 Air — " Se *nt y Earach e *s gur math lecm e 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The milk-white thorn and the yellow broom, 
 Arid the waving birk, in vernal bloom, 
 Blithe Nature weaves in her fairy loom, 
 A mantle gay for sweet Glen-Troomv 
 
 I. 
 
 The voice of song on every spray, 
 Proclaims the coming month of May, 
 Since Spring has chased the hoary gloom, 
 That spread awhile o'er sweet Glen-Troom. 
 The milk-white thorn, &c. 
 
 * This is* v«ry ancient Gaelic Air, the sama asTtie White Cockade 
 
 » * h 
 
35 
 
 / 
 II. 
 
 The shepherd drives his fleecy care, 
 O'er mountains wide and pastures rare, 
 Since Phoebus' L glowing beams relume 
 The summer Shells of sweet Glen-Troom. 
 The milk-white thorn, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 The moor-cock leads his speckled bride 
 Along Loch-Erroch's sunny side, 
 Since Love and Mirth their reign resume 
 O'er all that live in sweet Glen-Troom. 
 The milk-white thorn, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Our lads are brave, our lasses fair, 
 Our burnies clear, and pure our air; 
 And Plenty's horn is never toom, 
 .Among the braes of sweet Glen-Troom, 
 The milk-white thorn, &c. 
 
36 
 
 V. 
 
 Then lassie leave the city's noise. 
 And share with me the thousand joys, 
 That rise around my happy home, 
 Among the braes of sweet Glen-Troom. 
 The milk-white thorn, &c. 
 
37 
 
 SONG XII. 
 
 " ÀIR — Tha durachd mo chr? dhut" 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O dear to the mother the bairn on her knee* 
 And sweet to the captive the hour he set free $ 
 And dear is the bosom of Spring to the bee, 
 But dearer and fairer my Mary to me, 
 
 i. 
 
 The first time I saw her, when scarcely sixteen, 
 Wi' the* bright beaming glance of her dark rolling een, 
 My heart frae my bosom a captive she staw, 
 And has that heart a keeping, tho' far, far awa. 
 O dear to the mother, &c. 
 
38 
 
 II. 
 
 I've long been a wanderer on many a shore, 
 From India's fair climate to wild Labradore; 
 I've seen full many a fair maid, but none ever saw 
 Sae fair as my Mary that's far, far awa. 
 
 dear to the mother, &c. 
 
 HI. 
 
 The day that we parted ère Ì gaed to seà, 
 (O sad was the moment to Mary and me !) 
 As I kissed off her tears that like dew-drops did fa* 
 She promised aye to loe me tho* far, far awa. 
 O dear to the mother, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 O dear are thy vales Caledonia to me ; 
 Thou birth-place of heroes, the brave and the free, 
 Thy rough rising mountains high covered wi' >snaw, 
 The land where my Mary lives far, far awa. 
 O dear to the mother, &c. 
 
39 
 
 V. 
 
 Should Fortune, my Mary, with favouring smile, 
 With riches reward all my pains and my toil, 
 Her gifts shall be thine, and heart without flaw ; 
 And I never mair shall leave thee to rove far awa. 
 O dear to the mother, &c. 
 
40 
 
 SONG XIII. 
 
 " Air — Mhari mhin mheallshuilach dhukfu 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Bright thy eye, snowy thy neck, 
 Soft thy smile modest and meek, 
 Red the rose blooms on thy cheek, 
 My young lovely Mary. 
 
 \ I. 
 
 No lordly dame with courtly air, 
 By Fashion dress'd in costly gear, 
 Can e'er to me seem half so fair, 
 As my young lovely Mary. 
 - Bright thy eye, &c 
 
41 
 
 II. 
 
 Let Fortune scowl with threatening eye, 
 Come weal, come wae, I carena by, 
 Life's checquered paths Til blithely try, 
 With my young lovely Mary. 
 Bright thy eye, &c. 
 
 E 
 
42 
 
 SONG XIV. 
 
 Air — " Thuirt iad gun robh snaoisan 's a 
 Mhullin dubh." 
 
 1 
 
 There lives a lass in yonder glen, 
 The fairest lass, the dearest lass ; 
 O, were that lassie ance my ain, 
 Gie crowns to them wha* choose' em ! 
 Young Love sits smiling aye between 
 Her bright and pawky rovin' een, 
 The daisy on the dewy green 
 Less pure is than her bosom. 
 
43 
 
 II. 
 
 Her lips are like twa rose-buds, 
 
 When Summer's breath perfumes the heath, 
 
 And round the bush the roe scuds 
 
 To crop the fairest flowers : 
 
 Her smile is like the morning's ee, 
 
 Her lovely smile, mair dear to me 
 
 Than to the thirsty earth can be 
 
 The saft descending showers. — 
 
 Ill- 
 Let the soft voice of Pleasure, 
 With syren song, delude the throng : 
 Let Av'rice count her treasure, 
 And dig the glowing mine, love, 
 Let Fortune's sun on others shine 
 Be mine to press thy form divine 
 To this fond faithful heart of mine, 
 And hear thee say M Fam thine love ! M 
 
 E 2 
 
44 
 
 SONG XV. 
 
 Air— " An Gligram chos 
 
 i w 
 
 I. 
 
 Coming through the silent glen, 
 That skirts yon flowery meadow. 
 I met a maid whose beauties rare 
 A saint might bow the knee to. — 
 
 II. 
 
 Her form was straight, her eyes were bright, 
 Her cheeks were fair and rosy ; 
 Her lips were ripe and wooed to taste— 
 The place was snug and cozie. 
 
45 
 
 III. 
 
 Her neck was like the downy swan ; 
 Her breath the hawthorn's blossom — 
 And,, oh ! Pll love that peerless maid 
 While life shall warm my bosom. 
 
 E 3 
 
 
46 
 
 SONG XVI. 
 
 Air — u Deoch slainte na y n Gaisgeach. 
 
 O, why do those heath-bells, so fresh and so blooming, 
 
 Give fragrance that heath-bells* could ne'er give before ? 
 
 A wanton young Zephyr, while lately a roaming, 
 
 Found Mary asleep in a green shady bower; 
 
 He gently stole nigh, — the pilferer sligh !— 
 
 And loaded his wings with the balm of her breath, 
 
 And as he flew by, in a whispering sigh, 
 
 He scattered the fragrance on yon blooming heath. 
 
47 
 
 II 
 
 O, why does the rose-bud that grows on yon thorn, 
 Outrival in beauty, resplendence of dye, 
 The brightest and fairest effulgence of morn, 
 That spreads like a mantle of light on the sky ? 
 A Zephyr that left the fair bosom of Spring, 
 Where Zephyrs their dewy ambrosia sip, 
 Found Mary asleep, as he flew on light wing, 
 And he gave to yon rose what he stole from her lip. — - 
 
 III. 
 
 O, why does the daisy that smiles through the dew, 
 
 As it rears its meek head in the valley below, 
 
 All flowers excelling, seem fairer to view, 
 
 Than the brow of yon mountain when covered with 
 
 snow ? 
 A Zephyr of Summer stole into the breast, 
 Of Mary, as through the green valley he flew, 
 And the hue of her bosom the vagrant imprest, 
 On yon daisy that smiles through the sparkling dew. 
 
 1 
 
48 
 
 SONG XVII. 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE GAELIC. 
 
 Air — " Feasgar Luain, a's mi air chuairt—" 
 
 'Twas when the heath put on the bell, 
 
 And birks in a' their pride were seen, 
 
 And a thousand wild-flowers decked the dale, 
 
 And Nature smiled to view the scene, 
 
 As on Loch-Laggan's margin green, 
 
 Just as the orient sun-beams rose, 
 
 I mused alone, a maid was seen 
 
 Beneath the spreading hazel boughs, — 
 
49 
 
 n. 
 
 Her cheeks were like the rowan red, 
 Her neck was like the Cana fair ; 
 Her eyes were like the diamond dew, 
 In wrestling ringlets k flowed her hair : 
 With softest caution I drew near, 
 To gaze upon the vision bright- 
 Perfection's hand could do nae mair,— 
 She was a beam of life and light. l 
 
 III. 
 
 She sang till Echo far and near, 
 Through all her rocks and caverns rang, 
 The soul of heavenly sounds was there, 
 You'd think twas Concord's self that sang- 
 I, like a lifeless statue, hung 
 On the celestial harmony ; 
 And aye the burden of her song 
 Was, Colin, haste to love and me. — 
 
50 
 
 IV. 
 
 While thus she sang, I looked around, 
 And lo ! a youth of manly air, 
 Came o'er the moss with many a bound, 
 And bent his way where sat the fair— 
 >f Twas Colin, — and the lovely pair 
 Embraced, in extacies of joy, — 
 I wished them bliss for ever mair, 
 As with light heart I look my way. — 
 
51 
 
 SONG XVIII. 
 
 Ye bonnie bonnie hills, by yon green wood side ! 
 Ye wild winding streamlets that murmuring glide! 
 How happy have ye seen me with my lovely bride ! 
 u But now she's for ever laid low.— 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou mavis that sing'st in the gay beams of morn, 
 How pleased did we list to thy voice from yon thorn 
 But now since my Morag's for ever from me torn, 
 Thy song but adds weight to my woe. — 
 
52 
 
 III. 
 
 Ah, Death ! cruel Death ! could not youths fairest 
 bloom, 
 
 And beauty and virtue arrest thy hard doom ? 
 
 And save my soul's delight from the cold silent tomb, 
 
 And avert for awhile thy fell blow ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now farewell, ye hills ! and ye greenwoods adieu ! 
 Ye wild birds, no more can your carols renew 
 My pleasure, for Morag is lost to my view, 
 And my sorrows for ever must flow. — 
 
53 
 
 SONG XIX. 
 
 Air — " Mo nighean du tha boigheach du\" 
 
 I. 
 
 My peace fled; I cannot rest, 
 
 The tale I tell most true is; 
 
 My heart's been stolen from my breast 
 
 By lovely Nancy Lewis. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fair is the blossom of the thorn, 
 And bright the morning dew is ; 
 But sweeter than the dewy morn, 
 The smiles of Nancy Lewis,-— 
 F 
 
54 
 
 III. 
 
 The eye that's sparkling black I love, 
 Aye, more that which blue is ; 
 And thine are like two stars above, 
 And sloe-black, Nancy Lewis.— 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! their power I fee], 
 My bosom pierced right through is, 
 In pity then that bosom heal, 
 My charming Nancy Lewis. 
 
 V. 
 
 O bless me with thy heaven of charms, 
 And take a heart that true is — 
 While circling life my bosom warms, 
 I'm thine, dear Nancy Lewis, — 
 
55 
 
 SONG XX. 
 
 THE NEAT BROWN BOY. 
 
 s*# .#***** 
 
 Air— <( An Gille du' ciar du\" m 
 
 I. 
 
 Now harmony floats on the voice of the morning, 
 To hail the gay bright beaming summer returning ; 
 In mantles of verdure the vallies adorning, 
 The woodlands re-echo with wild notes of joy. 
 F 2 
 
56 
 
 The pulse of young Pleasure beats high e'en to mad- 
 ness, 
 No brow without smiles, and no heart without gladness, 
 Save mine, which, alone, full of sorrow and sadness, 
 Still sighs for my young, gallant, neat brown boy. 
 
 in: 
 
 No more in the glens that our loves used to witness, 
 The wild bounding roe shall I rival in fleetness ; 
 My cheek's lost its roses, my song's lost its sweetness, 
 Since far, far away is my neat brown boy. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They promise me titles, they promise me treasure, 
 If I would forsake him, but what can give pleasure 
 To Love's bleeding bosom ? Can Time cease to measure 
 His round ? or can I cease to think of my boy ? 
 
57 
 
 V. 
 
 I would smile at the world in pursuit of a toy, 
 From yon spreading wild, with no care to annoy, 
 And possess what proud grandeur can never enjoy, 
 Content—in a cave, with my neat brown boy. 
 
 F 3 
 
58 
 
 SONG XXI. 
 
 <##**>*#>**> 
 
 THE HUNTER OF THE MOOR. 
 
 A BALLAD. n 
 Air— " Soraidh slan do'n ailegan" 
 
 I. 
 
 See where the evening sunbeams shine, 
 With soft departing ray, 
 Upon the bosom of yon glen, 
 Among the mountains gray ; 
 And see yon neat and lowly cot, 
 Whose thatch is moss-grown o'er, — 
 All in that cot young Donald lived, 
 The hunter of the moor. 
 
59 
 
 : n- 
 
 O, fair and ruddy were his cheeks, 
 
 His locks of lovely brown ; 
 
 His smile was like the summer morn, 
 
 His wrath the storm's frown. 
 
 To make him all a maid could wish, 
 
 Kind Nature culled her store; 
 
 He was the flower of all the vale, 
 
 The hunter of the moor. 
 
 HI. 
 
 When winter blew, with biting breath, 
 
 Among the mountains drear, 
 
 Right fearlessly he sought the heath, 
 
 And chased the dark-brown deer ; 
 
 Tho* the frozen North came blustering forth, 
 
 With visage grim and hoar, 
 
 No terror seized th* intrepid soul 
 
 Of the hunter of the moor. 
 
60 
 
 IV. 
 
 On Calder's bonnie winding banks, 
 In beauty's bloom and pride, 
 To gain the youthful hunter's love, 
 Full many a maiden sighed ; 
 And there was one above the rest, 
 Young Donald did adore, 
 But she could countless thousands tell, 
 * And he, alas ! was poor ! 
 
 V. 
 
 And dearly did the maid again 
 Return the hunter's love ; 
 But, ah ! her sire, a haughty Thane, 
 Would not their loves approve — 
 Iberia by the treacherous Gaul, 
 Was drenched in native gore, 
 And Donald went to seek for fame 
 Upon a foreign shore, — 
 
61 
 
 VI. 
 
 Th' unconquered warriors of the North, 
 
 For freedom took the field, 
 
 And taught, like their brave sires of yore, 
 
 Proud Gallia's sons to yield ; 
 
 But tho* triumphant Victory's hand, 
 
 Britannia's lion bore, 
 
 She mourned, among her heroes slain, 
 
 The hunter of the moor. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Exulting Fame with tidings flew 
 
 To Albion's stormy wild, 
 
 And Scotia list'ning to her tale, 
 
 Alternate, wept and smiled ; 
 
 And as she moved in triumph forth, 
 
 As she'd done oft before, 
 
 A wreath of sad funereal yew, 
 
 Around her brows she wore. 
 
62 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The maid of Calder sought the bower, 
 Where Donald oft she'd met, 
 And gave to love the passing hour, 
 And parted with regret, — 
 No tear relieved her swelling grief, 
 But soon her grief was o'er— 
 Her faithful bosom heaved — it burst- 
 She fell to rise no more. — 
 
 IX. 
 
 And still, as Spring the infant year, 
 
 Enrobes in mantle green, 
 
 Around fair Morag's mouldering grave, 
 
 The village maids are seen — 
 
 They deck the hallowed heaving turf, 
 
 With many a lovely flower, 
 
 And mourn the faithful maid that died 
 
 For the hunter of the moor. — 
 
63 
 
 SONG XXII. 
 
 MORAG. o 
 
 ***#-***#> 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE GAELIC, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 My earliest love was Morag, 
 And still I love my Morag ; 
 I never loved but Morag, 
 And ne'er can love but Morag. 
 
64 
 
 I. 
 
 The tongue of Slander may, love, 
 When I was far away^ love, 
 Have whispered in thy ear, love, 
 That I was insincere, love : 
 But^ ah ! to doubt forbear, love. 
 My earliest love, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 Canst thou forget the wild wood, 
 Where passed our days of childhood, 
 And where we wandered free, love, 
 When youth was full of glee, love, 
 And thou wert all to me, love ? 
 
 Then how I love thee, Morag ! 
 
65 
 
 III* 
 
 Where Calder murmuring flows, love, 
 To deck thy breast and thy brows, love, 
 The gayest flowers, I chose 'em, 
 But the daisy's whitest blossom 5 
 Looked pale on thy fair bosom. 
 
 My earliest love was, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The swan shall cease to lave, love, 
 Upon the crystal wave, love, 
 The grass shall cease to grow, love, 
 The streams shall cease to flow, love, 
 Ere I forget my vow, love, 
 My earliest, &c. 
 
 G 
 
ORIGINAL SONGS. 
 
69 
 
 SONG XXIII. 
 
 SCOTIA. 
 
 Tcjse — " John of Badenyon" 
 
 I. 
 
 " When Scotia, heavenly maid, was young" p 
 ('Tis since full many a year;) 
 She lightly tripped the heath among, 
 And chased the dark-brown deer ; 
 And all beneath the birken shade, 
 Right merrily sung she, 
 And aye the burden of her song 
 Was, « Scotia shall be free/' 
 G 3 
 
70 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Upon a mountain's misty brow, 
 Stern Independence stood, 
 His manly breast was in a glow, 
 When thus the maid he viewed ; 
 He wooed and won the lovely fair, 
 Beneath the greenwood tree, 
 And angel music hailed the rite 
 With, " Scotia shall be free/' 
 
 III. 
 
 Old Time on eagle pinions flew, q 
 
 And Valour saw the light, 
 
 Their eldest born, a blooming boy- 
 
 It filled them with delight < 
 
 No cradle but the flowery grass, 
 
 Or blooming heath had he ; 
 
 They hushed him with the lullaby 
 
 Of, " Scotia shall be free." 
 
71 
 
 IV. 
 
 The next that blessed their anxious view. 
 
 Was a fair female child — 
 
 Her mother's image in her grew, 
 
 Majestic, firm, and mild ; 
 
 Her form was like the cedar straight, 
 
 They named her Liberty ; 
 
 And the first words she learned to lisp, 
 
 Were, " Scotia shall be free." 
 
 Full many a year, in rural bliss, 
 
 Among their hills they knew ; 
 
 Some till the glebe, some pen the flock, 
 
 And some the chase pursue: 
 
 The worthy pair beheld with joy 
 
 Their rising progeny, 
 
 With heart and hand, prepared to die, 
 
 Or, living, to be free. — 
 
72 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ambitious Rome, elate with pride, 
 
 Sent her bold legions north ; 
 
 They met them, on the Caron's side, 
 
 And by the winding Forth ; 
 
 And soon the Caron's crimsoned stream, 
 
 Bore tidings to the sea, 
 
 That Romans lied, and Romans died, 
 
 And « Scotia would be free." 
 
 VII. 
 
 The wild Scandinians, fierce and fell, 
 Came thirsting for their blood, 
 But Largs and Loncarty can tell 
 
 How were those foes subdued : 
 
 Our hardy heroes filled the air 
 
 With shouts of Victory, 
 
 And taught their foes, with sturdy blows, 
 
 That « Scotia would be free." 
 
73 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Her bravest rival lived besouth 
 
 The silver flowing Tweed, 
 
 From Ocean and Britannia sprung, 
 
 Fair twins of heavenly breed ; 
 
 Pale envy stung brave An glials breast, 
 
 In hostile guise came she; 
 
 But learnt too late, at Bannockburn, 
 
 That " Scotia would be free." 
 
 IX. 
 
 When Discord long, with baneful voice, 
 
 And War with bloody hand, 
 
 Had scattered ruin far and wide. 
 
 O'er the devoted land, 
 
 Britannia interposed ; they joined 
 
 In endless amity ; 
 
 And now and ever be our song, 
 
 " Britannia shall be free/' 
 
74 
 
 SONG XXIV. 
 
 THE BONNET. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 I sing of a bonnet, a bonnet so blue, 
 Attend to my tale, tho' tale, it is true ; 
 This bonnet was made by a famous old dame, 
 Perhaps you have heard, Caledonia her name, 
 Derry down, &c. — 
 
75 
 
 II 
 
 This dame had two sons, she loved dear as her life, 
 Who ne'er shrunk from hardship, or danger, or strife, 
 Young Sandy, a farmer who followed the plough, 
 And Donald, a hunter, with quiver and bow. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 One day, as this matron had called them together, 
 She said u my dear boys, be advised by your mother ; 
 Let not pride nor ambition, whatever betide, 
 Nor any cause else e'er your friendship divide. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 This bonnet I give you, it cost me some pains ; 
 Beware that it ever unsullied remains 
 By the touch of a foe, for Pd have you to wit, 
 That with the said bonnet your freedom is knit/' 
 Derry down, &c 
 
76 
 
 V. 
 
 They received it with reverence, and swore with one 
 
 breath, 
 They would die to defend it and glory in death ; 
 On the top of a standard then reared it in air, 
 And a motto was writ on it " Touch it who dare"— * 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 This haughty ^defiance spread all the world round, 
 But none to attempt could so hardy be found, 
 Till a terrible giant right furiously swore, 
 He should bear it to wild Scandinavia's shore. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 * A paraphrastic translation of " Nemo me impune lacessit." 
 
77 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then vauntingly o'er the wide ocean he came, 
 His mouth in a foam, and his eyes in a flame; 
 But scarce had his foot left the watery wave, 
 Where for conquest he looked, when he met with a 
 grave. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 With full resolution the bonnet to claim, 
 From the banks of the Tiber two bullies next came; 
 But soon farmer Sandy the dispute did settle, 
 For he knocked out the brains of the first with his 
 pettle. 
 
 Deny down, &e. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The other, beholding his fellow's defeat, 
 Instead of his hands, made the best of his feet; 
 
 H 
 
78 
 
 But Donald so cleverly followed his track, 
 That in vain he attempted to trace his way back. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 X. 
 
 The envious Gaul, too, beheld the blue bonnet, 
 And set all his heart and his soul full upon it; 
 u To arms, my brave boys!" to his warriors he cries, 
 < f Make yonder blue bonnet and glory your prize." 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then he called all his sons and his friends to his 
 
 aid, 
 And they certainly made a most threatening parade ; 
 But our heroes laid on them so fast and so thick, 
 That at sight of a bonnet e'er since they grow sick. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
79 
 
 XII. 
 
 So, where first 'twas set up, the blue bonnet still 
 
 stands, 
 Unsullied by base sacrilegious hands; 
 And the Fates have pronounced, it shall ever remain 
 Untouched by a foe, undisgraced by a stain. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 H 2 
 
80 
 
 SONG XXV. 
 
 I. 
 
 When the sky is clear and blue, 
 
 And the evening wat wi' dew, 
 
 And the spreading thorn is new clad wi 5 blossoms 
 
 white as snaw, 
 When the fields in green are dressed, 
 And the sun has left the west, 
 And the low on the lift is just fadin* awaV— 
 
 When the low on the lift, 
 
 When the low on the lift, 
 When the low on the lift is just fadin* awa > 
 
 When the fields in green are dressed, 
 
 As the sun has left the west, 
 And the low on the lift is just fadin* awa';— 
 
81 
 
 II. 
 
 When the birds have ceased their song, 
 And the Echo's notes prolong 
 The roaring of the strong dashing lins as they fa', 
 When the kye hae sought the lair, 
 And the bat wheels through the air, 
 And the low on the lift is just fadin* awa; 
 When the low, &c. 
 
 HI. 
 
 0, sweet at such an hour, 
 When my daily toil is owre, 
 And the mantle of silence is spread over a% 
 To steal out to meet my dear, 
 When naebody can hear, 
 As the low on the lift is just fadin' awa*. 
 When the low, &c. 
 
 H 3 
 
82 
 
 IV. 
 
 0, what pleasure is mine! 
 It is almost divine — 
 
 A pleasure unknown in the proud lordly ha', 
 As we talk of future bliss, 
 Between each glowing kiss, 
 As the low on the lift is just fadin* awa\ 
 When the low, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Tho* I hae but little gear, 
 
 Fm a stranger to care, 
 
 Fve health, and for riches 1 care not a straw, 
 
 While I meet my lovely maid, 
 
 And row her in my plaid, 
 
 As the low on the lift is just fadin' awa' — 
 
83 
 
 As the low on the lift, 
 
 As the low on the lift, 
 As the low on the lift is just fadin' awa'- 
 While I meet my lovely maid, 
 And row her in my plaid, 
 As the low on the lift is just fadin' awa'. 
 
84 
 
 SONG XXVI. 
 
 THE BANKS OF GARRY. 
 
 Tune. — " O'er the moor amang the heather." * 
 I, 
 When rosy May embalmed the air, 
 And verdure fringed the winding Garry, 
 Upon a dewy morning fair, 
 I met my lovely Highland Mary. 
 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the silver-winding Garry, 
 When rosy May embalmed the air, 
 I met my lovely Highland Mary. 
 
 * 1 am not sure that this is a Gaelic air, though it is well known 
 in the Highlands, under the name of 
 
 " Ho ro na m* bith thu agam 
 
 Anns àn fraoch a m braighe a bhadain," 
 

 85 
 
 II. 
 
 Softly waved the birken tree. 
 The little birds were gay and airy, 
 Sweetly flowed their melody, 
 Upon the gay green banks of Garry. 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the silver- winding Garry, 
 Sweetly flowed their melody, 
 Upon the gay green banks of Garry* 
 
 III. 
 
 Softly blew the western breeze, 
 The gamesome lambs played round so merry, 
 Blooming flowers drooped with bees, 
 Upon the winding banks of Garry ; 
 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the gay green banks of Garry, 
 In her best robes fair Nature smiled, 
 Upon the flowery banks of Garry. 
 
86 
 
 IV. 
 
 But what were morning wet wi* dew, 
 And all the flowers that fringe the Garry, 
 When first arose upon my view, 
 A beam of light, my Highland Mary] 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the crystal-winding Garry; 
 'Twould make a saint forget his creed, 
 To meet her by the winding Garry. 
 
 V. 
 
 Nor balmy gales that fan the spring, 
 And on their wings sweet odours carry, 
 Nor summer flowers such fragrance fling 
 As does the breath of Highland Mary. 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the silver-winding Garry 
 As light as Fairies skim the dew 
 She tript along the winding Garry. 
 
87 
 
 VI. 
 
 O, speed thee Time on swifter wing, 
 Around thy ring, nor slowly tarry ! 
 O, haste the happy hour to bring, 
 That gives to me my Highland Mary ! 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the silver- winding Garry, 
 Take, Fortune, all the world beside, 
 I ask no more than Highland Mary. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then lords and kings Til envy not, 
 Their cumbrous pomp I'd scorn to carry, 
 Far happier in my humble cot, 
 A better lot with Highland Mary. 
 
 On the flowery banks of Garry, 
 By the silver-winding Garry, — 
 The barren wilds have joys for me, 
 If thou art there, my Highland Mary. 
 
88 
 
 SOING XXVII. 
 
 .*#.##■*#*#' 
 
 Tune. "The Braes of Burnie Bussle" 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Will ye gang wi' me, lassie, 
 To the bonnie braes of Laggan? 
 All my care shall be, lassie, 
 Ever to content ye, 
 
 I. 
 
 My cottage stands beneath a hill, 
 Beside a siller-winding rill; 
 It may be your's, lass, an you will, 
 And it may weel content ye. 
 
 Will ye gang wi' me, lassie, &c. 
 

 89 
 
 II. 
 
 The crystal Spey runs roaring by, 
 Reflecting mountains, trees, and sky ; 
 The little birds that round us fly, 
 Their sweetest numbers chaunt, aye — 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 When summer busks tljQ boughs in green, 
 And a* things gay and sweet are seen, 
 The crimson heath-bell crowns the scene, 
 Sae fragrant and sae dainty,— 
 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ye shall hae fouth o* milk and meal, 
 Til kill the roe-buck o' the hill, 
 I hae a heart that's true and leal, 
 That beats but to content ye. 
 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 
 I 
 
90 
 
 V. 
 
 In Laggan's bonrrie flowery glen, 
 Our snaw-white bleating flocks well pen; 
 Wi' modest dames and honest men 
 We'll live baith gay and canty. 
 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As through the f ath of life ye gae, 
 Wi' sweetest flowers I'll strew the way ; 
 I'll soothe your ev'ry care and wae, 
 In ev'ry wish prevent ye. 
 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And when auld age shall nip our bloom, 
 We'll sink together to the tomb, 
 While neighbours round our grave shall come, 
 And wi' kind tears lament ye. 
 
 Will ye gang, &c. 
 

 91 
 
 SONG XXIX. 
 
 COME TO THE WILDS. 
 
 ******«*> 
 
 Air, — " Tarry awhile with me my lovè v ,? 
 
 I. 
 
 Now balmy June displays her flowers, 
 
 In Morning's rosy ee, 
 Ancl every gentle breeze that blaws, 
 
 " Brings hame the labouring bee." 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then come to the wilds with me, my love, 
 Come to the wilds with me— 
 
 Leave all thy kin and cares behind, 
 And come to the wilds with me — 
 I 2 
 
92 
 
 / 
 II. 
 
 Here mountains seem to touch the sky, 
 
 In rising majesty; 
 And dashing torrents pour their floods, 
 
 White foaming to the sea. 
 
 Then come to the wilds, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Lone Echo answers, from her cave, 
 
 The hunter's minstrelsy, 
 And feathered warblers tune their throats, 
 
 On every spreading tree. 
 
 Then come to the wilds, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Our hardy swains shall hail thee, love, 
 
 With blithe sincerity, 
 For here no courtly smile conceals 
 
 Deceit and Perfidy. 
 
 Then come to the wilds, &c. 
 
93 
 
 V. 
 
 What, though no gilded pomp be mine 
 
 To pamper luxury, 
 Here Nature's voice invites to range 
 
 The verdant vallies free. 
 
 Then come to the wilds, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Let others boast their hoarded gold, 
 
 Or pompous pedigree, 
 I boast a true and faithful heart, 
 
 That ne'er can love but thee — 
 
 Then come to the wilds, &c. 
 
 I 3 
 
94 
 
 SONG XXX. 
 
 i** ■#*#*.*#' 
 
 By a Highlander, the only person saved of the 
 crew of a vessel wrecked on an uninhabited island, 
 in the Northern Ocean, in the year 1703. — 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye storms whose rude blasts have entomb'd hi the 
 
 deep, 
 
 My friends and companions, why leave me to weep ? 
 
 Untroubled on Ocean's green bosom they sleep, 
 
 i 
 While I live their fate to deplore. 
 
95 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet to live 'midst these wilds, lone, bleak, and austere, 
 The loss even of country and friends I could bear, 
 But Fate from my bosom my Morag to tear! 
 'Tis done — and what can Fate do more ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Ye breezes that murmur around my dark cave, 
 And sport on light wing o'er the soft curling wave ! 
 Do ye visit the vale of the fair and the brave, 
 By Lochlaggan's green flowery shore? 
 
 IV. 
 
 If ye visit the vale, tho' wide seas 'twixt us roar, 
 
 Waft my wishes to her I must ever adore — 
 
 Ah ! heart-rending thought ! must I ne'er meet her 
 
 more, 
 By Lochlaggan's green flowery shore! 
 
96 
 
 SONG XXXI. 
 
 ^■r*"*^-**" 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye kings, I envy not your fate ; 
 For what are kings but slaves of state ? 
 Give me the cottage, snug and neat, 
 That stands upon the moor. 
 
 II. 
 
 Though half the frenzied world ye waste. 
 Contentment never is your guest: 
 A thousand cankering cares infest, 
 And wring your bosom's core. 
 
97 
 
 III. 
 
 While I've my utmost wish attained, 
 No murmuring nation's treasures drained, 
 No guilty nation's honour stained, 
 In fields of floating gore. 
 
 IV, 
 
 Fve never sought, by fraud or stealth, 
 To heap up useless stores of wealth, 
 And Heaven has granted peace and health ; 
 Then who would ask for more ? 
 
 V. 
 
 No rebel passions taught to crave, 
 I'm no man's debtor, no man's slave; 
 Ambition, grasp from wave to wave, 
 The globe— to me thou'rt poor. 
 
98 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then learn, ye sons of pride, from me, 
 The manly art of living free, 
 Nor meanly bend the servile knee 
 To court the smiles of power. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I eat the bread of honest toil ; 
 My prattling babes, my Mary's smile, 
 At evening all my cares beguile; 
 Then who would call me poor? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then kings, I envy not your fate, 
 For what are kings but slaves of state ? 
 Give me the cottage, snug and neat, 
 That stands upon the moor. 
 

 MISCELLANEOUS 
 POEMS. 
 
HELLAS, 
 A POEM. 
 
 Rise, Greece ! arise ! in all thy strength arise ! 
 Within thyself thy only safety lies; 
 Brave are thy sons, let those brave sons unite, 
 And day succeeds thy long protracted night — 
 
 K 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THOUGH the following Poem was written 
 in 1819, the Author lays no claim to that gift of 
 prescience attributed exclusively to his country- 
 men. — At that period he fancied, and the event 
 has proved that he was not mistaken — that he 
 could foresee the destruction of the Othman em- 
 pire, in Greece, in the very means taken to secure 
 it. Before Ali had defeated, in detail, the mini- 
 ature nations that inhabited the Grecian moun- 
 tains, it was impossible to bring about an union 
 of the whole. As long as each clan was able to 
 maintain an uncertain independence, it took no 
 thought of the general good — But common suf- 
 fering created common cause— and Greece, 
 united, must eventually triumph. 
 
HELLAS. 
 
 **,#*****• 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 <******>** 
 
 In golden beams and orient blushes dyed, 
 The fair Aurora rose in all her pride — 
 Seated on Phcebus' car, her robes of mist, 
 In silvery folds the glowing Ocean kissed— 
 Zephyrus bore upon his silken wing 
 The fragrant essence of the breathing Spring, 
 And gently winnowing o'er her radiant head, 
 In fluttering gales the balmy treasure spread. 
 
 Serenely calm, the fleckered sky displayed 
 A brilliant glory, through a dusky shade; 
 k 2 
 
104 
 
 And every spray, along the vocal grove, 
 Was living harmony and notes of love—* 
 
 Such was the morn, a morn that might inspire 
 The coldest bosom with poetic fire; 
 When on that promontory's misty brow, 
 Whence hapless Sapho dashed the waves below ; r 
 Whither the blooming Paphian goddess came, 
 And, more successful, quenched her glowing flame : 
 Smit with the love of solitude and song, 
 His listless length supinely stretched along, 
 On the green sward, a simple bard and poor, 
 Wooed Meditation by the sounding shore ; 
 Till fairy Fancy, with a magic hand, 
 Around him waving her creative wand, 
 Bade real objects vanish to a dream, 
 And scenes imaginary real seem. 
 
 The sea, submissive to the heavenly pow'r, 
 Bade all her billows cease to heave and roar; 
 The refluent waves on every hand give way, 
 And to the bard's astonished eyes display, 
 In bright array, emerging from the main, 
 The nymph divine, fair Hellas, with her train. 
 
 Next to the goddess rosy Spring was seen, 
 Her temples crowned with gay perennial green ; 
 
105 
 
 la waving folds her copious mantle flowed, 
 The brightest gift that Nature e'er bestowed. 
 Whose plastic hand upon the drapery drew 
 The fairest scene that e'er engaged the view. 
 The mimic olive there its branches spreads, 
 And bays triumphantly exalt their heads. 
 
 There rising mountains seem to touch the sky. 
 And flowery vales and meadows meet the eye, 
 Where mimic lambkins leap in merry mood, 
 And flocks reclining, seem to chew the cud. 
 
 There fields extend, and busy hamlets here, 
 Smile o'er the prospect of the pregnant year, — 
 And dimly seen beneath the thickest boughs, 
 Two ardent lovers pledge their mutual vows ; 
 The wondering gazer listens to admire, 
 And almost thinks he hears the pair respire- 
 Next, Summer, clad in ever-blooming flowers, 
 Brought in her train the laughing rosy Hours, 
 And sea-born Venus, modestly arrayed 
 In the chaste semblance of a country maid. 
 Young ruddy Bacehus next her found a place, 
 A thousand rubies glowing in his face; 
 Pomona* with her lips of coral glow, 
 And Flora tripping on fantastic toe. 
 K 3 
 
106 
 
 Solemn and slow came hoary Winter forth, 
 Not like the tyrant of the frozen North, 8 
 Scattering around with terror-kindling breath, 
 Relentless ruin, pale disease, and death — 
 In years he seemed, a venerable sage, 
 Yet still his vigor unimpaired by age : 
 A snowy beard depended from his chin, 
 Time ploughed his forehead and his locks were thin ; 
 But still his bright and beaming eyes withstand, 
 The dimming power of the spoiler's hand. 
 Still on his cheek in lovely languor glows, 
 What was in youth the full and blooming rose. 
 Blithe brawny Industry, embrowned by toil, 
 Health in his face, contentment in his smile, 
 Led yellow Autumn, crowned with nodding corn, 
 And buxom Plenty, with her flowing horn — 
 
 Stern Independence came with lofty stride, 
 And steady, thoughtful, Commerce by his side, 
 In robes, the growth of many a region, dressed, 
 Furs from the North, silks of the East and West; 
 From where the negro pants beneath the line, 
 To where the sons of ice-bound Greenland pine. 
 Around her brows a glittering chaplet shines, 
 Rich from Potosi and Golconda's mines. 
 
107 
 
 For her a thousand winged breezes bear 
 The sweetest odours of the various sphere* 
 And gaily sporting in the ambient air, 
 Perfume the fluid with peculiar care — 
 
 Next came a youth whose frenzied rolling eye 
 Now sought the earth, now seemed to pierce the sky ; 
 By starts he stood, by starts he ran or walked, 
 And now he muttered, now aloud he talked; 
 On ocean now, enraptured, fixed his look, 
 Then stopped to listen to a babbling brook : 
 Now turns his gaze where lofty mountains tower — 
 Now sings a sonnet to a budding flower. 
 
 In his expressive sentimental face, 
 The poet's searching eye full well could trace 
 The Genius of that region that gave birth 
 To men whose fame resounds through all the earth — 
 A lyre he bore ; he touched the trembling wire 
 To sounds which gods might listen to admire; 
 And thus he raised his manly voice and sung, 
 While the glad echos to his numbers rung: — 
 u Raise ! raise, fair Hellas ! raise on high thy voice ! l 
 In strains of gladness and of joy rejoice ! 
 The happy tidings let thy song unfold ; 
 For, lo ! returned thy ancient age of gold I" 
 
108 
 
 "Long had thy sons submitted to the yoke, 
 Their freeborn spirit by oppression broke; 
 Their torpid breasts with patriotic heat 
 And love of glory, long forgot to beat : 
 Deaf every ear at Honour's sacred call, 
 Cold-blooded Apathy enveloped all — 
 From the pale slaves the gods their image tore — 
 They left the forms of men, but left no more — 
 
 " Long had thy daughters, humbled to the dust, 
 Resigned their charms to the foul arms of Lust— » 
 Their charms ! ah ! no, no oharm to them remains, 
 For female beauty never blooms in chains ; — 
 And Love refused their bosoms to inspire, 
 Debased to instinct and mere brute desire^- 
 
 "The rural virtues, once thy pride and boast, 
 Far, far away, were banished from thy coast — 
 No more thy youth led up with clamorous glee, 
 " Their evening sports beneath the spreading tree ;" * 
 Nor father's bosom kindled into joy 
 To trace the future hero in his boy. 
 
 " There hoary bondsmen sinking to their graves, 
 Unmoved beheld a rising race of slaves — 
 
 * Goldsmith. 
 
109 
 
 A race they basely had to being called, 
 
 To give their limbs to be with fetters galled: 
 
 Their only birthright liberty to crawl 
 
 Like trembling spaniels at the huntsman's call, 
 
 And fawning, crouching, lick the tepid gore 
 
 From the same lash their sires had licked before, 
 
 " The humble roof no neat convenience blest, 
 But men and brutes sunk in promiscuous rest ; 
 While many a death-charged loathsome reptile crawls, 
 Through tangling cobwebs on the mouldy walls. 
 
 " Divest of woods, and brown with parching rays, 
 Thy hills nor herds nor bleating flocks did graze; 
 Nor there fair maid the loaded udder pressed, 
 In simple beauty's simple graces dressed—" 
 
 "To feast or fair along thy grass-grown road, 
 With merry heart, no more the shepherd, trod; 
 But undisturbed within the matted brake, 
 In noontide beams there basked the scaly snake. 
 " On Evening's ear no more the nightingale 
 Poured, in soft melody, the tender tale, 
 But rocks resounded to the wolf dog's howl, 
 Bats wheeled their flight, and screamed the boding owl; 
 Thy sluggish fields, with weeds and thorns o'errun, 
 Gave no red vintage to the ripening sun — 
 
110 
 
 The laurel drooped, for there nor poet's lays, 
 Nor patriot hero's brows demanded bays — 
 Half faded myrtle round the bramble grew, 
 Naught bloomed but cypress and funereal yew ; 
 The harvest withered in the golden ear, 
 And shivering Famine blasted all the year. 
 
 " Thy waters ceased in crystal rills to play, 
 But forced through mud their slime-encumbered way, 
 Silently slow, and regularly dull, 
 To the foul bosom of some stagnant pool, 
 Where bloated Pestilence, with feverish lips, 
 In parting pangs, the morbid fluid sips: 
 Such was the land— such every land must be 
 Where man forgets that man is born free — 
 u Now turn thy view from fetters, whips, and chains, 
 And, lo ! a race that Slavery's yoke disdains ; 
 And, hark! the voice of rising Valour flies 
 Through all thy realm, and echoes to the skies; 
 And, as it flies, the work of Freedom spreads, 
 Slaves burst their bonds and raise their drooping heads. 
 The tidings spread — all, to the utmost isle, 
 In renovated bloom, begins to smile — " 
 
 " No more the sight of dew-eyed Pity meets 
 With squalid Misery pining in the streets : 
 
Ill 
 
 No more pale Labour takes his lonely stand. 
 
 With tear-worn cheek and outstretched horny hand, 
 
 In feeble age, to beg a little bread 
 
 Of the proud knave his youthful vigour fed — 
 
 Now cheerfully he plies the hopeful toil, 
 
 And gives the seed to the prolific soil; 
 
 The grateful soil its richest bounty yields, 
 
 And he that sows shall reap the teeming fields. 
 
 The work of Freedom speeds, and soon the gales 
 Shall to thy harbours waft the crowded sails, 
 And busy Commerce shall for thee explore, 
 Through pathless oceans, climes unknown before. — 
 " Then raise, fair Hellas ! raise on high thy voice ! 
 In strains of gladness and of joy rejoice ! 
 The happy tidings let thy song unfold, 
 For, lo ! returned thy ancient age of gold ! 
 
 " On thy parched hills shall golden pippins grow, 
 The grape shall ripen and pomegranate glow; 
 The orange grove its luscious loads disclose, 
 And cooling citrons bend the groaning boughs. 
 Thy vales shall smile with fields of bursting grain, 
 And tenfold harvests wave on every plain. 
 Fat beeves shall range in every flowery mead, 
 And snow-white flocks on every mountain feed. 
 
112 
 
 " Fair Eloquence, with bold uplifted arms, 
 The kindling passions agitates and warms, 
 Till men erewhile who felt the life-blood glide 
 Along their veins in a half frozen tide, 
 Feel Freedom's spirit at the springs of life, 
 And pant for vengeance in the mortal strife. 
 From tottering age to lisping infancy, 
 Freedom or death shall be the general cry ; 
 And all whose strength a falchion's weight can wield, 
 With eager zeal shall seek the tented field — 
 Impetuous burst on Othman's impious race, 
 Nor of their power leave behind a trace. 
 
 *f Where she was born, and grew, and bloomed of old. 
 Science again new glories shall unfold; 
 And thence Philosophy, with aspect holy, 
 Shall chace the fiends of Prejudice and Folly— 
 Young Genius, reared by Liberty's fair hand, 
 Shall teach the soul sublimely to expand, 
 Prompt the great sentiment, inspire with hope 
 The poet's breast, and bard with bard shall cope, 
 With Emulation fired, till wit and sense 
 Shall reach the utmost point of excellence; 
 And when Byzantium shall meet Illium's fate, 
 From Grecian valour, at no distant date, 
 
113 
 
 And flames shall rise from every Moslem's hall, 
 Another Homer here may rise to sing her fall.— 
 
 u Prophetic objects strike my ravished eyes — 
 Isee! I see! a second Athens rise! 
 A second Sparta waves the flaming brand, 
 And pours destruction over Paynim land ! 
 Before the waving cross the crescent bows, 
 And Marathon again is strewed with slaughtered 
 foes!" 
 
 The poet heard no more, and from his sight 
 The vision vanished in a blaze of light. — ■ 
 
114 
 
 VIEW FROM MOUNT NERITOS, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 ISLAND OF ITHACA. 
 
 Hail, rugged Isle ! whose mountains -wild are seen 
 Heaving abrupt their heads of hoary gray, 
 With here and there a lively spot of green, 
 Like Winter mingling with the bloom of May ; x 
 Yet, to fair plains, to courts luxurious, gay, 
 Did thy sage chief prefer those barren hills — 
 Full twenty years a wanderer did he stray, 
 Of life, for thee, despising all the ills — 
 Much can the man endure whose breast the patriot fills. 
 
115 
 
 IL 
 
 See yonder pile, torn by the teeth of Time, * 
 
 In moss-grown fragments scattered all around ! 
 
 Oft did those walls to many a theme sublime, 
 
 In matchless eloquence of verse resound — 
 
 'Twas thence the sage philosopher, profound 
 
 In moral maxims, all his maxims drew. 
 
 Thence keen eyed Science looked fair Nature round, 
 
 In all her ways, with microscopic view ; 
 
 There warriors learnt to fight and be victorious too. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yon other ruin crumbling into dust, 2 
 Where spotless Chastity once found a home, 
 The pride of architecture rose, august; 
 The arch, the column, and the gorgeous dome ; 
 There pensive Penelope plied the loom, 
 All day, and sad, the tedious task unwove, 
 When sable Night enveloped all in gloom ; 
 A blest example of unaltered love ! 
 Not all the youth of Greece her steady faith could move. 
 L 2 
 
 
116 
 
 IV. 
 
 Deep in the bosom of that woody glen, 
 Where Echo whispers to the passing breeze 
 Of rosy Spring, or, from her hollow den, 
 Roars to the blast that bends the groaning trees; 
 Where once the bath, for elegance and ease, 
 Surrounded with fair seats of swardy green, 
 Stately arose, the wondering stranger sees 
 The lonely Arethusa, Naiad queen! a 
 Who, murmuring, seems to mourn the changes she has 
 seen. 
 
 V. 
 
 There heroes erst, when toil their nerves unstrung, 
 Imbibed fresh \igour from her cooling streams, 
 There lovely Beauties, sprightly, fair, and young, 
 Would oft repair to lave their snowy limbs — 
 Ah ! how degrading the mutation seems ! 
 Now there foul Indolence, in female shape, 
 In squalid tatters, basks in noon-day beams; 
 And Sloth and Apathy their bodies scrape, 
 In form of men, with many a gaunt and gape. b 
 
117 
 
 VI. 
 
 Say, ye deep learned in the book of Fate ! 
 
 Of Change and Chance ye who can trace the laws! 
 
 Say, whence this change ? Did Luxury create 
 
 Of this effect, this dire effect, the cause ? 
 
 Did she bid Avarice, with harpy claws, 
 
 With hollow-hearted Fraud and Power combine, 
 
 In hellish league, 'gainst Justice and her laws, 
 
 To immolate fair Freedom, maid divine ! 
 
 'Midst peals of sensual mirth, at Epicurus' shrine ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Did she bid Cruelty, infuriate, burn 
 In the dark guileful breast of Tyranny ? 
 Did she make man so base as not to scorn 
 Before a fellow man to bow the knee ? 
 Did she bid men, by nature born free, 
 Become the slaves of Superstition wild; 
 And, led by Falsehood and Hypocrisy, 
 In labyrinths of error stray beguiled, 
 And be by Ignorance and Vice debased, defil'd ? 
 
 l 3 
 
118 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Or does th' unalterable voice of Fate 
 
 Thus speak the doom of empires as they rise ; 
 
 " Rejoice awhile, for by a certain date, 
 
 " Your greatness withers, and your glory dies ? M 
 
 Ah ! is it so ? and must the curious eyes 
 
 Of strangers yet behold Augusta * low ? 
 
 Must she, whose fame o'er earth and ocean flies, 
 
 To some new Goth or some new Vandal bow ? 
 
 And must her sons be doom'd to slavery and woe? 
 
 IX. 
 
 Celestial spirit ! whatsoe'er thou art, 
 
 That warmest the breast with patriotic fire, 
 
 Thy influence shed on every Briton's heart! 
 
 With love of Britain, Britons still inspire ! 
 
 Be thou around her still a wall of fire ! 
 
 Guard her from foreign and domestic wrong! 
 
 Of foaming Faction, furious, false, and dire, 
 
 Foil the devices, and strike mute the tongue ! 
 
 And British Freedom 'till the wreck of Time prolong ! 
 
 * London. 
 
119 
 
 MARIA. 
 
 See, stranger, yon cottage, secluded and neat, 
 
 And screened from the breath of each wild storm that 
 
 blows ; 
 There once Hospitality found a retreat — 
 Misfortune and Poverty there found repose — 
 
 There Virtue with Colin delighted to dwell, 
 There rural Simplicity carol'd her song ; 
 There Innocence lived, and there Sorrow's sad tale 
 From the eye of soft Pity the pearly tear wrung — 
 
 One son and one daughter, his hope and his pride, 
 Of a numerous offspring to Colin remain- 
 Maria, the fairest and loveliest maid, 
 And Ronald, the gayest and gallantest swain. 
 
120 
 
 Tho' coarse was their fare, with contentment and 
 
 health, 
 Their little possessions seemed riches astore; 
 They sought not for grandeur, they sought not for 
 
 wealth, 
 Enough they possessed, and they wished not for more. 
 
 Tho* humble their mansion and simple their board, 
 They esteemed them the boons of a bounteous heaven ; 
 They thankfully took, and what they could afford, 
 To the children of want and affliction was given — 
 
 But often a storm succeeds a fair morn — 
 Full often is grief the successor of joy : 
 The briar produces the rose and the thorn, 
 But the thorn outlives the fair rose's decay — 
 
 The lovely Maria, sweet flower of the glade ! 
 
 In rural simplicity's softness did bloom, 
 
 By an artful unfeeling seducer betrayed, 
 
 Her beauties decayed and she sunk to the tomb — 
 
121 
 
 Dark Grumo was handsome, and Hyblean sweets, 
 In soft persuasion, on his eloquence hung ; 
 But that form was a mask for a thousand deceits, 
 And the poison of asps lay concealed on his tongue. 
 
 He vowed — she believed — from her sire and loved 
 
 home, 
 From that mansion of bliss — from that temple of peace, 
 He lured, and then left her abandoned to roam 
 Through the world, the companion of want and 
 disgrace— 
 
 Cold blew the north winds on her bosom of snow, 
 As, shivering and sighing, her infant she prest; 
 She feebly exclaimed, <€ to my father Fll go ! " 
 She went-— he forgave — she expired on his breast — 
 
 He marked out her grave near yon green holly bush, 
 By yon ruined chapel where nods the tall yew ; 
 Where early is heard the soft song of the thrush, 
 Where bloom the fair daisy and violet blue. 
 
122 
 
 And ne'er did one smile to his visage return 
 From that moment, and sad, he would often repair 
 To recline his pale cheek on Maria's cold urn ; 
 Oft there did I see him with hoarv locks bare. 
 
 One morning I marked that as wont he was there, 
 But longer, much longer than wont was his stay— T 
 I went to the spot, and in posture of prayer, 
 I found him as lifeless and cold as the clay — 
 
 By the side of Maria, near yon holly bush, 
 By yon ruined chapel where nods the tall yew, 
 He lies, and oft there sing the blackbird and thrush — 
 There bloom the fair daisy and violet blue. 
 
123 
 
 VERSES 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAVES OF 
 BURNS'S POEMS, 
 
 PRESENTED TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Wouldst thou see Satire, with her whip, 
 Give vice a lacerated hip, 
 And from the face of Falsehood tear 
 The mash, and lay her visage bare; — 
 Unawed by titles, pomp, and splendor, 
 Wouldst thou behold that moral-mender, 
 Keen, sly, ironic Ridicule, 
 Point at the hypocrite and fool, 
 The covetous, the proud, and vain, 
 Read our immortal ploughman's strain — 
 
124 
 
 Wouldst thou see grave Reflection stray, 
 Far from the busy and the gay, 
 Along the winding banks of Ayr, 
 When winter strips the forests bare, 
 With brimful eye and visage wan, 
 t€ To mourn the miseries of man," 
 And hear her sigh and weep by turns, 
 Then read, O, read ! the song of Burns- 
 
 Wouldst thou behold, in blessings rife; 
 
 The hardy sons of humble life; 
 
 Stern Independence at the plough, 
 
 With horny hand and sweaty brow ; 
 
 Meek Piety forsake a court, 
 
 And the lowly cot resort, 
 
 And learn that Virtue, tho* she scorns } 
 
 The proud, the sons of toil adorns, — > 
 
 Then read, 0, read ! the song of Burns. J 
 
 Wouldst thou hear love and friendship sung 
 In language sweet and numbers strong, 
 
125 
 
 And patriot Valour ever brave, 
 
 " Who scorns to be, or have a slave — 
 
 And fairy Fancy, in her cell, 
 
 Depicting many a charm and spell — 
 
 And Nature, in her wildest guise, 
 
 Her mountains tow'ring to the skies; 
 
 Her woods and wilds, her hills and dales; 
 
 " Her moors, red-brown with heather bells ;" 
 
 Her alleys green and shady groves, 
 
 Seats of the Graces and the Loves — 
 
 Wouldstthou see Summer crowned with flowers. 
 
 And Flora with the rosy Hours, 
 
 With light fantastic footsteps tread, 
 
 Along the dew-bespangled mead — 
 
 Mild Autumn blushing like the morn 
 
 Her temples graced with nodding com; 
 
 And Winter, from the stormy north, 
 
 Driving his frozen chariot forth, 
 
 Sublimely, 'mid the whirling drift. 
 
 That dims and darkens " a y the lift — %y 
 
 Dost thou rejoice to see again / 
 
 New life and verdure clothe the plain, 
 
 When youthful Spring in smiles returns ? 
 
 Then read, O, read ! the song of Burns — 
 M 
 
126 
 
 THE LILY AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Upon a day — a lovely day, 
 
 The day that June shook hands with May, 
 
 A day when Nature's breath was balm, 
 
 A day of health-inspiring calm, 
 
 A day of sunshine and of showers, 
 
 A jubilee among the flowers ; — 
 
 A lovely lily of the vale, 
 
 Her snowy hue half changed to pale, 
 
 Thus sighing did her griefs diclose 
 
 To a half-drooping neighbouring rose; 
 
 « When birds began to coo and sing, 
 
 And Hebe usher'd in the spring, 
 
127 
 
 That spring, you'll understand, 1 mean, 
 When lovely Mary was sixteen. — 
 I well remember you and I 
 That very spring, my love, were wed ; * 
 And, borne on a soft zephyr's sigh, 
 We went and made our bridal bed 
 Where revelled many a youthful grace, 
 On Mary's love-inspiring face ; 
 Upon her cheek, beneath thy glow, 
 I shone as pure as mountain snow, 
 And when I flew to deck her breast, — 
 A bosom then to pain unknown, — 
 Her lips ambrosial you impress'd, 
 And borrowed fragrance not your own; 
 I, too, did from her breast possess 
 More than my native loveliness. 
 
 I But, ah ! misfortune's shafts unkind 
 Too soon our seats of joy invade, — 
 And when misfortune wrings the mind, 
 The lily and the rose soon fade; — 
 
 * The Gaelic language places the rose in thei masculine, and the 
 lily in the feminine gender. 
 
 M 2 
 
128 
 
 The brother of her love lies low, — 
 
 We must be gone— ah, day of woe ! 
 
 But time, perhaps, and Colin* s love 
 
 May heal her deeply wounded mind,— 
 
 For these the sorrows can remove 
 
 That in nought else a balm could find; 
 
 Then, happy day, we may re-shine 
 
 Upon that lip and neck divine." 
 
 She sighed amid her weight of woes, — 
 
 Grief stopped what more she had to say. 
 
 Responsive sighed her spouse, the rose, 
 
 As young Hygeia pass'd that way, 
 
 And pointed to a waving willow, 
 
 Beneath whose shadow Mary lay,— 
 
 A tuft of downy moss her pillow, 
 
 The zephyrs 'midst her locks at play, 
 
 And sealed in sleep those eyes of sparkling blue, 
 
 That vied in brightness with the morning dew. 
 
 Hygeia breathed upon the slumbering maid ; 
 
 The rose and lily by enchantment flew, — 
 
 Upon her cheek, her lip, her bosom spread, 
 
 Giving their beauties to the ravished view; 
 
129 
 
 She rose and sought her faithful Colin's side, 
 A cheerful, graceful, lovely, blooming bride* 
 
 m 3 
 
130 
 
 ON TIME, 
 
 WRITTEN 31st DECEMBER, 1817. 
 
 Hark ! what an awful solemn sound ! 
 
 What mournful peal salutes my ear, 
 
 At this dread hour, when silence reigns around: 
 
 'Tis the last knell of the departing year. 
 
 With me, what thousands that sad knell must mourn ? 
 
 A year is gone, ah ! never to return ! 
 
 O Time ! how smooth and swiftly dost thou fly ! 
 What power can thy steady course arrest ! 
 Thou hear'st, unheeded, the poor wretch's cry, 
 While guilt and terror rend his labouring breast — 
 fi One moment more," he cries, — thou cut'st the thread, 
 And, lo ! he sinks, despairing with the dead. 
 
131 
 
 Yet let not man, proud, prodigal, and vain, 
 
 Spendthrift of all the gifts his God has given, 
 
 Presume thy steady purpose to arraign, 
 
 While thou describ'st the circle mark'd by heaven : 
 
 'Tis fit, O faithful monitor ! thy dart 
 
 Should strike the base contemner to the heart. 
 
 When the Omnipotent's creative might 
 
 From chaos call'd this universal frame, 
 
 And angels shouted to the dawning light, 
 
 Thy voice was heard amid the inspiring theme : 
 
 'Twas then to thee the mighty task was given, 
 
 To rule the sun and starry host of heaven. 
 
 When Nature trembled at the dread command, 
 « Descend ye storms ! ye fountains of the deep! 
 " Pour all your liquid treasures o'er the land, 
 u And from the earth polluted mankind sweep! " 
 Dauntless thou sawest the levelling thunder hurPd, 
 And stood* st secure amidst a ruin'd world. 
 
132 
 
 How many mighty changes hast thou seen 
 Among the sons of this terrestrial sphere, 
 Since, when a rosy youth, thou didsl begin, 
 With silent step, to mark the rolling year ? 
 But those vicissitudes thou heedst no more, 
 Than the rude rock the lashing billows' roar. 
 
 Full many a mighty empire hast thou seen, 
 To nothing fading, and from nothing spring; 
 The memory lost, as if they ne'er had been, 
 Of many a hero, and of many a king. 
 Thou sweep'st, unmarked, into one common grave, 
 The haughty monarch and the humble slave. 
 
 Ah ! cruel thought ! and must the diadem 
 Be reft from proud Ambition's lofty brow ! 
 Must Pride, with him she would not deign to name, 
 'Mong cankering worms and sordid dust lie low ? 
 Yes — proud and meek, the wretched and sublime, 
 Must perish all beneath thy hand, O, Time ! 
 
133 
 
 Even o'er thy last revolving round 
 
 Britannia sheds full many a bitter tear ; 
 
 Her graceful temples with sad cypress bound, 
 
 She weeps o'er Charlotte's * cold untimely bier,- 
 
 Remorseless spoiler ! thy consuming rage 
 
 Knows no distinction between youth and age. 
 
 Why do thy wrinkles trace he che;ek of youth ? 
 Why o'er her temples shed untimely snow ? 
 Even I, who mourn thy ravages uncouth, 
 Bear thy hoar marks upon my youthful brow; 
 And the cold hand of languid, pale disease, 
 Points to the dwindling number of my days. 
 
 Yet, Time, exult not o'er the sons of earth ; 
 
 When in one ruin thou hast levelled all, 
 
 To which prolific nature e'er gave birth, 
 
 This air, this ocean, and this earthly ball — 
 
 Thou, like a summer stream, shalt leave thy channel 
 
 dry, 
 Lust in the boundless ocean of Eternity.- 
 
 * Her late Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte of Wales. 
 
134 
 
 TO HEALTH. 
 
 Divine Hygeia, turn thy steps again, 
 Nor let the plaintive muse implore in vain* 
 
 Mrs. Grant. 
 
 ^r ** *r^* 
 
 I. 
 
 When Phoebus' daily course is at a close, 
 And pale-faced Cynthia shews a fainter light, 
 I seek the silent shade of calm repose, 
 And sing, responsive to the bird of night. 
 Thy plaintive song, sad Philomel, 
 Too much, alas ! resembles mine : 
 Thou in the sweetest notes thy sorrows tell, 
 Mine more lugubrious move each listless line ; 
 Thou wail'st what never can to thee return, 
 Like thee, sweet bird, in vain I also mourn.— 
 Thou nymph, who lovest in humble cots to dwell ! 
 Thou rosy Health, come visit my sad cell ! 
 
135 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou who on Scotia's hills delight' st to roam ! 
 
 Thou guardian Goddess of my native Isle I 
 
 Thou soothing balm of every humble home ! 
 
 Thou nymph so coy ! I court thy favouring smile ! 
 
 Thou nymph, who at the sumptuous board, 
 
 With Luxury's sons didst never dine! 
 
 Who with the drunken sons of loud Discord, 
 
 In noisy feasts, didst never join ! 
 
 How long in vain thy absence shall I mourn ? 
 
 Thou nymph divine! return! O, return! 
 
 III. 
 
 With thee, erewhile, I oft saluted morn ; 
 
 With thee, well pleased, returned at close of day. 
 
 How nimbly did we trace the sounding horn ! 
 
 What nymph and swain tript o'er the lee more gay ? 
 
 O, grief of griefs ! O, sad to tell ! 
 
 My company thou didst soon decline. 
 
 I wandered from my native vale ; 
 
 My native vale, fair maid, and thine ; 
 
 And since that day in vain for thee I mourn ; 
 
 Thou nymph divine! return! O, return! 
 
136 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thou ne'er with sloth, that loathsome vice, accurst, 
 Among the accurst, that vice accurst the most, 
 Didst waste thy summers stretch t in sordid dust, 
 In drowsy slumbers all thy senses lost. 
 Nor did'st thou deign to cast one look, 
 Near giddy Pleasure's luring shrine. 
 Nor though'st it safe to leave thy pipe and crook, 
 For Bacchus's ivy branch and clustering vine. 
 Thou ne'er with moping Melancholy wast seen, 
 Nor stretched beneath the languor of the spleen. 
 Thy looks are pleasant as the evening gale, 
 When vernal fragrance floats in every vale. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oft have I seen thee by the break of day, 
 
 With tripping milkmaids tune the sweetest song— 
 
 With rake and sickle by a cock of hay, 
 
 Thy perfect form Fve seen thee lay along. 
 
 Oft have I seen thee wrapt in balmy sleep, 
 
 Thy golden tresses waving o'er thy face ; 
 
 While drooping flow'rs around thee seemed to weep, 
 
 Robb'd of their sweets, to give thy beauty grace. 
 
137 
 
 Oft have I slept within thy snowy arms, 
 Enjoying all thy paradise of charms; — 
 Let me enjoy those charms, fair nymph again,- 
 Benignly smile, and banish all my pain ! 
 
 N 
 
138 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 MARCH 1813. 
 
 I. 
 
 In green Trinacria's genial isle, 
 Far fam'd in many a polish'd tale, 
 Where Nature's sweets load every gale 
 
 That balmy blows, 
 I mused within a lonely vale, 
 
 At evening's close. 
 
 II. 
 
 Well pleasM I saw the rustics smile, 
 
 Returning from their daily toil, 
 
 To their low cots, ( Pride calls them vile, ) 
 
 Where buxom Health 
 And gay Content, their hours beguile; 
 
 A world of wealth ! 
 
139 
 
 III. 
 
 Beneath a fissur'd hoary steep, 
 
 O'er whose gray brow wild ivies creep, 
 
 And gentle breezes softly sweep 
 
 With solemn sound, 
 I calmly sunk, in silent sleep, 
 
 On verdant ground — 
 
 IV. 
 
 A spacious field methought I viewM; 
 Close by, a sylvan arbour stood, 
 Where I espied, in musing mood, 
 
 A lovely maid : 
 The fawns came fearless from the wood, 
 
 And round her playM — 
 
 V. 
 
 Her robe was of the lily's hue ; 
 
 A wreath of cypress graced her brow ; 
 
 Her face displayed a kindly glow, 
 
 That spoke a mind 
 Which keenly felt for every woe 
 
 Of human kind. 
 N 2 
 
140 
 
 VI. 
 
 I rose to hail the heavenly fair, 
 When, lo ! loud groans of wild despair. 
 From every part, assaiPd my ear, 
 
 The field around— 
 I saw red Slaughter, every where, 
 
 Bestrew the ground. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The nymph was Pity, meek-eyed maid ! 
 She lingered round the gory bed, 
 Where, heaps on heaps, were lowly laid, 
 
 UnnumberM slain — 
 And thus, o'er vital currents red, 
 
 She pour'd her strain : — 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Thou great Omniscient Mighty Power! 
 When shall mad nation's cease to jar ? 
 How long shall fell, blood-thirsty War 
 
 Deluge the world? 
 When shall the fiend be from his car 
 
 For ever hurl'd ! 
 
141 
 
 IX. 
 
 See, how Ambition's lofty stride, 
 Treads on the dead, with callous pride 1 
 See gloomy Terror by his side, 
 
 In angry mood I 
 And ruthless Murder, thickly dyed 
 
 In human blood ! 
 
 X. 
 
 See, through the long embattled line, 
 The glittering blades of slaughter shine ! 
 See, mangled thousands, ghastly, pine 
 
 In tepid gore, 
 The hapless victims on the shrine 
 
 Of guilty Power ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Curst be Ambition's wretched slave; 
 Let Infamy mark out his grave, 
 Who counts it glory to enslave 
 
 His fellow men ! 
 Shame brand his name who calls such brave ! 
 
 Amen ! Amen ! 
 k 3 
 
142 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Shame stain his name, whose cringing mind, 
 Still shifts with fortune's shifting wind ! 
 The groveling worm ! unfeeling, blind, 
 
 Dark, selfish, fool ! 
 Whom, pliant, every rascal finds, 
 
 A ready tool ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 u 0, did that light on mankind blaze, 
 From Freedom's ever-glorious rays, 
 That once brave Wallace's arm did raise 
 
 O'er foemen fell, 
 And crown'd the brows with glorious bays 
 
 Of William Tell. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then should each haughty despot find, 
 A spirit worthy of mankind; — 
 No more should Superstition blind, 
 
 Or lead astray, 
 In servile chains, the captive mind, 
 
 From Reason's sway. 
 
143 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then mild, majestic Peace should smile; 
 Then Plenty crown the farmer's toil, 
 Then stern Oppression, dark and vile, 
 
 Feel many a wound ; 
 Then trembling Pride, abash 'd, recoil 
 
 When Justice frown *d." 
 
144 
 
 TO POVERTY. 
 
 +***■++•■*+• 
 
 Ah ! Poverty, thou cKeerless dame ! 
 How vain thy longing after fame, 
 Though bright-eyed Genius fan thy flame, 
 
 And glowing wit, 
 Damnation lurks within thy name, 
 
 Black as the Pit* 
 
 II. 
 
 Lo ! purse-proud Dulness stalks, elate, 
 With prattling Flattery for her mate; 
 Should wind escape from Dulness, straight 
 
 Off Flattery springs, 
 Snatches the infant * * * * from Fate, 
 
 And gives it wings. 
 
145 
 
 III. 
 
 Hell-born Ambition guides the rein, 
 Wheels his red chariot o'er the plain, 
 Drives proudly over hills of slain, 
 
 Through seas of gore; 
 And Flattery follows in his train, 
 
 With Epic roar. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Even Avarice, whose useless store 
 Ne'er lent a penny to the poor, 
 Haply to future times may soar 
 
 On golden wings, 
 Whilst thou must sleep on Lethe's shore, 
 
 With unlu^yn things. 
 
 V. 
 
 While Flattery wails, in pompous mode, 
 The wretch who owned, but gold, no God; 
 Who under shades of darkness trode 
 
 Life's guilty way; 
 Thou liest, unsung, beneath the sod, 
 
 With kindred clay. 
 
146 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then spare that deep heart-rending sigh ; 
 Beneath Misfortune's scowling eye, 
 Luckless alike are you and J, 
 
 Whatever our merit 
 So, firm, resolved, what we can't fly, 
 
 Let's bravely bear it. 
 
147 
 
 THE ROSE AND THE OAK. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 Beneath an ancient Oak, that stood 
 
 From Boreas, many a sturdy thud, 
 
 Yet spite of cold revolving Time, 
 
 Still flourishM green and towrM sublime, 
 
 A lady Rose, elate with pride, 
 
 Thus 'gan to vapour and to chide; 
 
 " Good, la ! how hard it is that I, 
 
 a Born queen of flowers, am doom'd so nigh 
 
 " This filthy boorish Oak to dwell ! 
 
 " La ! how I suffer from the smell 
 
 " Of the vile trunk ! and then my view 
 
 " 1» shock'd with such an ugly hue, 
 
148 
 
 " A rough and toad-like bark obscene, 
 
 ** And leaves of dirty sable green ; 
 
 u And then the noise that fills my ear, 
 
 " Would hurt even hemlock's self to hear. 
 
 " When biting Eurus, 'mong his branches, 
 
 " Threatens to tear him all to inches, 
 
 " He swears, ( and blusters and looks big, ) 
 
 u He does not mind the storm a fig ; 
 
 le Then roars, and thinks, no doubt, he's clever, 
 
 " ' Huzza, boys ! hearts of oak for ever ! * 
 
 " And when his nauseous nuts are shed, 
 
 '• A herd of loathsome grunters tread, 
 
 u And frisk, and burrow round my nose ; 
 
 " A pretty treatment for a Rose ! 
 
 " And while Fm like to burst with rage, 
 
 " He looks ironically sage; 
 
 H Swears that those swine, or he's mistaken, 
 
 " Will make the very best of bacon \ 
 
 <c For near no oak on British ground ,V 
 
 rf Can better acorns be found. 
 
 u And when I tell him 'tis brutality, 
 
 " To speak so to a flow'r of quality, 
 
 M He answers proudly, but for him, 
 
 " My qualities were devilish slim. 
 
149 
 
 " Yet I am doom'd, alas ! alas ! 
 " My days beneath his shade to pass — 
 " O may the lightning blast his boughs ! 
 " O may he feel the woodman's blows ! 
 " And may his trunk be doomed to feel, 
 '* Fixed in some vessel's gloomy keel, 
 '• Amid incessant din of war, 
 ** The noxious stench of pitch and tar ; 
 " Until, with age and toil he's rotten, 
 " Dissolves to dust, and is forgotten ! " 
 " Thou gayest flow'r that decks the vale, M 
 The Oak replied, " pray cease to rail ; 
 " I own full many a virtue thine, 
 " While thou deniest that I have mine ; 
 " While I defend thy tender form, 
 M From JEolian blast and polar storm, 
 " Thou, with ingratitude o'erflowing, 
 te Swear' st all thy woes to me are owing 
 " Roses, I own, have beauties rare, 
 "Among the fair they're passing fair; 
 w They please men's sight, indeed, and noses, 
 " But who can dine on smell of Roses ? 
 " When the French threaten to come over, 
 " By diving from Calais to Dover, 
 O 
 
150 
 
 "To kiss the British wives and lasses, 
 
 " And kick the British husbands' 
 
 ** Could all the roses in the nation, 
 
 " Purchase, it one hour's salvation ? 
 
 " Roses and Fops are pretty things, 
 
 " But of small use to states and kings ; 
 
 <e A. foot of Oak, in time of need, 
 
 €i Is worth the total of the breed. 
 
 u Yes, 'tis the Oak that bears the thunder, 
 
 " Which makes Britannia's foes knock under. 
 
 " Learn this, be thy complaint less loud; 
 
 s< Learn this, frail thing, and be less proud v 
 
 " I go, anon, where glory calls, 
 "To strengthen Britain's wooden walls, 
 t€ Heroic Nelson's deathless name 
 « Shall consecrate mine too, to Fame ; 
 " For I'm designed a part to form 
 " Of that stout ship, where, mid the storm 
 " Of war, the hero's doomM to die, 
 u Embrac'd by weeping Victory,' 9 
 
 The woodman comes — the blows resound; 
 The Oak comes crashing to the ground ; 
 The day grew murk, the sky overcast, 
 The Rose began to feel the blast, 
 
151 
 
 And wished, but wished, alas ! in vain ; 
 The shielding Oak was back again; 
 For soon, beneath the sweeping storm, 
 Pale, lifeless, droop'd her tender form. 
 
 THE ROSE AND THE OAK, 
 
 A FABLE* 
 
 FROM THE ITALIAN. 
 
 ^•^^># > <#^r^#> 
 
 Beneath the shadow of an aged Oak, 
 Lamenting his hard fate, a Rose thus spoke : 
 " That shapeless Oak in gloomy verdure lasts, 
 From Spring till stript by chill November's blasts, 
 While I, so sweet, and dressed in colours gay, 
 Am born to bloom and wither in a day." 
 " All beauteous forms," replied the ancient tree, 
 Alas ! are frail and fading flowers like thee ! " 
 
 o 2 
 
152 
 
 VERSES 
 
 MASSACRE OF GLENCOE. 
 
 FROM THE GAELIC. 
 
 I. 
 
 As, sudden o'er the blue celestial vault, 
 Thick rolling clouds, foreboding storms arise, 
 And thunders peal in many an awful bolt, 
 And forked lightning cleaves the liquid skies; 
 So came destruction — so our heroes fell ; 
 So Ruin's blast swept o'er fair Cona's vale. 
 
 II. 
 
 When Night's black curtain o'er the world was spread, 
 Dread Murder stalked with giant strides abroad, 
 And guilty power applauds the guilty deed ! 
 Tremble Nassau ! before an angry God ! 
 The bravest heroes, and most loyal too, 
 \ie, stabbed in private, by thy lawless crew. 
 
153 
 
 III. 
 
 Oft Proud Oppression's iron-crested brow, 
 Felt on its front their weapon's mighty crash! 
 Oft guilty Power was humbled by their blow ; 
 The shield of Innocence ! the tyrant's lash ! 
 But dark Breadalbin, Murder's favourite son, 
 With certain aim, pronounc'd the race undone, 
 
 * 
 
 IV. 
 
 Of strife I see already sown the seed ; 
 
 I hear full many a potent chief declare, 
 
 That blood alone can expiate the deed ; 
 
 I see grim Vengeance yoke his blood-stain'd car; 
 
 I see the copious streams ensanguin'd flow; 
 
 I hear the hills re-echo Scotland's woe. c 
 
 o 3 
 
154 
 
 OSSIAN'S ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE SETTING SUN. 
 
 from Stewart's collection op Gaelic poems. 
 
 And hast thou o'er thy azure circle rolled, 
 Son of perfection, with the locks of gold ? 
 Lo, to receive thee to thy hall of rest, 
 Night opes her portals in the glowing west: 
 The heaving billows at thy presence blush, 
 Still all their roaring, and their murmuring hush, 
 Awed by the splendour of the rays divine, 
 In circling glories that around thee shine. 
 May no rude storm disturb thy rest, O sun ! 
 And be thy radiant course again with joy begun ! 
 
155 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY FRIEND, 
 ON NEW-YEAR'S MORNING, 1816. 
 
 s#^.#*> **•*#> 
 
 Again has Time, with angry tooth, 
 
 Devoured another year; 
 
 Nor stops to wipe his gory mouth, 
 
 But marks his red career; 
 
 Determined all that comes beneath his paw, 
 
 Shall feast the glutton's ever-craving maw* 
 
 II. 
 
 May you, my friend, till hoary age, 
 
 For heaven has made you ripe, 
 
 Escape the tyrant's deadly rage, 
 
 And murdering iron gripe ! 
 
 Then, with a gentle and a slow decay, 
 
 Softly commingle with your kindred clay. 
 
156 
 
 III. 
 
 O be the rugged paths of Life, 
 
 Made smooth where'er you tread! 
 
 Long may your Jean, your faithful wife, 
 
 Bless the connubial bed! 
 
 And may full many a bonnie blooming boy, 
 
 And lovely girl, crown your wedded joy! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those blossoms that around you blow, 
 
 Each fair as orient gem ; 
 
 May heaven its choisest gifts bestow, 
 
 Peculiarly on them ! 
 
 And Fortune grant them, from her ample store, 
 
 Just what I wish them— they need ask no more. 
 
157 
 SATIRICAL FRAGMENTS, 
 
 " TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR." 
 
 FROM THE ORATOR. 
 
 A SATIRE, IN FOUR BOOKS. 
 
 GLORY. 
 
 Then turn thy steps, my wandering muse., 
 From rosy Spring and vernal dews, 
 From fragrant woods and budding flowers, 
 To princes, palaces, and towers : 
 Ah ! turn we, though it grieves my heart, 
 Frdm rural innocence to part: 
 
158 
 
 To leave the beauties of the green, 
 For ail the splendid courtly din 
 That charms the mighty and the wise, 
 But simple swains, like me, despise ; 
 But Glory, who oft calls our swains 
 To fields of death and bloody plains, 
 Where, stretcht upon her gory lap, 
 Some take an everlasting nap ; 
 And some, with wooden arm or leg, 
 Return in scarlet rags to beg. * 
 Glory, that makes the hungry Wit 
 As haughty as the pamper'd Cit; 
 And the pale Miser, o'er his hoard, 
 As happy as the squandering Lord ; 
 That makes some mad, some melancholy, 
 Some dote on Wisdom, some on Folly, 
 Assuming to all human eyes, 
 A different shape, a different size ; 
 
 r fo appears in dice and cards, 
 
 In sounding epics seems to bards. 
 
 Glory, pursued in various ways, 
 
 That makes Burdetts and Castlereaghs — 
 
 * This is scarcely applicable to the Veterans of the present day 
 in this country. It alludes, of course, to those of other countries. 
 
L59 
 
 This Proteus dame invites my lay, 
 Glory invites, and I obey. 
 
 «*#-^*.r*^*« 
 
 A COUNTRY. 
 
 It matters not, this country lies 
 
 Beneath the circle of the skies, 
 
 The climate neither cold nor hot, 
 
 Skies sometimes clear, and sometimes not— - 
 * * * * •*#** 
 
 There Summer walks a splendid round ; 
 There Autumn is by Ceres crownM; 
 There blustering Winter issues forth, 
 In all the terrors of the North, 
 There Spring returns in vernal smiles — 
 
 There Industry, with vestments torn, 
 Toils hard for bread, from night till morn ; 
 But drops in vain the briny sweat, 
 He sweats and toils that drones may eat ; 
 
160 
 
 And while they quaff the richest wines, 
 Parch'd to the heart, with thirst he pines ; 
 The cup, for which his nerves were strained, 
 By lazy Luxury is drained ; 
 For Luxury his flocks are shorn, 
 By Luxury his webs are worn ; 
 While Pride and Luxury may riot, 
 He starves on half a meager diet— 
 
 A SALUTE. 
 
 Hail, ******** who ne'er, from thy youth, 
 
 Hast stumbled on one word of truth, 
 
 Save when a horse-whip made thee crave 
 
 Pardon, and own thyself a knave, 
 
 And that beneath the solar round, 
 
 Another such could not be found. 
 
 Thou, who hast ne'er been found unwilling, 
 
 To sell thy soul for one poor shilling ; 
 
 A piece of prudence, for that coin, 
 
 Might buy a score d d souls like thine. 
 
161 
 
 A WRITER 
 
 OF SCOTTISH DESCRIPTIONS. 
 
 * * * # Thou, whose gifted eyes 
 Have found the earthly paradise, 
 With all its fruits, and flowers, and fountains, 
 Among the bare, bleak, Grampian Mountains ; 
 Where lambs and lions feed together, 
 And frisk and play 'mong crops of heather; 
 Where the dead adder venom lacks, 
 And chickens roost on foxes' backs — 
 Hail \ deep-ken'd sage 1 from whom we learn, 
 What Johnson's eyes could not discern, 
 That Scotia all, from north to south, 
 And from Dumbarton to Spey mouth, 
 Is one continued sylvan scene, 
 A forest wide of ever -green ; 
 But Johnson's eyes had much to dull 'em, 
 Much anti-Caledonian film, 
 Which sour dame Prejudice applied, 
 At the suggestion of dame Pride, 
 P 
 
162 
 
 Who felt her blood in strange commotion, 
 To think that such a bard as Ossian, 
 An ancient, rude, unletter'd Celt, 
 Could teach the heart to glow and melt, 
 Beyond the power of those who speak, 
 In pompous Latin, polished Greek — 
 
 How are we pleased to learn from thee, 
 The rif er Don is not the Dee ! 
 The river Tweed is not the Forth, 
 And that the Spey flows farther north ! 
 That Stirling's built upon a hill, 
 And Crieff and Callender stand still ; 
 That Bagpipers must have good lungs, 
 And ancient bards make ancient songs ! 
 
163 
 LAW— POWER. 
 
 Whatever we have, howe'er we gain it, 
 If we have power to maintain it, 
 No matter whether steal or buy it; 
 Law, trembling says we may enjoy it. 
 Pray what is Law opposed to Power? 
 A cricket battering down a tower-— 
 
 <*+■++■++<++■ 
 
 FROM BIBO. 
 
 A SATIRICAL FABLE. 
 
 ■++'+*•>+,**+' 
 
 * THINGS MISPLACED.' 
 
 «r*«*rs«sr*#> 
 
 * * * * * * * * 
 
 I do aver we fly in Nature's face ; 
 What she sets right, we instantly misplace- 
 How oft we see a well accomplished clown, 
 Whom Nature never made, or meant, for town, 
 p 2 
 
164 
 
 With boorish manners, strut away to court, 
 Too honest, there, to become ought but sporty 
 Whereas, had he but staid where Nature meant, 
 He had been useful, and much less had spent; 
 Might have sold turnips, onions, and potatoes, 
 And given the poor some, every season gratis ; 
 Might have sold poultry, butter, cheese, and eggs, 
 Bullocks and cows, and sheep, and calves, and pigs . 
 Have sat at ease in his own chimney nook; 
 Enjoyed his pipe and purl, and cracked his joke; 
 And, when his spark of fleeting life had flown, 
 Slipped to his grave with pastoral renown. 
 Nature presents us with an useful tailor, 
 We straightly change him to an useless sailor: 
 And oft a weaver, ready from her hand, 
 Is made a king of; — witness Ferdinand ! 
 Yes, Ferdinand, Iberia V scourge and shame, 
 He whom the muses almost blush to name; 
 He, whom Contempt must waft to future times, 
 And all Parnassus damn, with all its rhymes — 
 
165 
 
 RUBRO. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 •*r^f+*^*> 
 
 I. 
 
 As the Caroline frigate was just setting sail, 
 Before a fine breeze, from the port of Kinsale, 
 As bold as a beggar, as drunk as a lord, 
 Old Rubro, the captain, came staggering on board, 
 Derry down, down, hey derry, &e, 
 
 II. 
 
 He raged like a bear, fore and aft, through the ship, 
 Till over the cable his hap was to trip, 
 And his ballast being much over-light for his sail, 
 Right oyer the bow in the ocean he fell, 
 Derry down, &c. 
 p 3 
 
166 
 
 III. 
 
 Now Rubro bad got, as you well may suppose. 
 By drinking of brandy, a very fine nose — 
 A nose, such as rarely is seen between eyes, 
 A nose that resembled a trumpet in size. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 This nose being red, it so shone in the dark, 
 That it quickly attracted the eyes of a shark ; 
 And the shark, being pretty well up to his trade, 
 To make sure of the nose, he bit off the whole head. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Just then father Neptune emerged from the sea, 
 And, eyeing the body, thus gravely said he: 
 " Ah, Rubro I you've met with the punishment due, 
 " For you drank all the grog and gave none to the 
 crew." 
 
167 
 
 VI. 
 
 u May your fate be a warning to low and to high, 
 « Ne'er to guzzle top much when a neighbour is dry ! 
 " May it teach them how leaky is life's fickle bark, 
 How slippery the decks, and that Death is a shark/' 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 +*■++■++'■+*< 
 
 A SOLDIER'S LETTER VERSIFIED. 
 
 DATED ABERDEEN, 1798. 
 
 *>#•** .#>**^ 
 
 The other day, a hardy son of Mars, 
 
 Whose front bears many honourable scars, 1 
 
 Whose sun-burnt brow oft droppM the briny sweat 
 
 Within the torrid zone^ in dog-star heat, 
 
 Was very very dry, but fate severe 
 
 Denied the price of one poor glass of beer ! 
 
168 
 
 Hard was his case, indeed, so let me tell ye, 
 
 The veteran stripped his back to serve his belly, 
 
 For which poor back was doom'd with martial rigour. 
 
 To pay with skin for linen and for liquor. 
 
 The appointed morning came, the bugle's throat 
 
 Warned the battalion to the fatal spot, 
 
 Where the drum-major, with his hateful squad, 
 
 The instruments of torture had displayed ; 
 
 The colonel gave command the lash to ply, 
 
 And thus the veteran spoke and heav'd a sigh,— 
 
 Thus he remonstrated; for no condition 
 
 Could bring him to the meanness of petition: 
 
 u 'Tis hard this back, which ne'er was turn'd on foe, 
 
 Should, for a trifle, such treatment undergo, 
 
 While others, who T easily could name, 
 
 May with impunity commit the same. 
 
 Sir, in your regiment there is a man 
 
 Who from his neighbour stole a fine new suit ; 
 
 You know the thing was done, you know the man, 
 
 Yet on the business you've been always mute — 
 
 I humbly own I merit well the lash — 
 
 But why make Jish of one and t'other flesh" 
 
 The colonel wildly look'd, like Hercules strode, 
 
 And swore it was an arrant lie, by G— ; 
 
169 
 
 (t Howe'er," he added, " name him, and, by heaven, 
 
 Thy sentence, every lash, shall be forgiven." 
 
 The culprit sternly answered, " that I can," 
 
 And, ( as the prophet said of old,) " thou art the man 
 
 Who stole the suit — nay, more, upon my life, 
 
 In that same suit you stole your neighbour's wife" 
 
 To call this truth I can't, indeed, pretend, 
 
 But this I can inform you, to be brief, 
 The colonel heard it scarcely to an end, 
 When off he sneaked — not much unlike a thief. 
 
 ,#*.#*'.**■**' 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON J. S. WHO EXPIRED AT THE ALTAR OF 
 BACCHUS. 
 
 •**+■*■++++■ 
 
 Here lies ■ « ■ ■ ■ low in dust, 
 
 As every mortal sometime must* 
 His roaring tongue at last is quiet, 
 And in its place the worms riot ; 
 
170 
 
 That tongue in which Jack took such pride, 
 
 That often spoke, and often lied. 
 
 Would any know his freaks and whims, 
 
 And how he used his other limbs, 
 
 His life, though long, yet short the story, 
 
 Here bona fide laid before ye— 
 
 He got his body full of scars. 
 
 And lost his nose in Venus' wars; 
 
 'Twas said another member failed him, 
 
 That is the doctor had 
 
 He once upon a pillory stood, 
 
 I beard it said 'twas for no good; 
 
 Where, with a knife, or pair of sheers, 
 
 The hangman cropped off both his ears ; 
 
 And once, in a nocturnal riot, 
 
 He got a blow that knocked his eye out ; 
 
 But Death, lest Ketch should take his spunk, * 
 
 Upon a night when Jack got drunk, 
 
 Came in a flaming brandy vapour, 
 
 Cutting a pretty mortal caper, 
 
 And threw his dart with such a drive 
 
 As killed what yet was left alive. 
 
 * Life. 
 
171 
 
 TO BEAUTY. 
 
 Beauty, thou pretty pouting roguish jade, 
 With neck of snow, and cheeks of rosy red, 
 And teeth of iv'ry, smooth and neat, 
 And flowing locks, as black as jet ; 
 Lips of the reddest cherry's hue, 
 And laughing eyes of sparkling blue ; * 
 The trimmest leg that e'er was seen, 
 The lightest foot that trips the green ; 
 Two fair white globes heave on thy breast, 
 And, u Oh, come clasp me ! " cries thy waist. 
 Beauty, thy form, from toe to top, 
 Would tempt St. Peter's heir, the Pope. 
 
 • Or black— 
 
172 
 
 Beauty, thou art a baited hook, 
 And man the tenant of the brook, 
 Who, Wanting caution, swallows all he meets, 
 Till oft both bait and barbed hook he eats. 
 Thou art a leg of sheep, both fair and fat, 
 Placed, in the view of man, a hungry glutton ; 
 Thou art the very thing he would be at — 
 How his mouth waters to enjoy the mutton ! 
 Thou art a magnet, man is steel, 
 Go where thou wilt, that follows at thy heel; 
 Aye, should'st thou lead the way to Nick. 
 Close and more close to thee he'll stick. 
 Beauty, to me what art thou not ? 
 
 My balm of life, my light of day- 
 Come, dearest maid ! then, to my cot, 
 
 And chase the fiend, Disease, away. 
 
173 
 
 A friend wrote to me from the island of 
 Ithaca, that the colour had left his nose for tack 
 of proper nourishment, and I sent him a bottle of 
 WHISKEY, with the following lines. 
 
 <+£*++*■*++' 
 
 " Dear D d, what a day of woes I 
 
 Gone is the splendour of thy nose — 
 Wan is that glowing queen of noses, 
 Whose crimson dye made pale the roses — 
 Alas ! can nought on earth renew 
 Its jolly laughing florid hue, 
 With lively tints of varying blue." 
 Thus did I mourn, with downcast eye, 
 Heaving full many a bitter sigh, 
 When in did ruddy Bacchus rush, 
 With a huge can of FER1NTOSH,— 
 And vanish'd from my gazing sight 
 Again, in a bright blaze of light ; 
 Leaving the can upon the table, 
 And on the lid was fixed this label : 
 ** A cure for vapours and for spleen, 
 A cure for headachs and chagrin, 
 Q 
 
 i 
 
174 
 
 i A cure for melancholy, care, 
 For disappointment and despair; 
 A cure for every human ail; 
 A cure for smuts that are grown pale." 
 So a full chopin here I send you, 
 (And with it may all good attend you,) 
 To save the best feature of your face 
 From falling into pale disgrace. 
 That night the year is at an end, 
 Enjoy it with your heartiest friend ; 
 And if your nose thenceforth don't shine, 
 I'll be content to forfeit mine. 
 
 Thanks for the wine, in time you sent it,— 
 How well you knew the thing we wanted ! 
 For when good wine has filled our hearts, 
 We kick old Care until he 
 
 On new year's eve, around the hearth, 
 Libations shall be poured to Mirth ; 
 And Time, to listen to his song, 
 Shall linger as he moves along. 
 
175 
 
 Then in a flowing cup Fll drink 
 Your health, or may I cease to think ; 
 For trust me, while JT wear a nose, 
 I am the foe of all your foes. 
 
 FROM AN 
 
 ITALIAN TRANSLATION 
 
 SCLAVONIC BALLAD. 
 
 *sr **-**>*#• 
 
 Where untrodden forests spread, 
 O'er bleak moor and craggy hill, 
 Where the oozy caverns dread 
 Cold and morbid drops distil. 
 
 II. 
 
 Stretcht on a cold rock forlorn, 
 All amid this dreary scene, 
 Of a haughty beauty^s scorn, 
 A young shepherd did complain, 
 a 2 
 
176 
 
 III. 
 
 Flames of Love rage in his breast, 
 From his eyes a torrent pours, 
 His bared bosom meets the blast — 
 On his head descend the showers. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Lo ! J> he cries, <f when Philomel, 
 " Melts in melody of song, 
 " Her mate wakes the vocal vale, 
 " The sad numbers to prolong. 
 
 V. 
 
 u Young Aurora's cheeks of bloom 
 " Are seen bath'd in dewy tears, 
 " But, to dissipate the gloom, 
 €i Soon her faithful Sol appears, 
 
 VI. 
 
 " But a hopeless fate is mine, 
 " She that has my heart in chains 
 " With indifference lets me pine, 
 i( Nay, exults to see my pains." 
 
177 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thus he lay, till on his sight 
 Doubtful rays of morning grew, 
 When, to shun the hated light, 
 To the thickest shades he flew. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Where upon the polished rind 
 Of a beech, by ivy bound, 
 In a well known hand designed, 
 Two fell sentences he found. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Which imported that Irene, 
 
 Hated him and loved another ; 
 
 And, by way of nota bene, 
 
 Bade him hang, or drown, or smother* 
 
 X. 
 
 His limbs became by weakness smitten, 
 Darkness o'er his vision fell; 
 By the fair one's hand 'twas written, 
 The characters he knew too well, 
 a 3 
 
178 
 
 XI. 
 
 His heart laboured in his breast, 
 And went nigh to burst in twain. — 
 u Ah ! too cruel maid ! " he cried, 
 And fell speechless on the plain. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But Irene, from a thicket, 
 Where she'd snugly lain perdue, 
 Just to see how he would take it, 
 Quick as lightning to him flew, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 a Speak, O, Damon ! " she exclaimed, 
 " Ere the joke so far Pd carried, 
 " I wish my fingers had been maimed ! 
 u I wish ! — I wish !— I had been married ! " 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " And to me?" he starting cried. 
 " Yes, dear Damon! banish sorrow — V 
 " And wilt thou, wilt thou be my bride ? " 
 " Yes, e'en if you please tomorrow." 
 
179 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON CARDINAL RICHELIEU, 
 
 By Isaac de Benserade, for whom he had obtained 
 a Pension. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH, * 
 
 Here Richelieu, alas! lies low, 
 Knocked down by felon Death's fell blow; 
 What grieves me more, alas ! to mention, 
 That blow has blown away my pension. 
 
 ANOTHER VERSION. 
 
 Here lies, as dead and cold as clay, 
 The Cardinal de Richelieu : 
 
 What grieves me more, alas ! to say, 
 Here, with him, lies my pension, too. 
 
 * Ci-gist, oui gist, par la mort bleu, 
 Le Cardinal de Richelieu ; 
 Et ce qui cause mon ennuy, 
 Ma pension avecque luy. 
 
180 
 
 ON Mr. L N, THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH. * 
 
 +*•++■++•**> 
 
 'Tis said that Pluto's drear dominion, 
 Is a place of groans and sighs, 
 Where tears flow, as if an onion 
 Were beneath each Spectre's eyes : 
 
 But when L n gets to hell, 
 
 Misery there shall cease to yell ; 
 
 And thenceforth, for ever after, 
 
 Nought be heard but mirth and laughter. 
 
 ; Pluton, Prince da noir empire; 
 Ou le tiens ne rient jamai3, 
 Recois aujourd'hui RABELAIS, 
 Et vous aurez tous de quoi rire. 
 
 Antoinb de Baif. 
 
181 
 ON AN ELEPHAN.T. 
 
 FROM THE ITALIAN. * 
 
 ^^•^r^r^r 
 
 To know myself, before I died, 
 The first of Brutes, was all my pride; 
 But, reader, now, since here I lie, 
 Thou art a greater brute than I. 
 
 >#*•.*** .*#•■#<#' 
 
 ON Mr- W N, A BUTCHER, 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE ITALIAN, f 
 
 Here Tom W n's body lies, 
 
 Pass in silence lest he rise ; 
 
 Should he break from Death's controul, 
 
 L — d have mercy on thy soul ! 
 
 For his propensity has long been known, 
 
 For knocking brutes, e'en such as thou art, down. 
 
 * Gia vivo io mi cridea portar l'onore 
 D'esser bestia, d'ogn' altra assai maggiore ; 
 Ma ogn* un che legge TEpitafio mio. 
 E una bestia maggior che non' son io — 
 
 f Ferma lettor, non ti partire ancora; 
 Che le bestie amazzo qui morto giace; 
 Hor, che turbi, tu bestia, a lui la pace, 
 Per ncciderti in breve uscira fora. 
 
182 
 ON A MONKEY. 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE ITALIAN. * 
 
 Once a playful ape was I 
 Who beneath this marble lie — 
 
 Reader, would'st thou know what grace 
 Once adorned my living face, 
 Quickly to thy chamber pass, 
 To thy faithful looking-glass. 
 
 * Qui giocoso animal sepolto io giaccio ; 
 Se, come io mi chiamai, saper tu vuoi, 
 Lettor, corri a lo specchio, e vera poi 
 Vedrai 1'effigie mia nell tuo mostaccio— 
 
 END OF THE POEMS. 
 
NOTES. 
 
185 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE a, PAGE 6. 
 « 0, what is fairer than the Cana," &c. 
 
 The Cana and the Rowan are the lily and the rose 
 of the Gaelic bards. The Rowan is the berry of the 
 mountain-ash, varying in its colour from the dirtiest 
 pale red, to the most beautiful crimson. 
 
 The Cana, or Cannach, is a plant abounding in the 
 Highland mosses: its blossom forms a spherical tuft 
 about the size of a common walnut, of the most beau- 
 tiful white downy cotton, supported by a slender rushy 
 stem, twelve or fourteen inches high. 
 
 NOTE b, PAGE 8. 
 
 Air. — " Mari Laoghach '? — Lovely Mary. 
 
 This song is imitated from the Gaelic, a circumstance, 
 by mistake, not mentioned in its proper place. Indeed, 
 it is, with the exception of the chorus, almost a literal 
 
186 
 
 translation, particularly the third, fourth, and fifth 
 stanzas. The uncommon spirit, and beauty of expres- 
 sion, in the original, are not, however, easily preserved 
 in another language. The chorus, like almost all the 
 Gaelic choruses, is purely musical, and, therefore, in? 
 capable of translation : an attempt would be like trying 
 to turn the English " derry down," into Italian. 
 
 In Stewart's collection Mari Laoghach is printed 
 vol. 1, page 120, without an author's name; though 
 it might easily have been traced to a gentleman of the 
 name of Mc Kenze, the author of many other fine lyrics, 
 all bearing the same stamp of genuine feeling. 
 
 For the gratification of the Gaelic scholar, I shall 
 Here insert the whole song. 
 
 MARI LAOGHAOH. 
 
 LUINJCIAG. 
 
 Hp mo Mhari laoghach, 
 'S tu mo Mhari bhinn, 
 Ho mo Mhari laoghach, ] 
 >S tu mo Mhari ghrihn, 
 Ho mo Mhari laoghach 
 ,Stu mo Mhari bhinn; 
 Mo Mhari bhoidheach lurach, 
 Rugadh ana 'sGlinn.j 
 
 Bog bha mis, a's Mari 'm fasaicheàn Ghlinn Smeoil, 
 >N' air chuir macaa Bhenais saighid gheur,nam' fheoil, 
 Tharruing sinn gu cheile ann an eud cp beo, 
 '3 nach robh air an t saoghal, a thug gaol co mor. 
 
 'Stric bhajmis, a's Mari, falbh na'm fasach fial, 
 
 Gun smaolntean air fal-bheart, gun chall go droch gniomh, 
 
187 
 
 Cupid ga nar taladh arm an cairdeas dian, 
 
 'S barr ua'n craobh mar sgail dhuinn, 'nuair a b* aird a ghrian. 
 
 Ged bu leamsa Alba, a h-airgid a's, a maoin, 
 
 Cia mar bhithinn sonadh, gun do chomunn gaoil, 
 
 B' annsa bhi ga. ri' phogadh, le deagh choir dhomh f hein, 
 
 No ged fhaighinn storas na Roinn-Eorp' gu leir. 
 
 Tha do bhrollach solais Ian de shonas graidh, 
 Uchd a's gile sheallas, na 'n eala air an t snamh, 
 Tha do mbin shlios fallain, mar canach a chair, 
 Muineal mar an fhaoilean fadh 'n aodain a's ailte. 
 
 Tha t'fhalt bachlach, duaiach, mo do chluais a' fas, 
 
 Thug nadur gach buaidh dha, ,hair gach gruaig a d'has, 
 
 Cha 'n eil dragh, na tuairgne, na chuir suas gach la, 
 
 Ohass gach ciamh mu 'n cuairt dhe, 's e na dhuail gu bharr. ; 
 
 Tha do chailc dheud shnaighte; mar chnechda na 'n ard, 
 T'anail mar an caineal, beul s 'm banail failt ; 
 CJruaidh air dhreach an t siris, min rasg chinnealt, thia, 
 Mala chaol gun ghruaman, gnuis gheal, 's cuaeh fhalt ban. 
 
 Thug ar »n uabhar barr air ailgheas righrean mori; 
 
 B'aid ar leabaidh stata duilleach, 's barr an fheoir ;] 
 
 Flu rate he an an f hasaich toirt dhuinn cail, a's troir, 
 
 A's etruthain ghlan na'n ardbheann chuireadh slaint sgach por. 
 
 Cha robh inneal ciuil, a thuradh riamh fudh 'n ghrein, 
 A dh' aithriseadh air choir gach ceol bhiodh aguinn fheio, 
 TJiseag air gach lonan, smeorach air gach geig, 
 Chuag a's gug gug aic 'm madain churaidh Cheit. 
 
 NOTE c, PAGE 11. 
 
 " Air. — Cuir a chinn dilis tharam do lamh— " 
 
 " They have lately, in Ireland, published an Irish air, 
 as they say, called " Can dudelish." The fact is, in a 
 
 R 2 
 
188 
 
 publication of Corri's, a great while ago, you will find 
 the same air called a Highland one. Its name there, 
 I think, is Oran Gaoil, and a fine air it is* 
 
 I shrewdly suspect that the wandering minstrels, 
 harpers, and pipers, used to go frequently errant through 
 the wilds of both Scotland and Ireland, and so some fa- 
 vourite airs may be common to both." 
 
 Burn's Letters to Thompson, August, 1793. 
 Ao. 33, Works 8vo, page 33. 
 
 There are two beautiful Gaelic songs, and both of 
 considerable antiquity, to this sweet air. A translation 
 of one of them by a lady, is inserted in Johnson's Scot's 
 Musical Museum, Vol. II, the same, I believe, to which 
 Burns alludes, as published by Corn, some time be- 
 fore the date of his letter, 1793. The lady's version, 
 however, though very literal, conveys no idea of the 
 spirit and felicity of expression of the original, of which 
 I remember only the chorus and the first stanza : here 
 they are, 
 
 LUINNE AG.— CHORUS. 
 
 Cuir a chinn dilis, dilis, dilis, 
 
 Cuir a chinn dilis tharam do lamh — 
 
 Do shuilin gorm maellach a mhealladh na milltean 
 
 'S duine gun chli nach thugadh dhut gragh — 
 
 'S mi m' shuigh* air an tullich, aig tuirreagh *s aig 
 
 caona\ 
 Bhuail Saighead a ghaoil mi dirach gu m* s'hail. 
 
189 
 
 Dh 'fas mi cho lag's nach b* urin mi direadh^ 
 Le goirtas mo chinn 's nach do shin u dhoir ih fernfe^, 
 Cuir a chinn dilis, &c, 
 
 The words in the present volume are originaL 
 
 NOTE d, PAGE 14. 
 
 st Fare thee well my native cottage* 
 Where I oft in artless rhimes, 
 To the listening mountain beauties* 
 Sung love-tales of other times/' && 
 
 u The Highlanders hear with astonishment of soci- 
 eties where every individual makes his sense of inde- 
 pendence to consist in keeping at a distance, from 
 another." 
 
 The Baile or hamlet, consisted of from four to twenty 
 families. It was usual for the young womeitof a hamlet 
 to carry their work to the houses of each other's parents 
 alternately. In those societies oral learning was at- 
 tained without interrupting the progress of industry. 
 The matron of the mansion found- in her youthful au- 
 dience ready and respectful listeners, and she took 
 pleasure in instructing them fir whatever branch of 
 knowledge she excelled. 
 
 The next day the young females met in a different 
 cottage, where a different sort of entertainment and 
 instruction awaited them, and so on in succession, until 
 R 3 
 
190 
 
 they made the round of the hamlet. Thus, in some 
 degree, the matrons of a village might be compared 
 to the professors of a college, and the young maidens to 
 students attending their lectures. The learning pf these 
 matrons was various: one excelled in poetry, one in 
 criticism, a third in history, and a fourth in genealogy, 
 biography, legendary learning, &c. 
 
 The lover, when night relieved him from his daily 
 occupation, flew to the society of these damsels, to meet 
 his mistress, or, if she lived at a distance, to repeat the 
 last " sonnet he had composed to her eye-brow," (for 
 love can make poets of us all,) and to receive applause 
 or suffer neglect according to the merit of his work. 
 
 With us, though impartial criticism may condemn, 
 still, fools mpy publish, and fools may buy : with them 
 it was otherwise — what could not be published in such 
 societies as I have mentioned, could not be published 
 at all : they were to them what the press is to us. A 
 song that was learnt by only a few, out of mere Com- 
 pliment to its author, was soon forgot. It may be 
 readily supposed that local circumstances, sometimes, 
 gave a temporary existence to very indifferent compo- 
 sitions ; but their popularity being confined to the dis- 
 tricts where the subjects of them were known, with 
 those subjects they generally expired. 
 
 I have spoken in the past tense, because, within a 
 few years, the manners of my countrymen have suffered 
 a total revolution; very little to the advantage of the 
 
191 
 
 present race, who are neither so hospitable, so learned, 
 nor so pious as the generation they have succeeded. 
 
 About thirty years ago the work of desolation was 
 making rapid progress ; the greater part of Argyle, 
 Lochaber, the Braes of Baddenoch, as well as the Isles 
 of Sky and Mull, the classic ground of the north, had 
 undergone a partial change : still, however, the people 
 clung to their ancient customs. Since that period, the 
 greater part of the Highlands has been converted into a 
 number of large sheep-walks; and such of the Gael as 
 possessed the spirit of their ancestors, disdaining to 
 become drudges and day-labourers to their Lowland 
 neighbours, sought independence on the other side of 
 the Atlantic; carrying with them their prejudices and 
 their virtues. What time may make of them, under 
 different circumstances, time alone can show. 
 
 Of the wisdom or folly of those who drove them 
 from their native Straths, I shall say nothing. Were 
 I to give utterance to all my opinions on the subject, 
 what I intend for a few brief sketches would dilate into 
 volumes. 
 
 I was early initiated in all the occult sciences of the 
 Gael : since that period I have paid some attention to 
 the superstitions of other nations, and I have at length 
 arrived at this conclusion; that the Highlanders, not- 
 withstanding all that has been said and written on the 
 subject, were not more superstitious than their neigh- 
 bours; and that their superstitions were, for the most, 
 of a nature calculated to elevate and refine the senti- 
 
192 
 
 ments, whereas those of others, are, in general, calcu- 
 lated to debase the soul, pervert the reason, and stultify 
 all the mental faculties. 
 
 But though the superstitions of the Gael were not 
 more gross nor more numerous than those of their 
 neighbours, they were peculiar to themselves, and 
 for that reason, interesting. In what follows, 1 shall 
 confine myself to such as have not been mentioned, 
 or but slightly mentioned, by other authors : passing 
 by the common witch, the common ghost, and the 
 common fairy ; and the second-sight has been so often 
 mentioned, that no new light can be thrown upon the 
 subject. Indeed the citizens of London know much 
 more about it than ever I could learn, except from 
 books. 
 
 Whether the Gael derived their ideas of a deity from 
 Gaul or Phoenicia, it would, perhaps, be a waste of time 
 to enquire. Men of learning and abilities have con- 
 tended for both opinions, and supported their theories 
 with plausible testimonies. One thing certain, is, that 
 at a very remote era, they believed in one supreme 
 Rller of the universe, whom they called Dia, (God,) 
 from Ti tha, or Di tha, the Being who is ; pronounced 
 Di-ha, and thence contracted into Dia : and in the 
 existence of a principle of evil, called Deamham, 
 (Daemon,) from Deamh-aon, the evil one. 
 
 Thus, Christianity made but a very slight alteration 
 in the essential part of their religion, and could never 
 altogether eradicate their primitive opinions. 
 
193 
 
 Their heaven was called elath-inis, the noble isle, 
 situated far in the west ; and it is the only word in 
 the Gaelic language at this day to signify heaven. 
 Their hell was called ifrin, an island in the north, 
 where the spirits of the damned were punished by al- 
 ternate exposure to the extremes of heat and cold. 
 Ifrin is, also, the modern term for hell. They believed 
 that the heavenly bodies were inhabited by intelligences 
 subordinate to the Divinity. It appears, however, that, 
 with one exception, no divine worship was offered 
 to those spirits. That one exception was the Spirit 
 of the Sun, grian-aise ; to whom certain rites, under 
 this name, and under the appellation of Bel ox Baah 
 were performed. 
 
 Though they believed God to be the sole and direct 
 agent in every operation of Nature, they thought his 
 decrees by no means unalterable. Hence arose divi- 
 nation, by which they fancied they could penetrate 
 into his designs ; sacrifices and prayers, by which they 
 deprecated his wrath ; and charms and enchantments, 
 through the power of which they hoped, in a great 
 measure, to become independent on his will. 
 
 Their methods of divination were various. That 
 upon which the greatest reliance was placed was Slin* 
 rachd, from the word slinag, a shoulder. It was 
 performed thus: the meat was cleared from a shoul- 
 der blade of mutton, &c. without the assistance of a 
 knife or any other iron weapon ; the diviner inspected 
 
194 
 
 carefully the transparent part of the bonei and from the 
 disposition of certain spots, predicted whatever remark- 
 able was to happen in the family, or to any of the rela- 
 tions of the person from whose flock or herd the animal 
 had been taken. In this manner hidden treasure was 
 discovered at the mere expense of a shoulder of mutton ; 
 and a rapid rise to affluence was oftener attributed to 
 such a cause than to the industry or skill of the pos- 
 sessor. 
 
 Many wonderful stories are related of these Diviners. 
 Among other anecdotes of this description, 1 heard an old 
 man often relate the following, to which he declared he 
 had been an eye-witness : about seventy years ago, there 
 lived in the house of a gentleman in the Braes of Bad* 
 enoch, a domestic of the name of Mac Tavish, so famous 
 for his skill in this art, that another travelled from a 
 remote part of the Western Highlands, in order to dis- 
 pute the palm of skill with him. 
 
 The stranger, having announced his name and the 
 purpose of his visit, Mac Tavish's patron prepared a 
 dinner, to which he invited a numerous company of his 
 friends. 
 
 After dinner, a prepared shoulder was presented to 
 each of the sages, and the guests became mute as 
 silence. After a considerable pause, the stranger, 
 whose name, 1 think, was Mac Lean, declared that within 
 a very short distance of the spot on which he then sat, 
 and within a period of time not exceeding eighteen 
 hours, some person should suffer death by hanging; 
 
195 
 
 a circumstance so unlikely that incredulity was mani- 
 fest among the company. However it naturally occurred 
 to them, that, if Time was pregnant with such a dire 
 event, it would appear to Mac Tavish also, of whose 
 skill they had had sufficient proofs on many occasions; 
 for he had foreseen and foretold the temporary success 
 of the cause of the Stewarts, a few years before, and 
 warned his master accordingly, who took no part in 
 it. Mac Tavish said he was bound to confirm so much 
 of what had been already predicted as related to the 
 act of suffering death by suspension, and the period of 
 time that must previously elapse ; but that the crea- 
 ture destined to meet that untimely fate was adorned 
 with horns and hooves. 
 
 All was anxiety till next morning, when, lo ! the first 
 object that presented itself was a bull-calf hanging in 
 a ladder by the neck, and dead. The animal had put 
 his head through the bars of a ladder, which served as a 
 prop to a falling barn, on the eaves of which some tempt- 
 ing tufts of grass grew, and having lost his footing on the 
 opposite side of a drain by which the barn was sur« 
 rounded, in trying to extricate himself, he was left 
 suspended to perish ! ! 
 
 The stranger returned home with the reputation of 
 great skill, inferior only to the celebrated Mac Tavish. 
 
 Divination by dreams was common; but little 
 attention was paid to the interpreters. O'Keef, an 
 Irishman, however, is said never to have failed in de- 
 
196 
 
 daring {the true nature of a dream. He lived many 
 centuries ago, and never dreamed himself. 
 
 DIVINATION BY BIRDS. 
 
 The flight of eagles, the manner in which a hawk 
 took his game, and the croaking of ravens, were ac- 
 counted ominous. , 
 
 If the first wagtail one saw in the spring, stood 
 between him and his home, it foreboded death, a long 
 journey, or a removal from that to another dwelling. 
 
 To hear^the cuckoo for the first time fasting, fore- 
 told ill luck for the ensuing season. 
 
 TEIN-EGIN. 
 
 Forced or elementary fire was employed for purposes 
 of divination as well as for performing and counter- 
 acting charms and incantations. This fire was ex- 
 tracted by friction in various ways : by rapidly boring 
 a dry pine with an auger, ; by rubbing two dry pieces 
 of wood together ; or by turning a great wheel quickly 
 round till the spindle set fire to some combustible 
 matter. 
 
 If any person suspected that he was suffering from 
 the power of withcraft, either in person or substance, 
 recourse was had to those who professed to counteract 
 the power of darkness. Tein-Egin was extracted 
 within the pale of the church yard, or in some solitary 
 building, at midnight. A vessel filled with river water 
 
197 
 
 was carried nine times round it; and certain rhymes 
 repeated, and in this water the likeness of the wizard 
 or witch was clearly visible. 
 
 About the year 1780, a woman whom I knew well 
 afterwards, in her old age, and who passed to her grave 
 with the full reputation of a witch, was, by the elders 
 of the Parish of Laggan, in Inverness-shire, refused 
 permission to sit at the Lord's Table, on suspicion of 
 having destroyed, by means of Tien-Egin, a young 
 man, who had proved inconstant to her in love. 
 
 Tein-Egin was also used to kindle the fire at the 
 performance of the most horrible of all the superstitious 
 rites known to the Gael. This was called 
 
 TAIGHGHOIRM NA'N CAHT. 
 
 The powers possessed by witches and wizards were 
 various in degree. In general, one wizard had the 
 power of seven witches, and some had the power of 
 seven times seven. It seems that in entering into a com- 
 pact with the Prince of Darkness, which all wizards did, 
 a power was granted them of performing this rite when- 
 ever they pleased ; and the arch fiend agreed to grant 
 any two boons they might choose to ask, short of double 
 the common life of man, or possessions such as would ap- 
 pear miraculous. It was performed thus : Two warriors, 
 completely armed, met in a barn, or some other solitary 
 building, and kindled a fire by means of Tein-Egin, as 
 already mentioned ; repeating, at the same time, certain 
 mystic rhymes. A living cut was then spitted, put to 
 
 S 
 
198 
 
 the fire, and turned round in the same manner as a leg 
 of mutton is turned while roasting. In a short time, a 
 black cat entered, and, mentioning the person's name 
 who turned the spit, told him, in good Gaelic/* that that 
 was bad treatment for a cat/* (" Solchd an carabh caiht 
 sin.") The turnspit answered the ingressor, that, if 
 he did not keep quiet, he should be treated in the same 
 manner. Black cats continued to arrive at intervals, 
 to repeat the same observation, to receive the same an- 
 swer, and then to join their voices with the cat on the 
 spit, until near twelve o'clock on Saturday night, which 
 must put an end to their appearance, when a black cat 
 of an uncommon size and appearance, entered, and pro- 
 nounced a tremendous threat on the operator, if he did 
 not immediately desist : (this was a dsemon o frank, de- 
 nominated " Cluasa-leor" (long pendant ears,) from 
 the resemblance of his ears to those of a spaniel.) 
 Finding at length, his threats in vain, and the time of 
 his exit fast approaching, he tells them in civil terms, to 
 give over, and their request shall be granted. They 
 ask two boons each, and, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 the sable multitude vanish, and the remains of the 
 roasted cats disappear at the same time. 
 
 The evil one, it would appear, at first granted this li- 
 cence from having formed too mean an estimate of 
 human courage and resolution ; and, when it became 
 customary, it could not well be withheld. He thought 
 it improbable that any should be found, possessing suf- 
 ficient resolution to resist every call of nature, (the 
 
199 
 
 indulgence of any of which must have proved fatal,) 
 for three days and three nights, amidst the terrific din 
 of a thousand dcemons, ready to take advantage of 
 the least breach of formality, in order to tear him to 
 pieces. It was understood, that, in addition to the two 
 conditional grants, the prince of darkness was to resign 
 all claims to their services here, and their souls here- 
 after. 
 
 Few, of course, used Taighghoirm as the means of 
 arriving at the temple of Fortune, and the names of 
 those who did were long remembered with respect. 
 The word ** Taighghoirm/' means a house of noise, a 
 term perfectly applicable. 
 
 BEL-TEIN or BAEL-TIGHN. 
 
 This was evidently a propitiatory sacrifice to the 
 Sun, under the appellation of Bel or Baal. 
 
 La Bel-Tighn was on the first of May. Early on 
 that day Tein-Egin was privately extracted, and kind- 
 lings from it carried to every hamlet in the district. 
 At mid-day the people assembled on an eminence, lighted 
 a fire, and spent the remainder of the day in festivity 
 and mirth. 
 
 Among the viands on those occasions the principal 
 thing was The Bonnach Bel- Tighn, * the cake conse- 
 crated to the coining of Baal, because then the sunbegan 
 to appear in his strength* It was composed of oat-meal, 
 
 * It is very probable that the word Bun is derived from the Gaelic Bonnach, 
 a cake or loaf, aud that the custom of eating Buns on Good-Friday, may owe 
 its origin to the custom of eating the Bonnach Bel-tighn on the first of May. 
 
 s 2 
 
200 
 
 milk, butter, and eggs, A portion of this cake, as well 
 as of all the other component parts of the feast, was 
 thrown into the fire ; and it was believed that this offer- 
 ing induced the Spirit of the sun, Grian-Aise, or Baal, 
 to avert all evil from the produce of the ensuing season. 
 A split stick called Cloan-Bel-Tighn, was also provided 
 by every family, and a portion of every species of corn, 
 grass, herb, and flower that the land produced, placed 
 in the cleft of it. It was then carried three times round 
 the fire, and finally, borne home and deposited above 
 the door, where it remained until the succeeding LA- 
 bel-tighn, or first of May. 
 
 OPINIONS RESPECTING THE STATE OF 
 DEPARTED SPIRITS. 
 
 The admixture of Christianity with the ancient re- 
 ligion of the Gael, created infinite confusion of ideas, 
 with respect to the state of departed souls. Heaven 
 and Hell were sometimes mentioned from the pulpit; 
 but the nurse spoke daily of Flath-inis, and the Hills of 
 their departed kindred, to the children at her knee, 
 and ancient tales of those who had been favoured with 
 visions of the state of the dead, prevented the Christian 
 idea of heaven and hell from ever being properly estab- 
 lished. It was supposed that only the souls of the su- 
 premely good and brave were received into Flath-inis, 
 and those, only, of the very base and wicked were con- 
 demned to the torments of Ifrin. The Hills of their 
 
201 
 
 fathers were in an intermediate state, into which the 
 common run of mankind were received after death. 
 
 They had no notion of an immaterial being ; but 
 supposed that each spirit, on departing from this mortal 
 habitation, received a body subject to no decay, and 
 that men in a future state enjoyed such pleasures as had 
 been most congenial to their minds in this, without 
 being subject to any of the evils" that flesh is heir to." 
 
 The belief in the Hills of Spirits began, in general, 
 to give way soon after the reformation, and in some 
 parts of the Highlands it soon disappeared altogether. 
 Others, however, proved more tenacious of it, and, 
 among some clans and branches of clans, it lingered 
 until very lately. The Orc, a high conical hill in In- 
 verness-shire, was regarded by the House of Crubin, of 
 the clan Macpherson, as their future inheritance ; and 
 the House of Garva, of the same race, believed that 
 their spirits should inhabit Tom-mor. On the entrance 
 of every new inhabitant, those hills were seen by persons 
 at a certain distance, in a state of illumination. Tom- 
 mor was seen on fire, for the last time, 1 believe, about 
 thirty years ago, and it was confidently asserted that 
 some member of the house of Garva was passing from 
 this into a better state of existence. But no death 
 being heard of in the neighbourhood for some days, an 
 opinion, already on the decline, was on the eve of being 
 consigned to utter contempt, when, to the confusion of 
 the sceptics, news arrived that the daughter of a gentle- 
 man of the house of Garva had expired at Glasgow, at 
 
 s 3 
 
202 
 
 the very moment Tom-mor had been seen on a blaze. 
 But into whatever state the departed spirit passed, it 
 had, for a time, to return to perform a sacred duty on 
 earth. This was 
 
 FAIRE CHLOIDH, 
 
 (THE GRAVE WATCH.) 
 
 It was the duty of the spirit of the last person in- 
 terred, to stand centry at the grave-yard gate, from 
 sun-set until the crowing of the cock, every night, until 
 regularly relieved. This, sometimes, in thinly inhab- 
 ited parts of the country, happened to be a tedious and 
 severe duty ; and the duration of the I aire Chloidh gave 
 the deceased's surviving friends, sometimes, much un- 
 easiness. 
 
 About thirty years ago a young man had an inter- 
 view with the ghost of a neighbour's wife, while she 
 watched at the gate of old Laggan church-yard. She 
 was cloathed in a comfortable mantle of snow-white 
 flannel, adorned with red crosses, and appeared now, 
 though a very old woman at her decease, in the full 
 bloom of youth and beauty. She told him that she en- 
 joyed the felicity of Flath-inis, and they exchanged 
 snuff mulls. She directed him to a hidden treasure 
 she had hoarded, and desired it might be added to the 
 fortune of her daughter, who, she said, was to be mar- 
 ried on a certain day, which she named, and, strange to 
 say, though the girl was not then courted, she became 
 a wife on the day foretold. 
 
203 
 
 NOTE e, PAGE 16. 
 " Fare thee well, thou sacred circle/' 
 
 It was a vulgar opinion that the spirits of such as 
 were buried in foreign countries, were obliged to per- 
 form a nightly pilgrimage to their native hills, in order 
 to commune with the spirits of their kindred. To ob- 
 viate this posthumous inconvenience, when a High- 
 lander happened to die at a distance, his family, though, 
 perhaps, at the expense of their last shilling, esteemed 
 it a sacred duty to have his remains carried home, and 
 deposited among the remains, of his ancestors. The 
 corpse was all the way borne on the shoulders of men, 
 who found it requisite sometimes to lay down their 
 burden, by the way side, to rest themselves. On such 
 occasions, a cairn, or heap of stones, was raised on 
 the spot, and it was customary for every person that 
 passed, as long as any could be found in the vicinity, to 
 augment it by a stone. 
 
 Cairns were sometimes raised on other occasions. 
 Before the Highlanders entered the pass of Druimua* 
 car, 1689, on their way to join Dundee, they erected a 
 cairn by putting in each man a stone. As many of 
 them as returned, after their victory at Raon-Ruari,— . 
 Killy-crankie, — raised a second cairn in the same man- 
 ner, but, alas ! it was not above half the size of the first. 
 
 The Highlanders thought this unproductive victory 
 
204 
 
 dearly purchased by the loss of so many brave men, 
 and, above all, by the death of Lord Dundee, or, as he 
 was emphatically called, Clavers — their general, who it 
 is believed was shot from behind, by a fanatic, who, 
 by feigning different principles, contrived, with a view 
 to his destruction, to become his servant. 
 
 NOTE f, PAGE 17. 
 
 " Air,— Roy's Wife." 
 
 This fine Gaelic air is, at least, two hundred years 
 old. By the bye, the last stanza of the popular song 
 " Roy's Wife," has been rendered absolute nonsense, 
 by the creation of the uncouth term, Walloch, as a 
 convenient rhyme for Aldivalloch. On reading 
 the stanza in question, a stranger is naturally led to 
 suppose that the Highland Walloch is a popular dance 
 in the north ; though it is quite certain that such a 
 dance was never heard of there, nor, indeed, any where 
 else, except in " Roy's Wife." 
 
 NOTE g, PAGE 22. 
 
 Air. — " Tha n'oiche nocdh ro anranach." &c. 
 
 This air is the same as the Lowland air " She rose 
 and let me in — " The Gaelic air is of considerable 
 antiquity. 
 
205 
 
 NOTE h, PAGE 34 
 
 Glen Troom, or Truim, is a very romantic valley in 
 the district of Badenoch. It receives its appellation 
 from the Truim, a tributary stream to the Spey, which 
 flows through it over a channel of round polished 
 pebbles, so remarkably white, that where the stream is 
 of considerable depth, it appears to the eye quite shal- 
 low. 
 
 Within a short distance of Glen-Troom is Loch-Er- 
 rochd, a beautiful expanse of water, fourteen miles long, 
 and from one to two broad. In wild magnificence and 
 romantic beauty, with the exception, perhaps, of the 
 valleys of Loch-Laggan and Loch-Ness, Loch-Erroch- 
 side yields to noplace in Scotland. Tradition says that 
 it was formed by the inundation of the Parish of St. 
 Peter ; and very quick-sighted persons pretend to see 
 the walls of the Parish Church in clear weather, 
 
 NOTE i, PAGE 44. 
 
 Air. — (i Gligram Choss" 
 
 " I am pleased that you are reconciled to the t Qua- 
 ker's Wife/ though, by the bye, an old Highland gen- 
 tleman, and a deep antiquarian, tells me it is a Gaelic 
 air, and known by the name of Leiger and Choss. 
 
 Burns. — Letter to Thompson, October, 1793. 
 
206 
 
 Leiger am Choss, or rather " An Gligram Chos," is 
 much older than even George Fox, and has, therefore, 
 a fair claim to be considered as the original. 
 
 NOTE k, PAGE 49. 
 
 In wrestling ringlets flowed her hair, &c. 
 Fall na dhualabh cuakach cleachdacfu — 
 
 The author of this elegant line is unknown. Like all 
 fine poetical expressions, it has been so much hack- 
 neyed that its beauty is generally overlooked. 
 
 NOTE 1, PAGE 49. 
 She was a beam of life and light — 
 Geug sliollais Ian sonais.- — Wm. Ross. 
 
 An deo-ghreine bheothail ur — Anon. 
 She is a sun-beam full of life and youth. 
 
 Lord Byron can hardly, be supposed to have had ei- 
 ther of these verses in view when he said of one of his 
 heroines, that, " She was a form of life and light?' 
 
 NOTE m, PAGE 55. 
 Air.— is An Gille du' cair du\" 
 
 This fine air is attributed to a Highland Sapho 
 oY the thirteenth centurv. Burns became so ena- 
 
207 
 
 moured of it, on hearing it sung by a lady, during his 
 peregrination to the mountains, that he immediately 
 wrote verses to it ; and it became then known, for the 
 first time, I believe, to the English reader. To the same 
 poet's taste for the beauties of simple melody, and to 
 the same lady's singing, we owe the " Banks of Devon," 
 called in Gaelic, " Banairach dhonn a chruigh." 
 
 NOTE n, PAGE 58. ( 
 
 The Hunter of the Moor.— A Ballad. 
 
 The names and localities are the only fictions in this 
 ballad. 
 
 NOTE o, PAGE 63. 
 Air.—" Morag." 
 
 This deservedly popular air, though very ancient, be- 
 came known in the capital of Scotland, only fifty or 
 sixty years ago. I think not so early, " The young 
 Highland Rover," and another song, both by Burns, are 
 the only English words hitherto adapted to it. 
 
 Mprag and Mary are the Chloe and Phillis of the 
 Gaelic bards. 
 
 NOTE p, PAGE 69. 
 
 When Scotia, heavenly maid, was young — 
 
 When Music, heavenly maid, was young— 
 
 Collins. 
 
208 
 
 NOTE q, PAGE 70. 
 
 Old Time on eagle pinions flew, 
 And Valour saw the light. 
 
 Old Time exulted as he flew, 
 And Independence saw the light. 
 
 Smollett. 
 
 NOTE r, PAGE 104. 
 
 When on that promontory's misty brow, 
 
 Whence hapless Sapho dashed the waves below, &c. 
 
 Venus, having long in vain sought her lover Adonis, 
 found him, at length, dead upon the island of Leucadia, 
 in the temple of Apollo. The god was so moved at 
 her grief that he led her to the promontory of Leucas, 
 and told her, that by throwing herself from the top of 
 the precipice, the violence of her grief would certainly 
 abate; she did so, and succeeded. Curiosity prompted 
 her to enquire the cause of so wonderful an effect ; and 
 Apollo told her that Jupiter, inflamed with love of Juno, 
 reclined on this rock till his desire cooled, and from 
 that time many lovers had broke the chains of Cupid, 
 by flinging themselves from the top ; whence it was 
 called " The lover's leap." 
 
 Sapho, while under the influence of a violent passion 
 for Phaon, a youth Mitylene, prayed to Venus for relief; 
 the goddess advised her to try «* The lover's leap/' 
 she complied and perished in making the experiment. 
 
209 
 
 In ancient times it was a custom with mariners, on 
 passing the promontory of Leucas, to make an offering 
 of money to Venus ; and among the numerous heathen 
 rites engrafted on Christianity, this is one ; for, at the 
 present day, not a boat passes the place without offering 
 some oboli, as a propitiatory offering to the Virgin, 
 who has succeeded to many more of the dignities and 
 honours formerly enjoyed by the goddess of Love. 
 
 NOTE s, PAGE 106. 
 
 Solemn and slow came hoary Winter forth, 
 Not like the tyrant of the frozen north, &c. 
 
 M The winter in the Ionian Isles and adjacent parts of 
 Greece, according to our acceptation of the word, is 
 never severe. The thermometer is frequently as low as 
 45° and 40° of Fahrenheit, but seldom falls to the 
 freezing point. The winter continues hardly two 
 months, and, during that time, it is an alternation of a 
 few days of cold, with many days of the most delight- 
 ful spring weather. 
 
 " In February begins the spring. Now the modest 
 violet, the hyacinth, the ranunculus, the jonquil, and 
 the rose, display their beauties; and these are followed 
 by others, in succession, throughout the whole year. 
 Even the short winter has its verdure and its flowers. 
 In this month, also, the apricot, the almond, the plum, 
 the peach, and other early fruit trees appear in full blos- 
 som. About the beginning of March the blossoms of 
 
 T 
 
210 
 
 the pear, the apple, and the cherry trees, load the air 
 with their fragrance. At this season we may form an 
 imperfect idea of what the earth must have been before 
 the disobedience of man drew a curse upon it. Every 
 day now ushers in new blessings, and every living 
 creature, from the lark that soars and sings, to the 
 worm that crawls in the dust, rejoice in their existence. 
 When the months of February and March prove favour- 
 able, spring cherries may be gathered in April. May 
 produces the most delicious green figs ; and the corn 
 harvest begins in June. The olive harvest is gathered 
 in November, and citrons, oranges, and lemons may be 
 pulled the whole year round, the blossoms and fruit ap- 
 pearing at the same time upon the same tree." 
 
 Such is the poetical, but correct account, given by 
 Baron Theotoky, of his native island of Corfu ; so that 
 Homer's account of the garden of Alcinous, may be 
 no more than a highly coloured picture of some princely 
 garden of Corcyra, in his own time. 
 
 NOTE t, PAGE 107. 
 
 Raise, raise, fair Hellas ! raise on high thy voice ! &c. 
 
 Rejoice, ye Kappy Gothamites, rejoice ! 
 Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice, &c # 
 
 Churchill. 
 
211 
 
 NOTE u, PAGE 113. 
 
 The poet heard no more, and from his sight 
 The vision vanished in a blaze of light, &c. 
 
 *' And wear thou this," she solemn said, 
 And bound the holly round my head : 
 The polished leaves and berries red 
 
 Did rustling play ; 
 And, like a passing thought, she fled 
 
 In light away. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 NOTE x, PAGE 114. 
 
 Like Winter mingling with the bloom of May, &c. 
 
 Though the island of Ithaca exhibits many marks 
 of the industry of its ancient inhabitants, in modern 
 times, only the valleys, and a few spots, here and there, 
 on the sides of the mountains, which require little la- 
 bour, are cultivated ; and the contrast those little ver- 
 dant fields form with the general barrenness and aridity 
 that surround them, is extremely pleasing to the eye. 
 
 NOTE y, PAGE 115. 
 
 See yonder pile, torn by the teeth of Time, &c. 
 
 To the north-east of the island of Ithaca, on an emi- 
 nence, overlooking the bay of Asphalles, are the ruins 
 of a building, called, by the inhabitants, Homer's 
 
 t 2 
 
212 
 
 School; for Ithaca is one of the numerous places that 
 claim the very high honour of having given birth to the 
 immortal poet. And, certainly, the exactness of his 
 descriptions of it seems to put it beyond a doubt, that, 
 whether born there or not, he must have been person- 
 ally acquainted with its geography before he wrote the 
 Odyssey. He has, with the utmost minuteness, de- 
 scribed places so insignificant, and, in themselves, so 
 little remarkable, that the names of them could not 
 have travelled beyond the island. In fact, nothing but 
 their having been endeared to his mind by early asso- 
 ciations, could have, in my opinion, induced him to 
 mention them at all. His partiality to Ithacus, Nestor, 
 Laertes, the father of Ulysses, the shepherd Eumaeus, 
 and Telemachus, strongly to induce the opinion that he 
 was drawing, under fictitious names, the characters of 
 persons well known to him. The fidelity of his topo- 
 graphical descriptions of such parts of Corfu as he 
 mentions, shew such intimate knowledge of that island, 
 as an inhabitant of Ithaca, from the proximity of the 
 places, might be supposed to possess. 
 
 NOTE z, PAGE 115. 
 
 Yon other ruin crumbling into dust, &c. 
 
 On Mount Aito, a ridge connecting the more ele- 
 vated mountains of Neios and Neritos, in the centre 
 of the island, is shewn the ruins of the castle in which 
 Ulysses is said to have destroyed the suitors* 
 
213 
 
 NOTE a, PAGE 116. 
 The lovely Arethusa, Naiad queen, &c. 
 
 Towards the north-east extremity of the island the 
 soast is very bold and rocky. In one place, in parti- 
 cular, it rises perpendicularly to a considerable height. 
 Over this precipice commences a valley, narrow at the 
 bottom, and widening towards the top, something in 
 the shape of a shoe-horn, or, rather, in that of a bisected 
 trumpet, ascending on a rapid elevation for several hun- 
 dred yards, until terminated by the abrupt rise, to a 
 height of near a hundred feet, of a white rock, the Korax* 
 of Homer. 
 
 In rainy weather a considerable body of water falls 
 over this rock, into the valley below, and foams and 
 boils over an uneven channel, until it comes to the se- 
 cond precipice, over which it shoots with great majesty 
 into the sea. Near the bottom of the valley is seen, in 
 retired loveliness, the fountain Arethusa, which is ap- 
 proached by only one steep and rugged footpath; close 
 to which is shewn, a little below, the site of a bath, 
 surrounded with artificial turf seats. The whole of this 
 romantic valley is overgrown with the most beautiful 
 ever-green shrubbery, such as Mastich, Myrtle, &c. 
 The water of the fountain is confined in front, by a wall, 
 which, with the scooped sides of the rock from which 
 it issues, at the rate of two gallons and a half per 
 minute, forms a basin, of about six feet long, three wide, 
 
 t 3 
 
214 
 
 and two deep. 1 found the names of many travellers 
 scratched on the rock, which is soft lime-stone, 
 
 NOTE b, PAGE 116. 
 
 And Sloth and Apathy their bodies scrape, 
 
 In form of men, with many a gaunt and gape— 
 
 This description was more applicable to the Ionian 
 islanders, under the iniquitous government of the Ve- 
 netians, which took from them all motives to activity 
 and industry, than it is at the present day. The Ve- 
 netians, indeed, introduced as many of their own vices 
 among their Greek subjects as they could. Accustomed 
 to see their rulers set all justice at nought, by evasion 
 and chichanery, the Greeks became deceitful and eva- 
 sive in their turns. Lying, meanness, and duplicity, 
 are, therefore, their principal faults. 
 
 Late tourists and essayists have, however, in addition 
 to these, accused them of a horrible catalogue of 
 other vices ; such as an over-ruling disposition to mur- 
 der and revenge, want of conjugal fidelity, parental 
 and filial affection, and, what I should not expect, above 
 all, cowardice. When such complicated depravity is 
 asserted to pervade a people, overwhelming proofs 
 ought to be adduced in support of the assertion. I am 
 aware that isolated instances of the existence of all 
 those vices may be produced, but to bring them for- 
 ward, with a view of casting an imputation upon a 
 whole people, would be something like quoting the 
 
215 
 
 Newgate Calender as a proof of the general immorality 
 of Englishmen, 
 
 Our writers on the Ionian islands have, correctly 
 enough, described their rural feasts, when the young 
 men and the young women perform the Cretan dance, 
 and converse, without restriction, beneath the spread' 
 ing olives : yet, almost in the same breath, they tell us 
 that marriages of affection never take place ; and that a 
 couple never see each other until their union is decided 
 upon by their relations. Now, if we had been told that 
 the sexes were kept entirely separate before marriage, 
 this might obtain credit; but, to suppose young men 
 and young women, who are freely permitted to dance and 
 converse under the shade, should not fall in love, and 
 surmount all obstacles to come together, is quite absurd. 
 The fact is, that marriages of interest are too common ; 
 but marriages of love are also frequent. How can it be 
 otherwise among Greeks, a people whose passions are as 
 warm and volatile as the sky that covers them is bright 
 and brilliant ? We are again told, of a people, the one 
 third of whose young and middle aged men are always 
 afloat, that a slight breeze terrifies them ! ! And this, in 
 defiance of the well known fact, that the Septinsulars are 
 the best sailors in the Mediterranean. Enough of their 
 characters as soldiers, has been seen to prove it of the 
 highest order ; for we had no finer troops last war than 
 the Greek light infantry, nor braver, as far as could be 
 judged from the few opportunities they had of shewing 
 their courage. The physical qualities of strength, 
 
216 
 
 beauty, and agility, they possess in high perfection ; 
 and their quickness of perception and brilliancy of 
 imagination, give them a mental superiority over most 
 nations. They are hospitable, charitable, and religious ; 
 good sons, good husbands, and good fathers : virtues 
 which they have retained in spite of oppression and 
 bad example. 
 
 Such is the view which an intimate intercourse of five 
 years, with the Septtnsulars, has enabled me to take 
 of their character, which, under the British government, 
 is still rising in the scale of morality. 
 
 The benevolent exertions of Sir Patrick Ross, during 
 his Residency of three years in Santa Maura, effected 
 a great deal towards the amelioration of the character 
 and condition of the people of that island. At his ar- 
 rival in 1816, misery of every description was to be 
 met with in the public streets ; poverty and sickness, 
 pining in filth and rags, were common ; — but at his de- 
 parture for Zante, in 1819, nothing was to be seen but 
 active industry and cheerful faces. 1 admit that all the 
 other islands might not have been equally fortunate in 
 their immediate superintendants, but, still, much im- 
 provement was observable in all, 
 
 NOTE c, PAGE 153. 
 I hear the hills re-echo Scotland's woe — 
 
 Though what is here presaged came terribly to pass 
 in the years 1745 and 1746, there is little doubt but the 
 
217 
 
 government, by a different line of conduct, might have 
 prevented all the miseries and bloodshed that ensued. 
 
 " Mc Donald of Glencoe, haying been one day later 
 than the time prescribed, in making his submission to 
 King William, the earl of Braidalbin, his private enemy, 
 devoted him to destruction. He represented him at 
 court as an incorrigible rebel, and a ruffian inured to 
 bloodshed and rapine, who would never be obedient to 
 the laws of his country, nor live peaceably under any 
 sovereign. He observed that he had paid no regard to 
 the proclamation; and proposed that the government 
 should sacrifice him to the quiet of the kingdom, by ex- 
 tirpating him, with his family and dependents, by 
 military execution. His advice was supported by the 
 suggestions of the other Scottish ministers; and the 
 king, whose chief virtue was not humanity, signed a 
 warrant for the destruction of those unhappy people, 
 though it does not appear that he knew of Mc Donald's 
 submission. An order for this barbarous execution, 
 signed and counter- signed by his majesty's own hand, 
 being transmitted to the master of Stair, secretary for 
 Scotland, he sent particular directions to Livingstone, 
 who commanded the troops in that kingdom, to put 
 the inhabitants of Glencoe to the sword, charging him 
 to take no prisoners, that the scene might be more 
 terrible. In the month of February captain Campbell 
 of Glenlyon, by virtue of an order from major Duncan- 
 son, marched into the valley of Glencoe, with a com- 
 pany of soldiers belonging to Argyle's Highland 
 
218 
 
 regiment, on pretence of levying the arrears of the land- 
 tax and hearth-money. When Mc Donald demanded 
 whether they came as friends or enemies, he answered 
 as friends, and promised upon his honour that neither 
 he nor his people should sustain the least injury. In 
 consequence of this declaration, he and his men were 
 received with the most cordial hospitality, and lived 
 fifteen days with the men of the valley, in all the ap- 
 pearance of the most unreserved friendship. At length 
 the fatal period approached. Mc Donald and Camp- 
 bell having passed the day together, parted about seven 
 in the evening, with mutual expressions of the warmest 
 affection. The younger Mc Donald, perceiving the 
 guards doubled, began to suspect some treachery, and 
 communicated his suspicions to his brother ; but neither 
 he nor the father would harbour the least doubt of 
 Campbells sincerity ; nevertheless the two young men 
 went forth privately to make observations. They over- 
 heard the common soldiers say they liked not the 
 work ; that though they would willingly have fought 
 the Mc Donalds of the Glen fairly in the field, they 
 held it base to murder them in cool blood ; but that 
 their officers were answerable for their treachery. When 
 the youths hasted back to apprize their father of the 
 impending danger, they saw the house already sur- 
 rounded, they heard the discharge of muskets, the 
 shrieks of women and children, and, being destitute of 
 arms, secured their own lives by immediate flight. The 
 savage ministers of vengeance had entered the old 
 
219 
 
 man's chamber, and shot him through the head. He 
 fell down dead in the arms of his wife, who died next 
 day, distracted by the horror of her husband's fate. 
 The Laird of Auchintrincken, Mc Donald's guest, who 
 had three months before this period submitted to the 
 government, and at this very time had a protection in 
 his pocket, was put to death without question ; a boy 
 of eight years, who fell at Campbell's feet, imploring 
 mercy, was stabbed to the heart by one Drummond, a 
 subaltern officer. Eight and thirty persons suffered in 
 this manner, the greatest part of whom were surprised in 
 their beds, and hurried into eternity before they had 
 time to implore the divine mercy. The design was 
 to butcher all the males under seventy that lived 
 in the valley, the number of whom amounted to fewo 
 hundred : but some of the detachments did not arrive 
 in time to secure the passes, so that one hundred and 
 sixty escaped. Campbell, having perpetrated this bru^ 
 tal massacre, ordered all the houses to be burned, made 
 a prey of all the cattle and effects that were found in 
 the valley, and left the helpless women and children, 
 whose fathers and husbands he had murdered, naked 
 and forlorn, without covering, food, or shelter, in the 
 midst of the snow that covered the face of the whole 
 country, at the distance of six long miles from any in- 
 habited place. Distracted with grief and horror, sur^ 
 rounded with the shades of night, shivering with cold, 
 and appalled with the apprehension of immediate death 
 from the swords of those who had sacrificed their 
 
220 
 
 friends and kinsmen, they could not endure such a 
 complication of calamities, but generally perished in 
 the waste before they could receive the least comfort, 
 or assistance. This barbarous massacre, perpetrated 
 under the sanction of king William's authority, though 
 it answered the immediate purpose of the government, 
 by striking terror into the hearts of the Jacobite High- 
 landers, excited the horror of all those who had not 
 renounced every sentinaent of humanity, and produced 
 such an aversion to the government, as all the arts of 
 ministers could never totally surmount." 
 
 Smollett's Hist, of England, 
 Vol. viii. page 437. 
 The desire of the Highlanders to revenge this inhu- 
 man massacre was beginning to abate, when the 
 arbitrary treatment which the Highland Watch * ex- 
 perienced from the ministers of Geo. II, again brought 
 this black page of British history to their recollection, 
 and generated in their minds a rooted hatred to all fo- 
 reign dynasties. The Watch was originally raised from 
 the sons of gentlemen and substantial Highland far- 
 mers, so that almost every family in the country was 
 interested in their fate. They had been enlisted 
 as a local guard, to put a stop to the depredations 
 of the moss-troopers ; but they suffered themselves to 
 be decoyed to England, under false pretences, where 
 they were disarmed and ordered on foreign service. 
 This being a direct infringement of their engagement, 
 
 * Now the 42d Royal Highlander*. 
 
221 
 
 the Highlanders, to the number of 400, put themselves 
 under the conduct of two brothers, iEneas and Andrew 
 Macpherson, both non commissioned officers, and the 
 sons of one of the principal gentlemen of their clan. 
 They then marched for Scotland. A troop of horse 
 was immediately dispatched in pursuit of them, and they 
 were induced, by the promise of a general pardon, to 
 return to their colours. This promise was, however, 
 shamefully violated, and the two brothers tried for mu- 
 tiny and shot. 
 
 THE END. 
 
D. Jaqnes, Printer, Chelsea. 
 
INDEX TO THE SONGS, 
 
 In the Alphabetical Order of the First Line®* 
 
 Bright thy eye, snowy thy neck, ,...., ,,.. 40 
 
 Coining through the silent glen, ......... ,.,,,.... 44 
 
 Fare ye well, ye rising mountains, .....♦,,. ... M# 14 
 
 Friends of my soul, friends of my heart, 27 
 
 I sing of a bonnet, a bonnet so blue, 74 
 
 My peace is fled, I cannot rest, ... 53 
 
 My earliest love was Morag, 63 
 
 Now harmony floats on the voice of the morning, 55 
 
 Now balmy June displays her flowers, 91 
 
 O, dear to the mother the bairn on her knee, 37 
 
 O, long and dreary is the night, ... 22 
 
 O, my love leave me, leave me, leave me, 11 
 
 O, what is lovelier than the beam, 5 
 
 O, why do those heath bells, so fresh and so 
 
 blooming, 46 
 
 See where the evening sun-beams shine, 58 
 
 Sweet the rising mountains, red with heather bells, 8 
 
 The sky is clear unclouded blue, 20 
 
 Though December to others seems bleak and severe, 25 
 
 The balmy breath of blopming May, 30 
 
 The milk-white thorn and the yellow broom ... 34 
 
224 
 
 There lives a lass in yonder glen, ...«•• ,.... 42 
 
 'Twas when the heath put on the bell, ....•, ...... 48 
 
 Will ye go to Aldavallich ? 17 
 
 When Scotia, heavenly maid, was young, 69 
 
 When the sky is clear and blue, . c ... ... 80 
 
 When rosy May embalmed the air, 84 
 
 Will ye gang wi' me, lassie ? 88 
 
 Ye bonnie hills, by yon green wood side ! 51 
 
 Ye storms whose rude blasts have entomb'd in the 
 
 deep, • • 94 
 
 Ye kings, I envy not your fate, „. 96 
 
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