WANN
-1v   -it!L' t  X
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THE
GENTLE   SHEPHEERD.
BY
ALLAN RAMSAY.
WITH A T1IFE OF TtllE AIUTHOR,
AND TiHEI OPINION.S O. Tl VARJIOUl' E3TIVNFT  ENV OV THE WORll.
T() VI-ITCII IS AlDFD D,
A GREATLY IMPROVED GLOSSARY,
AND  A  OATALOGUE  OF  THIE  SCOTTISH  POETS.
Awamjy t ifeare!  Gae spread myfaes,
And fix me an i.mortal name;
Ages to comne shall thee revive,
And gar thee ewith newo honouro   live;
The future critics, Iforecee,
Shall have their?otes G notea ome thee;
The mvits nbontort shall beauties findl
That never entered in ily mnind." 
ALLAN RAMSAY TO M5s Booe0,
"The Gentle Shepherd has exhibited mrsticity without vulgarity, amd elegant sentiment without
affectation. Like the heroes of Homer, the characters of this piece can engage in the humlblest occupation without degradation. Its verses have passed into proverbs, and it continues to be the
delight and solace of the peasantry whom it describes.h"                  W. RoscaE.
NEW YORK:
WILLIAM  GOWANS.
1852.




Entered, according to Act of Ceongoee, in the year 1852,
BY W'ILLIAM GOWANS,
En ths  Cleroks  Office of the District Court of the United Staten for the Southern District
of New York.




C O N T E N T S.
PREFACE,. v
LIFE OF ALLAN RAAMSAY, BY WI1LLIAM TENNANT,  o.  Xi
Remarks on the lWritings of Ramsay, by Wm. Tennant,. xxv
ESSAY ON RAIMSAY'S GENTLE SIIEPHERD, BY LORD WOODHOUSELEE,. XXXi
OPINIONS AND REMARKS ON THE GENTLE SHEPHEIRD, BY
VARIOUS AUTHORS,.O   O                              lxi
John Aikin, LL. D.,..                  ib.
James Beattie, LL.Td, D..                            ib.
William Tytter,..     lxii
Hugh Blair, D. D.,.. lxiii
John Pinkerton, e.... lxiv
Joseph Ritson,.. O   O   O        lxiv
William Roseoe,.O..O  xvi
Thomas Campbell,.... lxvii
Leigh Hunt,... lxviii
Anecdote of Lady Strange,.o..               lxxiii
List of Allan Ramsay's WVorks,....        lxxiv
Dedication to the Countess of Eglintoun, by Ramsay,     i
Dedication to the Countess of Eglintoun, by Wmin. Hamilton, of
Bangour,    o.... iv
]Epistle to Josiah Burchett,....      o        *
THE GENTLE SHEPHERD,....     1
Notes,.....             89
Glossary,.....  95








THE Publisher being desirous to present the American
public with a correct edition of the "GENTLE SHEPHERD,"
considerable pains have been taken to ascertain the best or
standard text.  Fortunately, there were, within reach, several of the best editions, as well as others of inferior character.  A careful examination of these satisfied us, that, the
subscription edition in quarto, printed  for the Author by
Thomas Ruddiman, inl 1728, has higher claims to be considered the standard one, than any other within our knowledge.
For this conclusion, perhaps it might be a sufficient reason
to state, that, it was so considered by Andrew  Foulis, of
Glasgow, who reprinted it in David Allan's celebrated quarto
of 1788, undoubtedly the most sumptuous edition of the
",GENTLE  SH-EPHERD"  ever published.*   From  the wellknown intelligence and proverbial accuracy of the Foulis',
and from the fact that the same house reprinted the 10th
edition of the Pastoral in 1750, (about eight years before the
Author's death,) there can be very little doubt that Andrew
Foulis possessed both the means and the inclination to ascer* The poet Burns writes of it thus:-" I once, and but once, got a
glance of that noble edition of the noblest pastoral in the world; and
dear as it was, I mean dear as to my pocket, I would have bought it;
but I was told that it was printed and engraved for subscribers only."
[Burns to Mr. Cunningham, 3d March, 1793.




Vi                     PREFACE,
tain which was the genuine text, and did so accordingly,
But, besides this, the publishers of the octa-vo of 1798, who
seem to have taken unusual pains to give a correct text, have
adopted the same edition as the standard, and have given a
reprint, still more literal than that of Foulis. Moreo'-er, the
same text has been selected for the very elaborate edition of
1808, in two Tolumes, royal octavo; as well as for the royal
quarto, printed by Ballantyne in the same Scar.  It ic true
the orthography of both these editions of 1808 is altered; that
of the octavo being considerably Anglicised; while that of the
quarto is changed throughout to the mode of spelling adopted
by Burns. The verbal changes, however, are very few.
The text of the editions of 1761, 1800, and 1850, differs, ill
several places, friom that of the editions before-mentioned. A
list of the principal variations, with some further remarkls
will be found in the Notes to the present edition. We have
searched diligently for an explanation of the origin of these
variations, but without success. They may belong either to
the first edition, or, to some one subsequent to 1728. But,
be this as it may, we cannot look upon them as improvements.
Neither have we been able to see any warrant for changes
in orthography, such as those we have alluded to: we have
rather supposed that readers generally, and especially the
admirers of Ramsay, would prefer to see his best poem in
precisely the same dress in which he ushered it into the
world when his poetical powers were in their prime.
In accordance with these views, we have adopted, as the
standard text, the quarto of 1728; of which the present
edition is nearly a literal reprint.  Some obvious typographical errors we have corrected, and a very few  changes in
orthography have been made; all of which, with one exception, are authorized by the editions of 1788 and 1798.  Somewhat greater liberties have been taken with the punctuation,
but in this also, we have been guided by the same editions,
with the aid of the octavo of 1808.
Of the ": SONGS," the 9th, 11th, and 21st, witl the verse




PREFACE.                         vii
at page 57, are the only ones that appear in the quarto of
1728, or in the preceding editions: the remaining eighteen
were added, probably, in 1729. In Foulis' edition of 1788,
these additional songs are excluded from  the body of the
poem; but are given, with the music, at the end.  Every
other edition, that we have seen, contains the whole twentyone songs inserted in their proper places, as in the present
edition.  Another song (of which the last verse occurs at
page 57) was added subsequently, probably after 1750, for
it is not to be found among the other songs belonging to the
" GENTLE SHEPIIERD," published in that year in the " Teatable Miscellany."'   It occurs in the edition of 1761, but it
is not in those of 1788 and 1798.  We have given it complete
in the Notes at page 90.  In a foot-note to the "Life" at
page xviii, will be found a statement, explanatory of the causes
why these additional songs were inserted.  We quite agree
with the writer of that Note, that they mar the beauty of
the poem; and, in this edition, we would have preferred to
follow  the example of David Allan and Foulis in that of
1788; but, it being the opinion- of the Publisher, that the
Pastoral, in such a form, would be generally considered incomplete, they have been inserted in the usual manner.
* We have before us two editions of the "Tea-table Miscellany;"
one in 3 parts or volumes, 9th edition, London, 1733; the other in 4
volumes, 11th edition, London, 1750. Near the end of the second
volume this notice occurs in both editions:- 
"The following SONGS to be sung in their proper Places on the
acting of the Gentle Shepherd, at each the page marked where they
come in."
Then follow the first twenty songs; (Song XXI., which concludes the Pastoral, not being noticed;) at the head of each it is stated
by whom sung, and the page where it " comes in" is given. It would
seem, therefore, that the songs were mainly intended for "the acting;"
and that many copies of the Pastoral were extant without the songs,
to the pages of which these references in the "Miscellany " thus
formed an index or guide.




Viii                  PREFACE.
For these eighteen extra songs we have not had what
we can consider a standard text: they have been printed
from  the edition of 1798, collated with those of 1788 and
1808. We also compared them with those in the "Teatable Miscellany" of 1733, the oldest copy in our possession,
and found no difference of any consequence.
The GLOSSARIES heretofore appended to the "GENTLE
SHEPHERD" have been, usually, reprints of that given by
Rtamsay in the quarto of 1728, which was prepared for his
Poems, complete: that in the edition of 1800 being considerably enlarged.  In the present edition the Glossary has
been restricted chiefly to those words and phrases which
occur in the Pastoral; of which, upwards of a hundred and
fifty have been omitted in every former edition that we have
seen: those are now added, with explanations. The rest of
the Glossary has been carefully examined, and  some corrections made.
In the'6LIrFE of Ramsay, by Tennant," we have made
one or two corrections; and some additions, derived from
various sources, have been inserted. These are distinguished
by being enclosed in brackets.
The elaborate EssAY by Lord Mroodhouselee "on the
Genius and Writings of Allan Ramsay," so far as it refers
to the'.' GENTLE SHEPHERD," we have given complete, excepting a few  quotations in Italian.  To this have been
added, opinions and criticisms on the Pastoral, by various
celebrated authors. Thlese are not entirely confined to expressions of approbation; that of Pinkerton being quite the
reverse, although, as we think, singularly unjust.
The PORTRAIT prefixed to this edition is a careful and
accurate copy of the print given by Cadell and I)avies, in
their edition of 1800; respecting which they make. the
following statement:-"there is prefixed a portrait of the




PREFACE.                             lX
author, which has been finely engraved by Mr. Ryder, from
a drawing which was made by Allan Ramsay, the poet's
son; the original of which is now in the possession of A. F.
Tytler, Esq., of Edinburgh."
Ill order that we may not be charged with negligence,
we subjoin a list of all the editions of the "GENTLE SHEPHrE.D" to which we have had access during the preparation
of the present edition; with a few  slight remarks as to the
character of these editions.
PoErs: —" Printed for the Author at the Miercury, opposite to
Niddry's Wynd;"       1 vol. small 8vo. Edinburgh, 1720-1.
This is, perhaps, the first collected edition. It contains
exactly the same poems (though differently arranged) and
glossary, as the subscription 4to. of 1721. It has the first
scene of the Pastoral, and the 11th Song.
Poans:-'" Printed by Mr. Thomas Ruddiman, for the Author."
2 vols. 4to. Edinburgh, 1721-28.
This is the subscription and, probably, the "best ecdition."  The 1st volume has thefirst scene of the Pastoral,
and the 11th Song: the 2d volume has the Pastoral
complete.
*PoEMs:-M\illar, Rivington, and others; 2 vols. 12mo. London, 1761.
A neat edition, containing exactly the same poems as
that of 1721-28.
~PoEMs:-Phorson; cheap edition;    2 vols. 12mo. Berwick, 1793.
Po:Ims:-Cadell and Davies;           2 vols. 8vo. London, 1800.
This edition is well printed, on good paper: it is commonly called the "best edition;" but, so far as the " Gentie Shepherd" is concerned, it is not so.
PoEMs AND PRovERBS:-Oliver and Co.;
3 vols, 18mo. Edinburgh, no date,
Neat edition, with plates, and music to the Songs in the
"Gentle Shepherd."




K:                     PREFACE.
POEMS AND PROVEBS: —Chapman; 2 vols. 8vo. Philadelphia, 1813.
POEMS:-Fairbairn and Anderson;  1 vol. 24mo. Edinburgh, 1819.
Neat but abridged edition; with Life of Ramsay by WinVm.
Tennant, author of " Anster fair."
*PoEMs: —Fullarton and Co.;        3 vols. 12mo. London, 1850.
A very neat edition: a reprint of that of 1800, with additions; appendix, &c.
Gr,.NTLF, SHEPHERD:-Printed by A. Foulis;    4to. Glasgow, 1788.
An elegant and correct edition, with David Allan's
plates, and the songs set to music.
GENTLE SHIEPHERD:-Geo. Reid and Co.;    8vo. Edinburgh, 1798.
A very accurate edition, with 5 plates.
GENTLE SHEPHERD:-A. Constable and Co., and others: printed
by Abernethy and Walker; 2 vols. roy. 8vo. Edinburgh, 1808.
One of the best editions, with many plates and an elaborate dissertation on the scenery, &c. Understood to have
been edited by Robert Brown, Esq., advocate.
GENTLE SHEPHERD:-W- att and Baillie, Leith: Printed by Jas.
Ballantyne and Co.;           Edinburgh. roy. 4to. 1808,
A good edition, (with copies of David Allan's plates,)
but the orthography much changed.
GENTLE SHEPHEERD:-Griffin and Co.;       32mo. Glasgow, 1828.
In all the above editions, with the exception of those of
1788 and  1798, the orthography  of the  "GENTLE  SHEPHERD" is more or less changed from  that of the original
quarto of 1728.
The editions marked thus (*) follow a different text of
the "GENTLE SHEPHERD" from that of the present edition,
See the' Notes.




THE LIFE
OF
ALLAN RAMSAY.
Born x 686.-Died 1 758.
ALLAN RAMSAY, the restorer of Scottish Poetry, was born
on the 15th day of October, 1686, at Leadhills, in the parish
of Crawfordmoor, in Lanarkshireo His father, John Ramsay,
superintended Lord Hopetoun's lead mines at that place; and
his grandfather, Robert Ramsay, a writer or attorney in Edinburgh, had possessed the same appointment: his great-grandfather, Captain John Ramsay, was the son of Ramsay of
Cockpen inll Mid-Lothian, who was brother of Ramsay of
Dalhousie. His mother, Alice Bower, was daughter of Allan
Bower, a gentleman of Derbyshire, whom Lord Hopetoun had
brought to Scotland to instruct and superintend his miners.
His grandmother, Janet Douglas, was daughter of Douglas of
Muthil. In his lineage, therefore, our Poet had something to
boast of, and, though born to nae lairdsldp, he fails not to congratulate himself on being sprung from the loins of a Douglas.
He did not long enjoy the blessing of paternal care and instruction; for, shortly after his birth, his father died, leaving
the widow and family in a condition rather destitute. His
amother soon after married a Mr. Crichton, a petty landholder
of the same county, by whom she had several children. Under
these unfortunate circumstances, young Allan entered upon thie




Xii                  THE  LIFE  OF
career of life; and, for fourteen years he remained in the house
of his stepfather, with no other education than was supplied
by the school of the parish.  Here, surrounded by wild and
mountainous scenery, and amid an. artless and secluded people,
whose manners and language were of patriarchal simplicity,
his childhood received those pastoral and Arcadian impressions,
which were too lively to be effaced by future habits, however
uncongenial, and of which he in his manhood, amid all the
artificial life of the city,  made so lively and fascinating a
transcription.
Of his progress and -attainments at school, we have no
record.  It does not appear that he read much poetry prior to
his twentieth year; and his emulation, and ambitious thoughts,
of which he says he hald some, seem to have slumbered in inactivity, till they were awakened to unceasing exercise by the
society and the excitements of Edinburgh.
To Edinburgh he was sent in his fifteenth year, when the
felicity of his boyhood had been broken by the death of his
mother.  We have the assurance of undoubted testimony, that
at that early age, when his mind was beginning to search
about for the choice of a profession, his wishes were to be a
painter; a circumstance too little known, and too little noticed
by his biographers, but strongly indicative, in our opinion, of
the aspirations of his youthful disposition.  While yet in the
country, he had been in the practice of amusing himself with
copying such prints as he found in the books of his mother's
house. This early predilection for an art kindred to that
wherein  he afterwards excelled, very likely followed  him
through life, and led him  to devote his son to that favourite
study, from which he himself was so harshly precluded.  For
his stepfather, little consulting the inclination of young Allan,
and wishing as soon as possible, and at any rate, to disencumber himself of the charge of his support, bound this nurs-.ling of the Muses apprentice to a wig-maker. Lowly as this;profession is, it has been vindicated by one of Ramsay's biog-.raphers into comparative dignity, by separating it from  the




ALLAN RAMSAY.                           xii;
kindred business of barber, with which it is vulgarly,  and too
frequently confounded.  Ramsay was never, it seems, a barber;
his enemies never blotted him with that ignominy; his calling
of "6 scull-thacker," as he himself ludicrously terms it, was too
dignified to be let down into an equality with the men of the
razor.
Thus from the beginning his business was with the heads of,men.  We know not on what authority it is asserted by some
of his biographers, that he abandoned this profession on finishing his apprenticeship: he is called wig-maker in the parish
record down to the year 1716; and we suspect he continued so
till the year 1718, or 1719, for in one of Hamlilton's letters to
him, dated 24th of July, 1719, mention is made of his "new
profession."
He was in 1712 induced, as one of his biographers observes,
by the example of other citizens, to enter into the state of marriage.  His wife's name was Christian Ross, daughter of a
writer in Edinburgh, who brought him, year after year, a
numerous family of three sons and five daughters.  Of this
family, Allan, the eldest, and the only son who survived him,
inherited the genius of his father, and, having received a liberal
education, became afterwards conspicuous as a scholar, and a
painter. *
* Allan Ramsay the painter studied his art both at London and
Rome. He was the projector and founder of the Select Society of
Edinburgh in 1754. In 1767 he was appointed portrait painter to his
Majesty. On his return from Italy he died at Dover, on the 10th of
August, 1784, leaving a fortune of ~40,000. He was twice married,
first to Miss Bayne, daughter of Professor Bayne of Edinburgh, and
sister of the late gallant Capt. Bayne of the Navy. She brought him one
daughter, who died young. His second wife was the eldest daughter of
Sir Alexander Lindsay of Evelich, Baronet, by Emilia, daughter of the
Viscount of Stormont, and niece to the great Earl of Mansfield; she was
also the sister of the late Sir David and Sir John Lindsay. She died ill
1782, and left b)y Allan Ramsay two daughters and a son. One of his
~daughters was married to the late General Sir Archibald Campbell,
K. B. of Inverneil in Argyleshire, ndci the other to Colonel Malcolmo




Xiv                   THE LIFE OF
About the year 1711 or 1712 our Poet seems first to have
ventured into the regions of rhyme. The clubs and societies
of Edinburgh had provoked in him this new passion, and his
earliest effort, so far as is known, is an Address, supplicatory
of admission, "' To the most happy members of the Easy Club,"
a production bearing every mark of nmskilfulness and juvenility.  Of this club he was afterwards appointed poet-laureate,
in which capacity he was wont to recite to that jolly fraternity
his successive productions, for their criticisms and their applause.
Many of these poems were published in a detached form at
a penny a-piece, and his name became by this means celebrated
in the city. About the ycar 1716, and ere he relinquished his
avocation of wig-maker, he published an edition of the excellent
old poem of " Christ's Kirk on the Green," with a second canto
by himself.  Having thus associated himself in the walks of
humour with the King of Scotland, he was induced, by the
approbation which he gained, and the rapid sale of the book, to
"keep a little more company with these comical characters,"
and to complete the story, by adding afterwards a third canto.
This attempt was crowned with all the success he anticipated,
and numerous editions of the work afforded him  satisfactory
proof, that, in the public opinion, he had not unworthily put
himself into partnership with the royal humourist.*
Elevated by the distinction his productions had now procured him, and losing at last all-liking to a business which was
His son, John Ramsay, has attained the rank of Lieutenant-General in
the army.
Of our Poet's daughters only two survived him; Christian, who died
about the year 1800, and Janet, who died in New-street, Canongate,
Edinburgh, on the 14th of January, 1804.' A passage in one of those modern cantos of Ramsay's, describing
a husband fascinated homewards from a scene of drunkenness by the
gentle persuasions of his wife, has been tastefully selected by Wilkie,
and been made the subject of his admirable pencil.
Hogarth dedicated to Ramsay, in 1726, his twelve plates of Hudibras.




ALLAN RAAMSAY.                       XV
at utter variance with his ambition and darling amusements;
he commenced bookseller, most probably in the year 1718,
when he was in the thirty-second year of his age. This was
a trade at once more congenial to his habits, and more likely to
be lucrative, on account of his being already recommended by
his authorship to the buyers of books. His first shop as a bookseller was in the High-street opposite to Niddry's-wynd, with
the figure of Mercury for his sign. From this shop proceeded,
in 17 21, a collection of his various poems in one quarto volume,
published by subscription, which contained every eminent name
in Scotland. It was thus advertised in the Edinburgh Evening
Courant: " The poems of Allan Ramsay, in a large quarto
volume, fairly printed, with notes, and a complete glossary (as
promised to the subscribers), being now finished; all who have
generously contributed to carrying on of the design, may call
for their copies as soon as they please, from the author, at the
Mercury, opposite to Niddry's-wynd, Edinburgh."
From the sale of this volume he realized 400 guineas, which
was in those days a very considerable profit on a book of Scottish poetry. In 1722 he gave to the world his Fables and Tales;
in the same year his tale of The Three Bonnets; and in 1724
his poem on Health.  In January, 1724, he published the first
volume of the Tea-table Miscellany, being a collection of Scottish and English songs; this volume was speedily followed by
a second; [in 1727] by a third; [and some years afterwards by
a fourth; all] under the same title.  Hamilton of Bangour, and
Mallet, assisted him by their lyrical contributions. Encouraged
by the popularity of these books, he published, in October,
1724, the Evergreen, "a collection of Scots poems written by
the ingenious before 1600." For the duties of an editor of such
a work, it is generally agreed that Ramsay was not well fitted.
For, neither had he a complete knowledge of the ancient Scottish language, nor was his literary conscience sufficiently tender
and scrupulous to that fidelity, which is required by the office
of editor. He abridged, he varied, modernized, and superadded.
In that collection first. appeared under a feigned signature his




'xvi                  THE  LIFE  OF
Vision, a poem, full of genius, and rich with Jacobitism, but disguising the author and his principles under the thin concealment of antique orthography.
At length appeared in 1725 his master-work, the Gentle
Shepherd, of which two scenes had been previously printed,
[the first] in 1721, under the title of Patie and Roger, and [the
second] in 1723, under that of Jenny and Meggy.  [In the
quarto of 1721, there is likewise to be found (Sang XI.) the
dialogue song between Patie and Peggy, afterwards introduced
into the second act.]  The reputation he had obtained by these
detached scenes, and the admonitions of his friends, who perceived how easily and how  happily they could be connected,
induced hin to re-model and embody them  into a regular pastoral drama.  Its success corresponded to his own hopes, and to
his friends' anticipations. [In the following letter, (published
for the first time by R. Chambers in his Scottish Biographical
Dictionary, 1835,) it will be seen that he was engaged on this
task in spring, 1724.
ALLAN RAMSAY to WILLIAMI RAMISAY, of TEMPLEIM[ALL, Esq.
" Edinburgh, April 8th, 1724.
"Sir,-These come to bear you my very heartyest and grateful iwishes.
May you long enjoy your Marlefield, see many a returning spring pregnant with new beautys; may everything that's excellent in its kind
continue to fill your extended soul with pleasure. Rejoyce in the
beneficence of heaven, and let all about ye rejoyce-whilst we, alake,
the laborious insects of a smoaky city, hurry about from place to place
in one eternal maze of fatiguing cares, to secure this day our daylie
bread-and something till't. For me, I have almost forgot how springs
gush from the earth. Once, I had a notion how fragrant the fields
were after a soft shower; and often, time out of mind! the glowing
blushes of the morning have fired my breast with raptures. Then it
was that the mixture of rural music echo'd agreeable from the surrounding hills, and all nature appear'd in gayety.
"However, what is wanting to me of rural sweets I endearour to
make up by being continually at the acting of some new farce, for I'm
grown, I know not how, so very wise, or at- least think so (which is
much about one), that the mob of mankind afford m.e a continual divers
sion; and this place, tho' little, is crowded with inerry-andrews, fools,




ALLAN RAM SAY.                       XVii
and fops, of all sizes, [who] intermix'd with a few that can think, compose the comical medley of actors.
"Receive a sang made on the marriage of my young chief. —I am,
this vacation, going through with a Dramatick Pastoral, which I design
to carry the length of five acts, in verse a' the gate, and if I succeed
according to my plan, I hope to tope* with the authors of Pastor
Fido and Aminta.
"God take care of you and yours, is the constant prayer of, sir,
your faithful humble servant,
"' ALLAN RAMSAY."]
A second edition followed next year, and numerous impressions spread his fame, not only through Scotland, but through
the united kingdom, and the colonies.  His name became
known, principally through this drama, to the wits of Enlgland,
and Pope took delight in reading his pastoral, the obscurer
phraseology of which was interpreted to him  by Gay, who,
during his residence in Scotland, had been careful to instruct
himself in its dialect, that he might act as interpreter to the
poet of Twickenham.
In  1726 our Poet, now  a thriving bookseller. removed
from his original dwelling at the Mercury opposite Niddry'swynd, to a shop in the east end of the Luckenbooths, which
was afterwards occupied by the late Mr. Creech, (whose Fugitive Pieces are well known), and, after his death, by his
successor Mr. Fairbairn.  With his shop he changed his sign,
and leaving Mercury, under the protection of whose witty
godship he had so flourished, he set up the friendly heads of
Ben Jonson and Drummond of Hawthornden.  Here he sold
books, and established a circulating library, the first institution
of that kind, not only in Scotland, but we believe in Great
Britain.t  The situation being near the Cross, and commanding a full view of the High-street, his shop became the resort
of all the wits of the city; and here Gay, who is described
by Mr. Tytler, as 6"a little pleasant-looking man, with a tye* Cope.
t To this library Mr. Sibbald succeeded, who greatly augmented it.
It is now (1819) in possession of Mr. Mackay, High-street.




XVlll                 THE  LIFE  OF
wig," used to look out upon the population of Edinburgh,
while Ramsay pointed out to him  the principal characters as
they passed.  Of this house no vestiges now remain, for as
the beauty and magnificence of the High-street had been
long disfigured by the cumbrous and gloomy buildings called
the Luckenbooths, they were, a few  years ago, completely
removed, and the street cleared of that misplaced mass of
deformity.
In 1728 he printed in quarto a second volume, containing,
[his portrait by Simibert, and,] with other poems, a Masque
on the Marriage of the l)uke of Hamilton, one of his most
ingenious productions; [also the Gentle Shepherd, complete.*]
Of this quarto an octavo edition followed next year; and so
extended was now the circle of his reputation, and so universal
the demand for his poenms, that the London booksellers published an edition of his Works in 1731, and two years after
an edition also appeared at Dublin.  His collection of thirty
Fables appeared in 1730, when he was in his 45th year, after
4 ["Soon after the first edition, in octavo, of this pastoral Vas
published, and about the time of the publication of his second volume
in quarto, the' Beggar's Opera' made its appearance, with such success that it soon produced a great number of other pieces upon the
same musical plan. Amongst the rest, Ramsay, who had always been
a great admirer of Gay, especially for his ballads, was so far carried
away by the current as to print a new edition of his pastoral, interspersed with songs adapted to the common Scotch tunes. Ie did not
reflect at the time that the'Beggar's Opera' was only meant as a piece
of ironical satire; whereas his' Gentle Shepherd' was a simple imitation of nature, and neither a mimickry nor mockery of any other performance. He was soon, however, sensible of his error, and would
have been glad to have retracted those songs; but it was too late; the
public was already in possession of them, and as the number of singers
is always greater than that of sound critics, the many editions since
printed of that pastoral have been almost uniformly in this vitiated
taste.  He comforted himself, however, with the thought that the
contagion had not infected his second volume in quarto, where the'Gentle Shepherd' is still to be found in its original purity."
(General Biographical Dictionary, Yol. XXVI.]




ALLAN RAMISAY.                        Xi
which period the public received nothing from his pen.  "I
e'en gave o'er in good time," he says, in his letter to Smibert,
" ere the coolness of fancy attending advanced years made me
risk the reputation I had acquired."
[The following letter was first published in the Scots MagE
azine, August, 1784: we give it verbatim et literatim.
ALLAN RAMISAY to MR. JOHN SMBIEnRT)i in BOSTON, Nr3EW ENGLAND.
"Edinburgh, Maay 10, 1736.
"My dear old friend, your health and happiness are ever ane addition to my satisfaction. God make your life ever easy and pleasanthalf a century of years have now row'd o'er my pow; yes, row'd o'er
my pow, that begins now to be lyart; yet, thanks to my Author, I eat,
drink, and sleep as sound as I did twenty years syne; yes, I laugh
heartily too, and find as many subjects to employ that faculty upon as
ever: fools, fops, and knaves, grow as rank as formerly; yet here and
there are to be found good and worthy men, who are an honour to
human life. We have small hopes of seeing you again in our old
world; then let us be virtuous, and hope to meet in heaven.-  My
good auld wife is still my bedfellow: my son, Allan, has been pursuing
your science since he was a dozen years auld-was with Mr. Ilyssing,
at London, for some time, about two years ago; has been since at
home, painting here like a Raphael —sets out for the seat of the
Beast, beyond the Alps, within a month hence-to be away about two
years. —I'm  sweert to part with him, but canna stem the current
which flows from the advice of his patrons and his own inclinations.I have three daughters, one of seventeen, one of sixteen, one of twelve
years old, and no waly-dragle- among them, all fine girls. These six
or seven years past, I have not wrote a line of poetry; I e'en gave
o'er in good time, before the coolness of fancy that attends advanced
years should make me risk the reputation I had acquired.
* [John Smibert, who drew his first breath in the Grass-Market of
Edinburgh, was the son of a dyer, and bred a coach painter: but travelling into Italy for instruction, he painted portraits, on his return, at
London, till he was induced, by the fascination of Bishop Berkeley, to
emigrate with him to Bermuda, anld thence to New England. Smibert
was born in 1684 and died at Boston, in 1751.
(Life of Rarnsay by George Chalmers, in Works, Edition of 1800.]
1- ITnwilling.               + A feeble ill-grown person.




XX                   THE LIFE OF
"Frae twenty-five to five-and-forty,
My Muse was nowther sweer* nor dorty;
My Pegasus wad break his tether,
E'en at the shakkingt of a feather,
And through ideas scour like drift,
Streaking4. his wings up to the lift:
Then, then my saul was in a low,
That gart my numbers safely row;
But eild and judgment'gin to say,
Let be your sangs, and learn to pray.
" I am, sir, your friend and servant,
"ALLAN RAMSAY."]
He now therefore intermeddled no longer with the anxieties
of authorship, but sat down in the easy chair of his celebrity
to enjoy his laurels and his profits.  After a lapse of six 5years
of silence, and of happiness, his ardour for dramatic exhibitions
involved him in some circumstances of perplexity, attended, it
is believed, with pecuniary loss. As Edinburgh possessed as
yet no fixed place for the exhibition of the drama, he endeavoured to supply that deficiency to the citizens, by building at
his own expense a theatre in Carrubber's-close.  Shortly after,
the Act for licensing the stage was passed, which at once
blasted all his hopes of pleasure and advantage; for, the Magistrates availing themselves of the power entrusted to them
by the Act, shewed no indulgence to the author of the Gentle
Shepherd, but, in the true spirit of that puritanism  which
reckons as ungodly all jollity of heart, and relaxation of countenance, they shut up his theatre, leaving the citizens without
exhilaration, and our poet without redress.  This was not all;
he was assailed with the satirical mockery of his laughterhating enemies, who turned against him his own weapons of
poetical raillery.  Pamphlets appeared, entitled, "The flight
of religious piety from Scotland, upon the account of Ramnsay's lewd books, and the hell-bred playhouse comedians, who
Unwilling.        t Shaking.         $ Stretching.




ALLAN  RAMSAYY.                    Xxi
debauch all the faculties of the soul of our rising generation;" —
"A looking-glass for Allan Ramsay;" —" The dying words of'Allan Ramsay."  These maligners, in the bitterness of their
sanctimonious resentments, reproached him with "having acquired wealth," with "possessing a fine house,"-with "having raised his kin to high degree;" all which vilifications must
have carried along with them some secret and sweet consolations into the bosom  of our bard.  Amid the perplexities
caused by the suppression of his theatre, he applied by a
poetical petition to his friend the Honourable Duncan Forbes,
then Lord President of the Court of Session, in order that he
might obtain some compensation for his expenses; but with
what success is not recorded by any of his biographers.
His theatrical adventure being thus unexpectedly crushed,
he devoted himself to the duties of his shop, and the education
of his children. He sent in 1736 his son Allan to Rome, there
to study that art by which he rose to such eminence. In the
year 1743 he lost his nwife, who was buried on the 28th of
March in the cemetery of the Greyfriars. He built, probably
about this time, a whimsical house of an octagon form, on the
north side of the Castle-hill, where his residence is still known
by the name of Ramsay-Garden.  [The site of this house was
selected with the taste of a poet and the judgment of a painter.
It commanded a reach of scenery probably not surpassed in
Europe, extending from the mouth of the Forth on the east to
the Grampians on the west, and stretching far across the green
hills of Fife to the north; emlbracing in the including space
every variety of beauty, of elegance, and of grandeur.*] This
house he deemed a paragon of architectural invention.  He
shewed it with exultation to the late Lord Elibank, telling his
Lordship at the same time, that the wags of the town likened
it to a "goose-pye:. "Indeed, Allan," replied his Lordship,
"now that I see you in it, I think it is well named."
Having for several years before his death retired from business, he gave himself up in this fantastical dwelling to the
* Chambers' Scottish Biographic.al Dictionary.




XXii                 THE  LIFE  OF
varied amusements of reading, conversation, and the cultivation
of his garden. Being now  "loose frae care and strife," he
enjoyed, in the calmness and happiness of a philosophical old
age, all the fruits of his mlany and well rewarded labours. A
considerable part of every summer was spent in the country
with his friends, of whom he had many, distinguished both for
talents and rank. The chief of these were, Sir Alexander Dick
of Prestonfield, and Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, one of the
Barons of Exchequer, a gentleman who united taste to scholarship, and had patronized and befriended Ramsay from the
beginning. This amiable gentleman died in 1756, a loss which
must have been severely felt by our Poet, and which he himself
did not long survive. He had been afflicted for some time with
a scorbutic complaint in his gums, which after depriving him
of his teeth, and consuming part of the jaw-bone, at last put an
end to his sufferings and his existence on the 7th of January,
1758, in the 72d year of his age. He was interred in the
cemetery of Greyfiiars' church on the 9th of that month, and
in the record of mortality he is simply called, " Allan Ramsay, Poet, who died of old age."
Of his person, Ramsay has given us a minute and pleasant
description. He was about five feet four inches high,
"A blackavic'd* snodt dapper fallow,
Nor lean, nor overlaid with tallow."
He is described by those who knew him towards the latter
part of his life, as a squat man, with a belly rather portly, and
a countenance full of smiles and good humour.  He wore a.
round goodly wig rather short. His disposition may be easily
collected from his writings. He possessed that happy Horatian
temperament of mind, that forbids, for its own ease, all entrance
to the painful and irascible passions. He was a man rather
of pleasantry and laughter, than of resentment and moody
malignancy. His enemies, of whom he had some, he did lnot. Of a dark complexion.           t Neat.




ALLAN  RAMSAY.                    Xxiii
deem so important as on their account to ruffle his peace of
mind, by indulging any reciprocal hostility, by which they
would have been flattered. He was kind, benevolent, cheerful;
possessing, like Burns, great susceptibility for social joys, but
regulating his indulgences more by prudence, and less impetuous and ungovernable than the impassioned poet of Ayrshire. By his genius he elevated himself to the notice of all
those of his countrymen who possessed either rank or talents;
but these attentions proceeded spontaneously from their admiration of his talents, and were not courted by any servilities
or unworthy adulations. Never drawn from business by the
seductions of the bowl, or the invitations of the great, he consulted his own respect, and the comfort of his family, by
attending to the duties of his shop, which so faithfully and
liberally rewarded him. His vanity (that constitutional failing
of all bards) is apparent in many of his writings, but it is
seasoned with playfulness and good humour. He considered,
indeed, that "pride in poets is nae sin," and on one occasion
jocularly challenges superiority in the temple of Fame, even
to Peter the Great of Russia, by saying, "But baud, proud
Czar, I wadna niffer' fame."-He is called by Mr. William
Tytler, who enjoyed his familiarity, "an honest man, and of
great pleasantry."
Of learning he had but little, yet he understood Horace
faintly in the original; a congenial author, with whom he
seems to have been much delighted, and in the perusal of
whose writings he was assisted by Ruddiman.  TIe read
French, but knew nothing of Greek. He did not, however,
like Burns, make an appearance of vilifying that learning
of which he was so small a partaker; he bewailed his
"own little knowledge of it;" and, like the Ayrshire bard,
he was sufficiently ostentatious and pedantic in the display
of what little he possessed.
He composed his verses with little effort or labour; his
*Exchange.




Xxiv                THE  LIFE,  ETC.
poetry seems to have evaporated lightly and airily from  the
surface of a mind always jocose and at its ease.  And as it
iiqhtly came, he was wont to say, so it liqhitly twent; for
after composition, he dismissed it from  his mind without
further care or anxiety.
In 1759 an elegant obelisk was erected to the memory
of Ramsay, by Sir James Clerk, at his family-seat of Pennycuik, containing the following inscription:
Allano Ramsay, Poetae egregio,
Qui Fatis concessit VII. Jan. MD CCLVIII.
Amico paterno et suo,
Monumentum  inscribi jussit
0. Jacobus Clerk.
Anno MDCCLIX.
At Woodhouselee, near the [supposed] scene of the Gentle
Shepherd,* a rustic temple was dedicated, by the late learned
and accomplished Lord lW'oodhouselee, with the Inscription
ALLANO RAMSAY, et Genio Loci.
* [" According to Mr. Tytler, this supposition is founded in error;
and the estate of New Hall in the parish of Pennycuik, was to a
certainty the legitimate parent of the pastoral. This fact has been
since farther confirmed, in a dissertations from the elegant pen of
Sir David Rae, Lord Justice-Clerk; a descendant of Sir David Forbes,
proprietor of New Hall, and contemporary of Ramsay. Even without such respectable evidence, however, we would inevitably be led
to the same conclusion, by the poet's well known acquaintance with
the natural beauties of the landscape at New Hall, where he was a
constant and welcome visitor; and because within the boundaries of
that fine estate, there is actually to be found all the peculiar scenery,
so graphically and beautifully described in the drama."
(Gentle Shepherd, edition of 1828.),r John Sinclair's Statistical account of Scotland; Vol. XVIL, appendix. ]




REMARKS ON THE WRITINGS OF ALLAN RAMSAY.
BY W. TENNANT.
OF Ramsay's Poems, the largest, and that on which his
fame chiefly rests, is his Gentle S/heplerd. Though some of
his smaller poems contain passages of greater smartness, yet
its more general interest as a whole, and the uniformity of
talent visible in its scenes, render it one of the finest specimens of his genius.  We have no hesitation in asserting,
that it is one of the best pastoral dramas in the wide circle
of European literature; an excellent production in a department of writing in which the English language has as yet
nothing to boast of. While other modern tongues have been
enriching themselves with pastoral, the English, copious in
all other kinds, continues, in this, barren and deficient.  No
English production, therefore, can enter into competition with
the Gentle Shepherd. We must look to the south of Europe
for similar and rival productions, with which it can be compared. The shepherd plays of Tasso, and Guarini, and 13onarelli, contain more invention, and splendour, and variety
of incident and of dialogue, than our Scottish drama; but
they have also more conceit and flimsiness of sentiment,
more artifice of language, more unnatural and discordant
contrivance of fable.  In its plot, the Gentle Shepherd is
simple and natural, founded on a story whose circumstances,
if they did not really happen, are at least far within the
compass of verisimilitude.  Its development is completed by
means interesting but probable, without the intervention of
gods, or satyrs, or oracles, or such heathenish and preposterous machinery.  The characters of the Gentle Shepherd
are all fiamed by the hand of one evidently well acquainted
with rural life and manners. They are not the puling, sickly,
and unimpressive phantoms that people the bowers of Italian
D




XXvi             REM ARKS ON THE
pastoral; they are lively, stirring creatures, bearing in their
countenances the hardy lineaments of the country, and expressing themselves with a plainness, and downright sincerity, with which every mind sympathizes.  They are rustics,
it is true, but they are polished, not only by their proximity
to the metropolis, but by the influence of the principal shepherd, who, besides the gentility of blood that operates in
his veins,
-- also reads and speaks,
With them that kens them, Latin words and Greeks.
The situations in which the persons are placed are so ingeniously devised, as to draw  forth from  their bosoms all
those feelings and passions which accompany the shepherd
life, and which are described with a happiness and a simplicity, the truer to nature, on account of its being removed
from  that over-wrought outrageousness of passion which we
sometimes think is the fault of modern writing.  The tenderness of correspondent affections,-the hesitation and anxiety
of a timid lover,-the mutual bliss on the mutual discovery
of long concealed attachment,-the uneasiness of jealousy,
with the humorous and condignl punishment of its evil devices,-the fidelity of the shepherd notwithstanding his elevation to an unexpected rank,-the general happiness that
crowns, and winds up the whole, are all impressively and
vividly delineated.
With regard to its sentiments, the Gentle Shepherd has
nothing to be ashamed of; though in a very few  places
coarse, the thoughts are nowhere impure; they have somewhat of the purity of Gesner, with rather more vivacity and
vigour.  There is no affectation; every character thinks as
country people generally do, artlessly, and according to nature.
With regard to its language, we know not whether to say
much, or to say little.  Much has been already said, to redeem from  the charge of vulgarity a language once courtly
and dignified, but now associated with meanness of thought,




WRITINGS OF ALLAN RAMSAY. XXVii
and rudeness of manners.  We do not think it necessary,
however, to stand up in defence of a dialect which has, since
the days of Ramsay, been ennobled by the poems of Burns,
and is eternized more lately in the tales of that mighty
genius, who sits on the summit of Northern Literature, and
flashes forth from behind his cloud his lvivid and his fiery productions.  Illn the use of this dialect, Ramsay is extremely
fortunate; for Scottish shepherds he could have employed
none other; and he wields his weapon with a dexterity which
we do not think has been since exceeded.  Out of his own
familiar language, he is indeed heavy and wearisome; English armour is too cumbrous for him; he cannot move iln
it with grace and activity.  We find, accordingly, that in
his Gentle Shepherd the most nluskilful passages are in English, without beauty or energy; whereas his Scottish has
in it a felicity which has rendered it popular with all ranks,
and caused his verses to pass with proverbial currency among
the peasants of his native country.
Next in value to his Gentle Shepherd, we think, are his
imitations of Horace.  To this good-humoured author Ramsay
had, from  congeniality of mind, a strong predilection; and
he in some places has fully equalled, if not surpassed, his
prototype in happy hits of expression. Pope himself is not
so fortunate. Take for instance,
Daring and unco stout he was,
With heart hool'd in three slotughs. of brass,
Wha ventur'd first on the rough sea,
With hempen branks,t and horse qf tree.
Again,
Be sure ye dinna quat the grip
O' ilka joy when ye are young,
Before auld age your vitals nip,
And lay ye twafald o'er a rung.+
* Coats.        t A sort of bridle.. A stout staff.




Xxviii            REMARKS ON THE
In his Vision there is more grandeur, and a nearer approach to sublimity than in any other of his poems.  He is
indeed, here, superior to himself, and comes nearer to the
strength and splendour of Dunbar, whose antiquated style
he copied.  The 5th stanza may be a specimen.
Grit* daring dartit frae his ee,
A braid-sword schogledt at his thie,+
On his left arm a targe;
A shinnandS speir filld his richt hand,
Of stalwartll mak, in bane and brawnd,
Of just proportions large;
A various rainbow-colourt plaid
Owre~q his left spawl** he threw,
Doun his braid back, frae his quhytett heid,
The silver wymplersi.+ grew.
His Tales and Fables, a species of writing which he himself deemed as "casten for his share,"  display great ease
and readiness of versification, with much comic vivacity.  The
best of these are the 1Twa Cats and the Ciheese; the Lure,
in which the Falconer's "foregathering with auld Symmie"
is excellently described; and the 1lonk and the M3iller's  ViYfe,
for the story of which he is indebted to Dunbar.  As a song
writer we are not inclined to give  Ramsay a verly high
place.  His mind had not those deep and energetic workings
of feeling that fitted Burns so admirably for this difficult
species of writing.  He is stiff, where passion is required;
and is most easy, as usual, where he is comic.  Several of
his songs yet retain their popularity; but even of these none
are without some faults.  We prefer the Highland Laddic,
Gie me a Lass wi' a Lump o' Land, The Carle he came o'er
the Craft, The Lass of Patie's Mill and Jenny Nettles.
* Great.              { Shining        ** Shoulder.
t- Dangled.           II Strong.       tt White.
+ Thigh.              ~ Over.         4+ Waving locks of hair.




WRITINGS OF ALLAN RAMSAY. XXiX
His Christ's  7irko is no mean effort of his muse; the
idea of continuing King James's production was good, and
he has executed it happily.  Ramsay's humoure  must, however, be acknowledged to be inferior to the pure, strong,
irresistible merriment that shines even through the dim and
nearly obsolete language of his royal master.  In the Third
Canto, the morning, with its effect on the crapulous assemblage, is well painted.
YowfrJae east nook o' Fife the dawn
Speel'd* westlins up the lift,
Caries wha heard the cock had crawn
Begoud, &c.
An' greedy wives, wi' girning thrawn,
Cry'd lasses up to thrift;
Dogs barked, an' the lads frae hand
Bang'dt to their breeks,++ like drift,
Be break o' day
Of a character similar to the first two lines of the above
stanza, are the following other passages of Ramsay's works,
which remind us a little of the Italian poets;Now Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks
Upon his nichering coosers'~ backs,
To gar them tak th' Olymnpiani brae,
Wi' a cart-lade o' bleezing day.
Tale of the Three Bonnets.
And ere the sun, though he be dry,
Has driven down the westlin sky,
To drink his wamefu' o' the sea.
Fables and Tales.
Soon as the clear goodman o' day
Does bend his morning draught o' dew.
Fables and Tales.
* Climbed.  t Started up from bed.  + Breeches.  ~ Stallions.




XXX                REMARKS, ETC.
To sum  up our opinion of Ramsay's merits as a poethe was fortunate, and he deserved well, inll being the first to
redeem  the Muse of Scotland from wasting her strength in
a dead language, which, since the cldays of Buchanan, had
been the freezing vehicle of her exertions.   He re-established the popularity of a dialect, which, since the removal
of the Scottish Court, had received no honour from the pen
of genius, but which, near two hundred years before, had
been  sublimed  into poetical dignity by Dunbar and  the
bards of that age. To Ramsay, and to his treasures of Scottish phraseology, succeeding poets have been much indebted;
he knew the language well, and had imbibed the facetious
and colloquial spirit of its idioms.  Ramsay, therefore, when
he employs his beloved dialect, manages it masterly, and,
though never lofty, he is always at his case: Burns, in his
highest flights, soared out of it. The genius of the first was
pleasing, placid, versatile, inll quest rather of knacks, and
felicities of expression, than originating bold and masculine
thoughts: The g'etius of the latter was richer, more original,
more impressive, and formidable, but less equal, and less.
careful of the niceties and tricks of phraseology.  The tone
of Ramsay's mind was good-humoured composure, and facile
pleasantry; of Burns's, intensity of feeling, tenderness, and
daring elevation approaching to sublimity. Of Burns's superiority no man is doubtful; but Ramsay's merits will not be
forgotten; and the names of both will be forever cherished
by the lovers of Scottish poetry.
_-.4 1 —Q.0 — - ---




ESSAY
ON
RAMSAY'S GENTLE SHEPHERD.
BY LORD WOODHOUSELIEE.
As the writings of Allan Ramseay have now  stood the
test of the public judgment, during more than seventy
years;* and, in the opinion of the best critics, he seems to
bid fair to maintain his station among our poets, it may be
no unpleasing, nor uninstructive employment, to examine the
grounds, on which that judgment is founded; to ascertain
the rank, which he holds in the scale of merit; and to state
the reasons, that may be given, for assigning him that distinguished place among the original poets of his country, to
which I conceive he is entitled.
The genius of Ramsay was original; and the powers of
his untutored mind were the gift of nature, fieely exercising
itself within the sphere of its own observation.  Born in a
wild country, and accustomed to the society of its rustic inhabitants, the poet's talents found their first exercise in
observing the varied aspects of the mountains, rivers, and
vallies; and the no less varied, though simple manners, of
* Written in 1800.




XXXii           ESSAY ON RAMSAY S
the rude people, with whom  he con-versed.  He viewed the
former with the enthusiasm  which, in early childhood, is
the inseparable attendant of genius; and on the latter he
remarked, with that sagacity of discriminating observation,
which instructed the future moralist, and gavse the original
intimations to the contemporary satirist.  With this predisposition of mind, it is natural to imagine, that the education,
which he certainly received, opened to him  such sources of
instruction  as English  literature  could furnish; and  his
kindred talents directed his reading chiefly to such of the
poets as occasion threw in hLis way.
Inheriting that ardour of feeling, which is generally accompanied with strong sentiments of moral excellence, and
keenly awake even to those slighter deviations from  propriety, which constitute the foibles of human conduct, he
learned, as it were from  intuition, the glowing language,
which is best fitted for the scourge of vice; as well as the
biting ridicule, which is the most suitable corrective of gross
impropriety, without deviating into personal lampoon.
A consciousness of his own talents induced CRaimsacy to
aspire beyond the situation of a mere mechanic; and the
early notice, which his first poetical productions procured
him, was a natural motive for the experiment of a more
liberal profession, which connected him  easily -with those
men of wit, who admired, and patronised him.  As a bookseller, he had access to a more respectable class in society.
WTe may discern, in the general tenor of his compositions, a
respectful demeanour towards the great, and the rich, which,
though it never descends to adulation or servility, and generally seeks for an apology in some better endowments than
mere birth or fortune, is yet a sensible mark, that these
circumstances had a strong influence on his mind.
As he extended the sphere of his acquaintancej we may
presume, that his knowledge of men, and acquaintance with
manners, were enlarged; and, in his latter compositions, we
may discern a sufficient intelligence of those general topics,




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                    XXXlii
which engaged the public attention.  The habits of polite
life, and the subjects of fashionable conversation, were become
familiar, at this time, to the citizens of Edinburgh, from the
periodical papers of Acddison and Steele; and the wits of
Bcalfour's Coffee-house, Forrester, Falconer, Bennet, Clerk,
JHamilton of Bangour, Preston, and Crautwfurd,* were a miniature of the society, which was to be met with at TYill's
and Button's.
The political principles of Ramsesay were those of an old
Scotsman, proud of his country, delighted to call to mind
its ancient honours, while it held the rank of a distinct
kingdom, and attached  to  the succession  of its ancient
princes.  Of similar sentiments, at that time, were many of
the Scotish gentry.  The chief friends of the poet were
probably men, whose sentiments on those subjects agreed
with his own; and the Easy Club, of which he was an
original member, consisted of youths who were anti-unionists.
Yet, among the patrons of Rcamsay, were some men of rank,
who were actuated by very different principles, and whose
official situation would have made it improper for them,
openly, to countenance a poet, whose opinions were obnoxious to the rulers of his country.  Of this he was aware;
and putting a just value on the friendship of those distinguished persons, he learnt to be cautious in the expression
of any opinions, -which might risk the forfeiture of their
esteem: hence he is known to have suppressed some of his
earlier productions, which had appeared only in manuscript;
and others, which prudence forbad him to publish, were
ushered into the world without his name, and even with
false signatures.  Among the former was a poem  to the
memory of the justly celebrated D)r. Pitcairne, which was
printed by the Easy Club, but never published; and among
* To the last three of these we owe the words of some of the best
of the Scotish songs, which are to be found in the collection published
by Ramsay, called TVie Tea-table Miscellany.




XXXiV           ESSAY ON RAMSAY'7S
the latter, is The Vision, which he printed in the Ecergreen,
wvith the signature of AR. SCOT.*
In Ram.say's Vision, the author, in order to aid the deception, has made use of a more antiquated  phraseology,
than that, which we find in his other Scotish poems: but,
it evidently appears from  this attempt, and from  the two
cantos, which he added to King Jfames the First's ludicrous
satire of Christ's Kirk on the Green, that Ramsay was not
much  skilled in  the ancient Scotish  dialect.  Indeed the
Glossary, which he annexed to the two quarto  volumes of
his poems, wherein are many erroneous interpretations, is
of itself sufficient proof of this assertion.  In compiling the
Glossary of his Evergreen, Lord Hailes has remarked, that
he does not seem ever to have consulted the Glossary to
Douglas's Virgil; "and yet they who have not consulted it,
cannot acquire a competent knowledge of the ancient Scotish
dialect, unless by infinite and ungrateful labour."t   A part
of this labour undoubtedly may be ascribed to Ramsay, when
he selected and transcribed, from the Bannatyne manuscript,
* See Observations on The Vision, by William  Tytler, Esq., of
Woodhouselee, in the first volume of the Transactions of Scotish Antiquaries; where that poem, and The Eagle and Robin Redbreast,
are proved to be both written by Allan Ramsay.
t I am convinced, however, from a comparison of many of Ramsay's interpretations, both in the Glossary to the Evergreen, printed in
1724, and in that, which is subjoined to his Poems, with the interpretations given by Ruddiman in the Glossary to G. Douglas's  irygil,
that Ramsay had made frequent use of the latter for the explanation
of the most antiquated words; though he does not seem to have studied
it with that care, which his duty as an editor of ancient Scotish poetry
certainly required.  In proof of this, his obligations to Ruddiman's
Glossary, the reader has only to compare, with the interpretations in
that work, the following, given by Ramsay in the Glossary to his
Poems: Bodin, Brankan, Camschough, Dern, Douks, Dynles, Elritch,
Elttle, Frec, Gousty, 3i~oup, Pawky, WYithershins; and the following, in the Glossary to the Evergreen: Crawdon, Galziart, Ithandly,
Ourefret, luse, Schent, &c.




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                   XXXV
those ancient poems, which chiefly compose the two volumes
of his Ercergreen: and hence, it is probable, he derived the
most of what he knew of the older dialect of his country.
His own stock was nothing else than the oral language of
the farmers of the Lothians, and the common talk of the
citizens of Edinburgh, to which his ears were constantly
accustomed.  A Scotsman, in the age of Ramsay, generally
wrote in English; that is, he imitated the style of the English writers; but. when he spoke, he used the language of
his country. The sole peculiarity of the style of Ramsay is,
that he transferred the oral language to his writings.  He
could write, as some of his compositions evince, in a style
which may be properly termed English verse; but he wrote
with more ease in the Scotish dialect, and he preferred it, as
judging, not unreasonably, that it conferred a kind of Doric
simplicity, which, when he wished to paint with fidelity the
manners of his countrymen, and the peculiarities of the
lower orders, was extremely suitable to such subjects.
From these considerations, one cannot but wonder at the
observation, which is sometimes made even by Scotsmen of
good taste, that the language of I'Thle Gentle Shepherd disgusts from  its vulgarity.  It is true, that in the present
day, the Scotish dialect is heard only in the mouths of the
lowest of the populace, in whom it is generally associated
with vulgarity of sentiment; but those critics should recollect, that it was the language of the Scotish people, which
was to be imitated, and that too of the people upwards of
a century ago, if we carry our mind back to the epoch of
the scene.
If Ranmsay had made the shepherds of the Lowlands of
Scotland, in the middle of the seventeenth century, speak
correct English, how preposterous would have been such a
composition! But, with perfect propriety, he gave them the
language which belonged to them; and if the sentiments of
the speakers be not reproachable with unnecessary vulgarity,
we cannot with justice associate vulgarism with a dialect,




Xxxvi           ESSAY ON RANISAY'S
which in itself is proper, and in its application is characteristic.  After all, what is the language of Ramsay, but
the common speech of Yorkshire during the last century?
But, as associated ideas arise only w-here the connection
is either in itself necessary, or the relation is so intimate,
the two ideas are seldom  found disunited; so of late years,
that disunion has taken place in a twofold manner; for the
language, even of the common people of Scotland, is gradually refining, and coming nearer to the English standard;
and it has fortunately happened, that the Sotish dialect
has lately been employed in comnpositions of transcendant
merit, which have not only exhibited the finest strokes of
the pathetic, but have attained even to a high pitch of the
sublime.  For the truth of this observation, we mall   appeal
to Vlye Cottar's Saturday Night, and  T'he Vision of Butrzns.
In these, the language, so far from  convey3ing the idea of
vulgarity, appears most eminently suited to the sentiment,
which seems to derive, from its simplicity, additional tenderness, and superior elevation.
The Scots, and the English, languages are, indeed, nothing  more  than  different dialects  of  the  same  radical
tongue, namely, the Anglo-Saxon; and, setting  prejudice
apart, (which every preference, arising from  such  associations, as we have mentioned, must be,) it would not perhaps
be difficult, on a fair investigation of the actual merits of
both the dialects, to assert the superior advantages of the
Scotish to the English, for many species of original composition.  But a discussion of this kind would lead too far;
and it is but incidentally connecte(dwith the proper subject
of these recmarks.t  It is enough to say, that the merits
a See " A Yorkshire Dialogue in its pure natural dialect;" printed
at York, 1684.
t A learned writer has published, in the Transactions of the Society
of Scotish Antiquaries, a Dissertation on the Scoto-Saxon Dialect; of
which, as the work is not in every body's hands, the reader may not be
displeased with a short account.  The author maintains this propo



GENTLE SHEPHERD.                           XXXViI
of those very compositions, on  which  we are now  to  offer
some  remarks, are of themselves  a  sufficient demonstration
of  the  powers of  that  language  in  which, chiefly, they
sition; that the Scoto-Saxon dialect was, at the time of the union of
the two nations, equal in every respect, and in some respects superior,
to the Anglo-Saxon dialect.  He lays it down as a principle, that three
things constitute the perfection, or rather the relative superiority, of a
language: richness, energy, and harmony.  He observes, that a language is rich in proportion to the copiousness of its vocal)ulary, which
will principally depend, 1. on the number of its primitive or radical
words; 2. on the multiplicity of its derivations and compounds; and,
3. on the variety of its inflections.  In all, or almost all of these respects, he shews the superiority of the Scotish dialect of the Saxon to
the English.  The Scots have all the English primitives, and many
hundreds besides. The Scots have derivatives from  dimninution, which
the English entirely want: e. g. hat, hatty, hatti/t/; lctss, lssi, issie,  y.
The degrees of diminution are almost unlimited: swife, ewi:e, wifiky,
~ee  wijllcy, swee wee wcfiky, &c.  Both the English, and Scots, dialects
are poor in the inflections; but the Glossary to Douglas's Virgil will
shew that the Scotish inflections are both more various, and less anomalous, than the English.  Energy is the boast both of the English,
and the Scotish, dialects; but, in this author's opinion, the Scotish
poetry can furnish some compositions of far superior energy to any
cotemporary English production.  WVith respect to harmony, he gives
his suffrage likewise in favour of the Scotish dialect.  He observes,
that the sh rarely occurs; its place being supplied by the simple s, as
in polis, punis, sal, &c. The s itself is often supplied by the liquids sm
or as; as in expremle, dep2reme; cornpone, depone.  Harsh colbinations
of consonants are avoided: as in using sel, tswal, negle/, tenmp, stowne. or
stauwn, for self, twelve, aze/lect, tempt, stolen.  Even the vowel sounds
are, in this author's opinion, more harmonious, in the Scots, than in
the English, dialect; as the open a, and the proper Italic sound of i.
For further elucidation of this curious subject, the Dissertation itself
must be referred to, which will abundantly gratify the critical reader.
It is proper here to observe, that the remarks of this writer are the
more worthy of attention, that he is himself an excellent Scotish poet,
as the compositions subjoined to his Dissertation clearly evince. Tliree
Scotish Poems, swith a previous Dissertation oen the Scoto-Saxon, Dialect,
by the Rev. Alexasnder Geddes, LL.D., Transactions of the'Society of
Antigqaries of' Scotla.ad, vol. i., p. 402.




xxxviii         ESSAY  ON  RAMSAY' S
are  composed, for many, if not for all the purposes of
poetry.
(Remnarks on Rnamsay's miscellaneous poems are here omnitted.)
In the year 1725, Rzamsay published his pastoral comedy
of'Lhe Gentle,Shepherd, the noblest and most permanent
monument of his fame.  A few years before, he had published, in a single sheet, A  Pastoral Dialogue between Patie
and -Roger, which was reprinted in the first collection of his
poems, in 1721.  This composition being much admired, his
literary friends urged him to extend his plan to a regular
drama: and to this fortunate suggestion the literary world
is indebted for one of the most perfect pastoral poems that
has ever appeared.'
The pastoral drama is an invention of the moderns. The
first who attempted this species of poetry was Agostino de
Beccari, in his Sacrficio F'avola Pastorale, printed in 1553.
Tasso is supposed to have taken the hint from him; and is
allowed, in his A.minita, published in 1573, to have far surpassed his master.   Guarini followed, whose Pastor PFido
contends for the palm with the A.minta, and, in the general
opinion of the Italians, is judged to have obtained it.  Ta!sso
himself is said to have confessed the superior merit of his
rival's work; but to have added, in his own defence, that
had Gtuarini never seen his Aminta, he never would have
surpassed it.  Yet, I think, there is little doubt, that this
preference  is ill-founded.   Both  these  compositions have
resplendent beauties, with glaring defects and improprieties.
I am, however, much mistaken, if the latter are not more
abundant in the Pastor Fidlo, as the former are predominant
in the Atminta.  Both will ever be admired, for beauty of' In the quarto of 1728, the following note is subjoined to the first
scene of the Gentle Shepherd:-" This first scene is the only piece in
this volume that was printed in the first: having carried the pastoral
the length of five acts, at the desire of some persons of distinction, I
was obliged to print this preluding scene with the rest."




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                    XXX1X
poetical expression, for rich imagery, and for detached sentiments of equal delicacy and tenderness: but the fable, both
of the Aminta, and Pastor Pido, errs against all probability;
and the general language and sentiments of the characters
are utterly remote from  nature.  The fable of the Amninta
is not dramatic; for it is such, that the principal incidents,
on which the plot turns, are incapable of representation:
the beautiful Silcia, stripped naked, and bound by her hair
to a tree by a brutal satyr, and released by her lover
Amyntas;-her flight firom  the wolves; —the precipitation
of An4yntas fiom a high rock, who narrowly escapes being
dashed in pieces, by having his fall broken by the stump
of a tree; —are all incidents, incapable of being represented
to the eye; and must therefore be thrown into narration.
The whole of the last act is narrative, and is taken up
entirely with the history of Amlyntas's fall, and the happy
change produced in the heart of the rigorous Silvia, when
she found her lover thus miraculously preserved from  the
cruel death, to which her barbarity had prompted him  to
expose himself.
Yet, the fable of the Aminta, unnatural and undramatic,
as it is, has the merit of simplicity.  That of the Pastor
Fido, equally unnatural and incredible, has the additional
demerit of being complicated as well as absurd.  The distress of Amyntas, arising from  an adequate and natural
cause-rejected love, excites our sympathy; but the distress
in the Pastor 2Fido is altogether chimerical; we have no
sympathy with the calamities arising from  the indignation
of Diana, or the supposed necessity of accomplishing the
absurd and whimsical response of an oracle.  We cannot
be affected by the passions of fictitious beings.  The love
of a satyr has nothing in it but what is odious and disgusting.
The defects of these celebrated poems have arisen from
the erroneous idea entertained by their authors, that the
province of this species of poetry was not to imitate nature,




xl              ESSAY ON RAMSAY'S
but to paint that chimerical state of society, which is termed
the golden age.   lI~r. Addison, who, in the Guardian, has
treated the subject of pastoral poetry at considerable length,
has drawn his critical rules from that absurd principle; for
he lays it down as a maxim, that, to form  a right judgnent of pastoral poetry, it is necessary to cast back our
eyes on the first ages of the world, and inquire into the
manners of ien,  "before  they  were  formed  into  large
societies, cities built, or commerce established: a state," says
he, "of ease, innocence, and contentment; wshere  plenty
begot pleasure, and  pleasure  begot singing, and  singing
begot poetry, and poetry begot singing again:" a description this, which is so fantastical, as would almost persuade
us, that the writer meant to ridicule his own doctrine, if
the general strain of his criticism  did not convince us it
was seriously delivered.  Is it necessary to prove, that this
notion of pastoral poetry, however founded, in the practice
of celebrated writers, has no foundation in fact, no basis in
reason, nor conformity to good sense?  To a just taste, and
unadulterated feelings, the natural beauties of the country,
the simple manners, rustic occupations, and rural enjoyments
of its inhabitants, brought into view by the medium  of a
well-contrived dramatic fable, must afford a much  higher
degree of pleasure, than any chimerical fiction, in which
Arcadian nymphs and swains hold intercourse with Pan and
his attendant fauns and satyrs.  if the position be disputed,
let  the  Gentle  Shepherd  be  fairly  compared  with  the
Amzinta, and, Pastor iFido.
The story of the Gentle Sheplherd is fitted to excite the
warmest interest, because  the  situations, into  which  the
characters are thrown, are strongly affecting, whilst they are
strictly consonant to nature and probability.  The whole of
the fable is authorized by the circumstances of the times, in
which the action of the piece is laid.  The tera of Cromwell's usurpation, when  many  loyal subjects, sharing  the
misfortunes of their exiled sovereign, were stripped of their




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                        xli
estates, and then left to the neglect and desolation of forfeiture; the necessity under which those unhappy sufferers
often lay, of leaving their infant progeny under the charge
of some humble but attached dependant, till better days
should dawn upon their fortunes; the criminal advantages
taken by false friends in usurping the rights of the sufferers, and securing themselves against future question by
deeds of guilt; these circumstances, too well founded in
truth, and nature, are sufficient to account for every particular in this most interesting drama, and give it perfect
verisimilitude.
The fables of the Amihn~ta and Pastor PFido, drawn from
a state of society which never had an existence, are, for
that reason, incapable of exciting any high degree of interest; and the mind cannot for a moment remain under
the influence of that deception, which it is the great purpose
of the drama to produce.
The characters or persons of the Italian pastorals are coy
nymphs and swains, whose sole occupation is hunting wild
beasts, brutal satyrs who plot against the chastity of those
nymphs, shepherds deriving their origin  fromn  the  gods,
stupid priests of these gods who are the dupes of their
ambiguous will, and gods themselves disguised like shepherds, and influencing the conduct and issue of the piece.
The manners of these unnatural and fictitious beings are
proper to their ideal character.  A dull moralizing chorus
is found necessary to explain what the characters themselves
must have left untold, or unintelligible.
The persons of the Scotish pastoral are the actual inhabitants of the country where the scene is laid; their manners
are drawn from nature with a faithful pencil.  The contrast
of the different characters is happily imagined, and supported with  consummate skill.  Patfe, of a cheerful and
sanguine temperament; spirited, yet free from vain ambition;
contented with his humble lot; endowed by nature with a
superior understanding, and feeling in himself those internal




xlii            ESSAY  ON  RAMSAY'S
sources of satisfaction, which are independent of the adventitious circumstances of rank and fortune.  Rogqer, of a grave
and phlegmatic constitution; of kind affections, but of that
ordinary turn of mind, which is apt to suppose some necessary  connection  between  the  possession  of wealth  and
felicity.   The former, from   native  dignity  of character,
assuming a bold pre-eminence, and acting  the part of a
tutor and counsellor to his friend, who bends, though with
some reluctance, to the authority of a nobler mind.  The
principal female characters are contrasted with similar skill,
and  equal power of discrimination..Pegy, beautiful in
person. as in mind, endowed with  every quality that can
adorn the character of woman; gentle, tender-hearted, constant in  affection, free from  vanity  as from  caprice; of
excellent understanding; judging of others by the criterion
of her own innocent mind, and therefore forming the most
amiable views of human nature.  Jennzy, sensible and affectionate, sprightly and satirical; possessing the ordinary
qualities of her sex, self-love, simulation, and the passion
of conquest; and pleased with exercising a capricious dominion over the mind of a lover; judging of mankind rather
from  the cold maxims of instilled prudential caution, than
firom  the native suggestions of the heart.-A  contrast of
characters strongly  and  skilfully  opposed, and  therefore
each  most admirably fitted  to  bring  the other into full
display.
The subordinate persons of the drama are drawn with
equal skill and fidelity to  their prototypes.   Gland and
iS?/nzon are the genuine pictures of the old Scotish -yeomanry, the Lothian farmers of the last age, in their manlners, sentiments, and modes of life; humble, but respectable;
homely, yet comfortable.  The episode of Bauld//, while it
gives a pleasing variety, without interrupting the principal
action, serves to introduce a character of a different species,
as a foil to the honest and simple worth of the former.  It
paints in strong colours, and. exposes to merited reproba



GENTLEi SHEPHERD.                       xliii
tion and contempt, that low  and sordid mind, which seeks
alone the gratification of its own desires, though purchased
by the misery of the object of its affection.  Bauldy congratulates himself on the cruel disappointment of Peggy's
love; —"I hlope  e'll a' sleel) sound, but ane, this night;"
and judges her present situation of deep distress to be the
most favourable moment for preferring his own suit.  His
punishment, as it is suitable to his demerits, gives entire
satisfaction.
The Aminta, and Pastor Fido, abound in beautifiul sentiments, and passages of the most tender and natural simplicity; but it is seldom  we find a single page, in which
this pleasing impression is not effaced by some affected and
forced conceit.  Nothing can be more delicately beautiful,
or more agreeable to the true simplicity of pastoral, than
Armyntas's recounting to Tircis the rise of his passion for
Silvia.   The description  of their joint occupations  and
sports, till love insensibly arose in the breast of Tircis;
the natural and innocent device he employed to obtain a
kiss from  Silcia; the discovery of his affection, and his despair on finding her heart insensible to his passion, are
proofs that l'asso  was a true poet, and knew  [how] to
touch those strings, with which our genuine feelings must
ever harmonize.' In  elegant and  just description  he is
equally to be admired.  The  scene in  which  Tireis describes the lovely Silcia bound naked to a tree by a brutal
satyr, and released by Amiyntas, whose passion she treated
with scorn, is one of the most beautiful pieces of poetic
painting.   But, when  Alnyntas, unloosing  his disdainful
mistress, addresses himself to the tree, to which she was
tied; when he declares its rugged trunk to be unworthy
of the bonds of that beautiful hair, which encircled it, and
reproaches its cruelty in tearing and disfiguring those
charming tresses, we laugh at such despicable conceits, and
lament that vicious taste, to which even a true poet found
himself (we presume against his better judgment) so often




xliv             ESSAY ON RAMSAY'S
compelled to sacrifice.  So likewise when, forgetting nature,
he resorts to the ordinary cant of pastoral, the language
and thoughts of Theocrfitus and TVirgil, and even superadds
to those common-places, the false refinement, which in his
age  delighted his countrymen, we turn with dissatisfaction
from  his page.  If we compare him, where the similarity
of the subject allows a comparison, with the Scotish poet,
how poor does the Italian appear in the competition!
Thus, let the first scene of the Anminta, between Silvia
and Daphne, be compared with the scene between Jenny and
Peggy, in the Gentle Sheplherd.  The subject of both is the
preference between a single and a married life:
DAPHNE.
But whence can spring thy hate?
SILYIA.
Whence? from his love.
DAPHNE.
Too cruel offspring of so kind a sire!
When was it heard that e'er the tender lamb
Produced a tiger, or the rook a swan?Sure you deceive yourself, or jest with me.
SILIIA.
How can I choose but hate his love,'Which hates my chastity?
DAPHNE.
Now tell me, should another thus address thee,
Would'st thou in such harsh kind receive his love?
SILVIA.
In such harsh kind I ever would receive
The traitor who would steal my virgin jewel.
Whom you term lover I account a foe.
DAPHNE.
Thus to the ewe the ram
Thou deem'st a foe; or to the tender heifer,




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                         xlv
The sturdy bull; the turtle to its mate.
Thus the delightful spring
Seems in thy mind the season of fell hate,
And deadly enmity; the lovely spring
That smiling prompts to universal love,
That rouses nature's flame thro' all her bounds:
Nor less in animals of every kind,
Than favour'd man. See how creation glows,
In all her works, with love's imperious flame!
Mark yonder doves that bill, and sport, and kiss:
Hear'st thou the nightingale, as on the bough
She evermore repeats, " I love, I love:"
The wily snake sheaths her envenom'd fang,
And sinuous glides her to her glossy mate:
The savage tiger feels the potent flame:
The grim majestic lion growls his love
To the resounding forest.-Wilder thou
Than nature's wildest race, spurn'st at that power
To which all nature bows. —But why of these,
Of the grim lion, or the spotted lynx,
Or wily serpent?-these have sense and feeling.
Even trees inanimate confess the god:
See how the vine clings with a fond embrace;
The mountain fir, the pine, the elm, the beech,
Have each their favour'd mate: they burn, they sigh, &c.
S ILVIA.
Well, when my ear shall hear their sighs of love,
Perhaps I too may learn to love like them.
By a similar strain of argument, Linco, in the Pastor
Fido, endeavours to persuade &ilvio to love, whose sole delight is in the chase, and who tells his adviser, that he
would not give one wild beast, taken by his dog Alfelaipo,
for a thousand beautiful nymphs.  Linco bids him  "See
how all nature loves, the heavens, the earth, the sea; and
that beautiful morning star that now shines so bright, she
likewise loves, and shines more splendid from  her amorous
flame: see how she blushes, for now perhaps she has just
left the stolen embraces of her lover.  The woods, and all




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                             xlvii
When a' they ettle at-their greatest wish,
Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss?
Can there be toil in tenting day and night,
The like of them, when love makes care delight P?*
JENNY.
But poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a',
Gif o'er your heads ill chance shou'd beggary draw:
Your nowt may die —the spate may bear away
Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay.The thick blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows,
May smoor your wathers, and may rot your ews. &c.
IEOG G~Y.
May sic ill luck befa' that silly she,
~Wha has sic fears; for that was never me.
Let fowk bode well, and strive to do their best;
Nae mair's requir'd, let Heaven make out the rest.
I've heard my honest uncle aften say,
That lads shou'd a' for wives that's vertuous pray:
For the maist thrifty man cou'd never get
A well stor'd room, unless his wife wad let:
Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part,
To gather wealth to raise my Shepherd's heart.
What e'er he wins, I'll guide with canny care,
And win the vogue, at market, tron, or fair,
For halesome, clean, cheap and sufficient ware.
A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some woo,
Shall first be sald, to pay the laird his due;
* When the sentiments are drawn from nature, it is not surprising
that, where the subject is similar, there should be a concurrence
of thought between two genuine poets, who never saw each other's
works.  How similar is the following passage of the 10th satire of
Boileau to the imagery of this beautiful family picture!
Qtelle joie en effet, quelle douceur extreme
De se voir caresser d' une epouse qu'on aime;De voir autoar de soi croitre dans Ia mnaison,
Sous ]es paisibles loix d' une agraable mere
De petits citoyens dont on croit itre pere!
Quel charme au moindre mal qui nous vient menacer
De la voir aussitot accourir, s' empresser, &c.




xlviii           ESSAY ON RAMSAY~'S
Syne a' behind's our ain.-Thus, without fear,
With love and rowth we thro' the warld will steer:
And when my Pate in balrns and gear grows rife,
He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife.
J ENNY'.
But what if some young giglit on the green,
With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een,
Shou'd gar your Patie think his haff-worn Meg,
And her kend kisses, hardly worth a feg?
PE GGY.
Nae mair of that; —Dear Jenny, to be free,
There's some men constanter in love than we:
Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind
Has blest them with solidity of mind.
They'll reason calmly, and with kindness smile,
When our short passions wad our peace beguile.
Sae, whensoe'er they slight their maiks at hame,'Tis ten to ane the wives are maist to blame.
Then I'll employ with pleasure a' my art,
To keep him chearfu', and secure his heart.
At even, when he comes weary frae the hill,
I'll have a' things made ready to his will.
In winter, when he toils thro' wind and rain,
A bleezing ingle, and a clean hearth-stane.
And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff,
The seething pot's be ready to take aff.
Clean hagabag I'll spread upon his board,
And serve him with the best we can afford.
Good-humour and white bigonets shall be
Guards to my face, to keep his love for me.
Act 1, Scene 2.
Such are the sentiments of nature; nor is the language,
in which they are conveyed, inadequate to their force and
tenderness: for to those who understand the Scotish dialect,
the expression will be found to be as beautiful as the
thought.  It is in  those touches of simple nature, those
artless descriptions, of which  the heart instantly feels the




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                        xlix
force, thus confessing their consonance to truth, that Ramsay excels all the pastoral poets that ever wrote.
Thus Patie to Peggy, assuring her of the constancy of
his affection:
I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear;
Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year.
I mind it well, when thou cou'cd'st hardly gang,
Or lisp out words, I choos'd ye ftae the thrang
Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hland,
Aft to the Tansy-know, or Rashy-strand.
Thou smiling by my side,-I took delite,
To pu' the rashes green, with roots sae white,
Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd,
For thee I plet the flowry belt and snood.
Act 2, Scene 4.
Let this be contrasted with its corresponding sentiment in
the Pastor Fdlo, when Jlfirtillo thus pleads the constancy
of his affection for Amaryllis:
Sooner thanq change my mind, my darling tl/ought,
Oh macy my life be changed into death!
(and mark the pledge of this assurance)
For cruel tho', tho' merciless she be,
Yet my whole life is wrapt in Amaryllis;
Nor can the human frame, I think, contain
A double heart at once, a double soul!
Pastor Fido, Act 3, Scene 6.
The charm  of the Gentle Sheph7erd arises equally fiom  the
nature of the passions, which are there delineated, and the
engaging simplicity and truth, with which their effects are
described.  The poet paints an  honourable  and  virtuous
affection between a youthful pair of the most amiable character; a passion indulged on each side from  the purest and
most disinterested motives, surmouinting the severest of all




ESSAY ON IRtAMSAY~S
trials-the  unexpectecd  elevation  of the  lover to  a rank
which, according to the maxims of the world, would preclude
the possibility -of union; and crowned at length by the delightful and most unlooked for discovery, that this union is
not only equal as to the condition  of the parties, but is an
act of retributive  justice.  In  the anxious suspense, that
precedes this discovery, the conflict of generous passions in
the breasts of the two lovers is drawn with  consummate
art, and gives rise to a scene of the utmost tenderness, and
the most pathetic interest.  Cold indeed must be that heart,
and dead to the finest sensibilities of our nature, which can
read  without emotion  the  interview  between  Pcatie  and
-Peggy, after the discovery of Patie's elevated  birth, which
the following lines describe:
PATIEo.
--  y Peggy, why in tears I
Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears;
The' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine,
I dare not think sae high: I now repine
At the unhappy chalce, that made not me
A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.
Wha can, withoutten pain, see frae the coast
The ship that bears his all like to be lost 
Like to be carry'd, by some rever's hand,
Far frae his wishes, to some distant land.?
PATIE.
Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains,
To raise thee up, or still attened these plains.
My father has forbid our loves, I own:
But love's superior to a parent's frown.
I falshood hate: Come, kiss thy cares away;
I ken to love, as well as to obey.
Sir William's generous; leave the task to me,
To make Strict duty and true love agree.




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                            1l
PEGGY.
Speak on — speak ever thus, and still my grief;
But short I dare to hope the fond relief.
New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire,
That with nice air swiIns round in silk attire:
Then I, poor me!-with sighs may ban my fate,
When the young laird's nae mair my heartsome Pate:
Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest,
By the blyth shepherd that excell'd the rest:
Nae mair be envy'd by the tattling gang,
When Patie kiss'd me, when I danc'd or sang:
Nae mair, alake! we'll on the meadow play!
And rin haff breathless round the rucks of hay;
As aftimes I have fled from thee right fain,
And fawn on purpose, that I might be tane.
Nae mair around the Foggy-know I'll creep,
To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep.
But hear my vow-'twill help to give me ease;
3May sudden death, or deadly sair disease,
And warst of ills attend my wretched life,
If e'er to ane but you, I be a wife,
PATIE.
Sure Heaven approves-anld be assur'd of me,
I'll ne'er gang back of what I've sworn to thee:
And time, tho' time mann interpose a while,
And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle;
Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face,
If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place.
I'd hate my rising fortune, &c.
With similar fervent assurances of the constancy of his affece
tion, Patie  prevails in  calming  the  agitation  of Peggy's
mind, and banishing her fears.   She declares she will patiently await the happy period of his return, soothing the
long interval with  prayers for his welfare, and  sedulous
endeavours to improve and accomplish  her mind, that she
may be the more worthy of his affection.  The scene concludes with an effusion of her heart in a sentiment of inimitable tenderness and beauty:




I1              ESSAY ON RAMSAY'S
With every setting day, and rising morn,
I'll kneel to Heaven, and ask thy safe return.
Under that tree, and on the Suckler Brae,
Where aft we wont, when bairns, to run and play;
And to the Hissel-shaw where first ye vow'd
Ye wad be mine, and I as eithly trow'd,
I'll aften gang, and tell the trees and flowers,
~With joy, that they'll bear witness I am yours.
Act 4, Scene 2.
To a passion at once so pure, so delicate, so fervent, and so
disinterested  in  its object, with  what propriety  may  we
apply that beautiful apostrophe of Burns, in  his  Cottar's
Saturday Nlight'
O happy love! where love like this is found;
0 heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
In intimate knowledge of human  nature Ramsay yields
to few poets either of ancient or of modern times.  How
naturally does poor Roger conjecture the insensibility of his
mistress to his passion, from  the following simple, but finelyimagined circumstances:
My Ba-wty is a cur I dearly like,
Even while he famw'd, she strak the poor dumb tyke:
If I had fill'd a nook within her breast,
She wad have shawn mair kindness to my beast.
When I begin to tune my stock and horn,
With a' her face she shaws a caulrife scorn.
Last night I play'd, ye never heard sic spite,
O'er Bogie was the spring, and her delyte;
Yet tauntingly she at her cousin speer'd,
Gif she cou'd tell what tune I play'd, and sneer'd.
Act 1, Scene 1.




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                           liii
The counsel, which  Patie gives his friend, to prove with
certainty the state of Jenny's affections, is the result of a
profound acquaintance with the humanl heart:
Daft govwk! leave off that silly whindging way;
Seem careless, there's my hand ye'll win the day.
Hear how I serv'd my lass I love as well
As ye do Jenny, and with heart as leel.
Then follows a picture so natural, and at the same time so
exquisitely beautiful, that there is nothing in antiquity that
can parallel it:
Last morning I was gay and early out,
Upon a dike I lean'd, glowring about,
I saw my Meg come linkan o'er the lee;
I saw my Meg, but Meggy saw na me:
For yet the sun was wading thro' the mist,
And she was doss upon me ere she wist;
Her coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw
Her straight bare legs that whiter were than snaw;
Her cockernony snooded up fou sleek,
Her haffet-locks hang waving on her cheek;
Her cheek sae ruddy, and her een sace clear;
And O! her mouth's like ony hinny pear.
Neat, neat she was, in bustine waste-coat clean,
As she came skiffing o'er the. dewy green.
Blythsome, I cry'd, My bonny Mleg, come here,
I ferly wherefore ye're sae soon asteer;
But I can guess, ye're gawn to gather dew:
She scour'd awa, and said, IWhat's that to you?
Then fare ye well, Meg Dorts, and e'en's ye like,
I careless cry'd, and lap in o'er the dike.
I trow, when that she saw, within a crack,
She came with a right thievless errand back;
Mlisca'd me first,-then bade me hound my dog
To wear up three waff ews stray'd on the bog.
I leugh, and sae did she; then with great haste
I clasp'd my arms about her neck and waste;
About her yielding waste, and took a fouth,
Of sweetest kisses frae her glowing mouth.
as 




liv            ESSAY  ON  RAMSAY'S
While hard and fast I held her in my grips,
My very Saul came lowping to my lips.
Sair, sair she flet wi' me'tween ilka smack;
But well I kent she meant nae as she spake.
Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom,
Do ye sae too, and never fash your thumb.
Seem to forsake her, soon she'll change her mood;
Gae woo anither, and she'll gang clean wood.
Act 1, Scene 1.
If, at times, we discern in the Aminta the proofs of a
knowledge of the human heart, and the simple and genuine
language of nature, our emotions of pleasure are soon
checked by some fiivolous stroke of refinement, or some cold
conceit. In the Pastor Fido, the latter impression is entirely predominant, and we are seldom  gratified with any
thing like a natural or simple sentiment.  The character of
Silvio, utterly insensible to  the  charms of beauty or of
female excellence, and who repays an ardent passion with
insolence and hatred, if it exists at all in nature, is fitted
only to excite contempt and detestation.  Dorinda's courtship of Silvio is equally nauseous, and the stratagem  she
employs to gain his love is alike unnatural.  She steals and
hides his favourite dog lMelamnpo, and then throwing herself
in his way while he is whooping after him  through the
forest, tells him she has found both the dog and a wounded
doe, and claims her reward for the discovery. "What shall
that be?" says Silvio. —" Only," replies the nymph, "one
of those things that your mother so often gives you.""6What," says he, "a box o' the ear?"-" Nay, nay, but,"
says Dorinda, "does she never give thee a kissP?"-" She
neither kisses me, nor wants that others should kiss me."The dog is produced, and Silvio asks, "Where is the doe?"
-" That poor doe," says she, "am  I."   A petulance which,
though rudely, we cannot say is unjustly punished, by Silvio
giving a thousand kisses to his dear dog, and leaving the
forward  nymph, with a flat assurance of his hatred, to




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                          1V
ruminate on his scorn, and her own indelicacy.  If this is
nature, it is at least not In, belle nature.
But the circumstance, on which turns the conversion of
the obdurate Silvio, bids defiance even to possibility.  Hunting in the forest, he holds a long discourse with an echo,
and is half persuaded, by the reflected sounds of his own
voice, that there is some real pleasure in love, and that he
himself must one day  yield  to  its  influence.   Dorinda
clothes herself in the skin of a wolf, and is shot by him
with an arrow, mistaking her for that animal.  Then all at
once he becomes her most passionate lover, sucks out the
barb of the arrow with a plaister of green herbs, and swears
to marry her on her recovery, which, by the favour of the
gods, is fortunately accomplished in an instant.
Equally unnatural with tlhe fable are the sentiments of
this pastoral.  Amanryllis. passionately adored by 311irtillo,
and secretly loving him, employs a long and refined metaphysical argument to persuade him, that if he really loves
her, he ought to love her virtue; and that man's true glory
lies in curbing his appetites.  The moral chorus seems to
have notions of love much more consonant to human nature,
who discourses for a quarter of an hour on the different
kinds of kisses, and the supreme pleasure felt, when they
are the expression of a mutual passion.  But we need no
chorus to elucidate arccana of this nature.
True it is that in. this drama, as in the Aminta, there
are passages of such transcendent beauty, of such high poetic
merit, that we cannot wonder if, to many readers, they
should veil every absurdity of fable, or of the general strain
of sentiment: for who is there that can read the apostrophe
of Amaryllis to the groves and woods, the eulogy of rural
Care selve beate, &c.;
the charming address of Mirtillo to the spring0 primavera gioventi del anno, &c.;




lvi             ESSAY  ON  ItAINSAY'S
or the fanciful, but inspired description of the age of gold —
0 bella eth de 1' oro! &c.;
who  is there  that can read  these passages without the
highest admiration and delight? but it must at the same
time be owned, that the merit of these Italian poets lies in
those highly finished, but thinly sown passages of splendour;
and not in the structure of their fables, or the consonance
of their general sentiments to truth and nature.
The principal difficulty in pastoral poetry, when it attempts an actual delineation of nature, (which we have seen
is too seldom  its object,) lies in the association of delicate
and affecting sentiments with the genuine manners of rustic
life; an union so difficult to be accomplished, that the chief
pastoral poets, both ancient and modern, have either entirely
abandoned the attempt, by choosing to paint a fabulous and
chimerical state of society; or hav.e failed in their endeavoulr,
either by indulging in such refinement of sentiment as is
utterly inconsistent with rustic nature, or by endowing their
characters with such a rudeness and vulgarity of manners
as is hostile to every idea of delicacy.  It appears to me
that.Ramsay has most happily avoided these extremes; and
this he could the better do, from  the singularly fortunate
choice of his subject.  The principal persons of the drama,
though trained from  infancy in the manners of rustic life,
are of generous birth; to whom  therefore we may allow,
from  nature  and the  influence of blood, an  elevation of
sentiment, and a nobler mode of thinking, than to ordinary
peasants.  To these characters the poet has therefore, with
perfect propriety and  knowledge of human  nature, given
the generous sentiments that accord iwith their condition,
though  veiled a little by the  manners, and  conveyed in
the language which  suits their accidental situation.  The
other characters, who are truly peasants, are painted with
fidelity  from  nature; but even  of  these, the  situation
chosen by the poet was faivoUrable for avoiding  that ex



GENTLE SHEPHERD.                      lvii
treme vulgarity and coarseness of manners which would
have offended a good taste.  The peasantry of the Pentland hills, within six or seven miles of the metropolis,
with which of course they have frequent communication,
cannot be supposed to exhibit the same rudeness of manners which distinguishes those of the remote part of the
country.  As the models, therefore, fiom  which the poet
drew were cast in a finer mould than mere provincial rustics, so their copies, as drawn by him, do not offend by
their vulgarity, nor is there any greater degree of rusticity than what merely distinguishes their mode of life
and occupations.
In what I have said of the manners of the characters
in the  Gentle SShephlerd, I know  that I encounter the
prejudices of some Scotish critics, who allowing otherwise
the very high merits of Ramsay as a poet, and giving
him credit in particular for his knowledge of human nature,
and skill to touch the passions, quarrel with him only on
the score of his language; as they seem  to annex inseparably the idea of coarseness and vulgarity to every thing
that is written in the native dialect of their country: but
of this I have said enough before.  To every Englishman,
and, I trust, to every Scotsman not of fastidious refinement,
the dialect of the Gentle Shepherd will appear to be most
perfectly consonant to the characters of the speakers, and
the times in which the action is laid.  To this latter circumstance the critics I have just mentioned seem  not to
have been sufficiently attentive.  The language of this pastoral is not precisely the Scotish language of the present
day: the poet himself spoke the language of the beginning
of the century, and his persons were of the age preceding
that period. To us their dialect is an antiquated tongue,
and as such it carries with it a Doric simplicity.  But
when we consider both the characters and the times, it
has an  indispensable propriety; and  to have given the
speakers in the Gentle Shepheherd a more refined and pol



lviii             ESSAY   ON  IRAMISAY  S
ished dialect, or more modern  tone of conversation, -would
have been a gross violation of truth and nature.
In the faithful painting of rustic life,  RuamC.sacy seems to
have been  indebted  to  his own situation and early habits,
as well as to the want of a learned  education.   He was
familiarly acquainted with  rural nature  from   actual observation;  and  his  own  impressions avere  not weakened  or
altered by  much  acquaintance  with  the classical commonplaces, or with those artificial pictures which are presented
by  the poets.'   It is not therefore the  general characters
of the country, which one poet can  easily  draw  firom  the
works of others, that we find  in his pastoral; it -was the
country in which he lived, the genuine manners of its inhabitants, the actual scenes with which he was conversant,
that fixed his observation, and guided his imitative  pencil.
The character which, in  the preface to hlis Everlgreen, he
assigns to  the  Scotish  poetry  in  general, is in  the most
peculiar manner assignable to his own:-" The morning rises
in the poet's description, as she does in the Scotish horizon:
we  are  not carried  to  Greece  and  Italy  for a shade, a
* So little has Ramsay borrowed from  the ordinary language of
pastoral, which is generally a tame imitation of the dialogue of Virgil
and Theocritus, that in the whole of the Scotish poem  there are (I
think) only three passages that bring to mind those common-places
which, in the eclogues of Pope, we find almost in every line:
The bees shall loath the flower, and quit the hive,
The saughs on boggie-ground shall cease to thrive,
Ere scornful queans, &c..ldt I, Scene 1.
I've seen with shinin fair the morning rise,
And soon the sleety clouds inirk a' the skies.
I've seen the silver spring a while rin clear,
And soon in mossy puddles disappear.
The bridegroomn may rejoice, &c.      let 3, Scene 3.
See yon twa elms that grow up side by side,
Suppose them, som-e years syne, bridegroom and bride; &c.
g.ct 1, Scene 2.




GENTLE SHEPHERD.                        lix
stream, or a breeze; the groves rise in our own valleys, the
rivers flow  from  our own fountains, and the winds blow
upon our own hills."  Ramsay's landscapes are drawn with
the most characteristic precision: we view the scene before
us, as in the paintings of a Claude or a 7aterloo; and the
hinds and shepherds of the Pentland hills, to all of whom
this delightful pastoral is as familiar as their catechism,
can trace the whole of its scenery in nature, and are eager
to point out to the inquiring stranger-the  waterfall of
fIabbie's how —the cottages of Glaud and Symon-Sir lVilliam's ancient tower, ruinated in the civil wars, but since
rebuilt-the auld avenue and shadycl groves, still remaining
in defiance of the modern taste for naked, shadeless lawns.
And here let it be remarked, as perhaps the  surest criterion of the merit of this pastoral as a true detineation of
nature, that it is universally relished and admired by that
class of people whose habits of life and manners are there
described.  Its sentiments and descriptions are in  unison
with their feelings.  It is recited, with congenial animation
and delight, at the fireside of the farmer, when in the
evening the lads and lasses assemble to solace themselves
after the labours of the day, and share the rustic meal.
There is not a milk-maid, a plough-boy, or a shepherd, of
the Lowlands of Scotland, who has not by heart its favourite passages, and can rehearse its entire scenes.  There
are many of its couplets that, like the verses of Homer,
are become proverbial, and have the force of an adage,
when introduced in familiar writing, or in ordinary conuversation.
*           ~              * t       t








OPINIONS AND REMARKS
ON
"TIHE GENTLE SIHEPHEIRDI,"
BY VARIOU S AbUTEHOS.
JOHN AIMIN, LL. D.  1772.
"No attempt to naturalize pastoral poetry, appears to
have succeeded better than Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd: it
has a considerable air of reality, and the descriptive parts,
in general, are in the genuine taste of beautiful simplicity."'
JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.  1776.
"The sentiments of [the'Gentle Shepherd'], are natural,
the circumstances interesting; the characters well drawn,
well distinguished, and well contrasted; and the fable has
more probability than any other pastoral drama I am  acquainted with. To an Englishman who has never conversed
with the common people of Scotland, the language would
appear only antiquated, obscure, or unintelligible; but to a
Scotchman who thoroughly understands it, and is aware of
its vulgarity, it appears ludicrous; from the contrast between
meanness of phrase and dignity or seriousness of sentiment.
* Aikin's Essays on Song-Writing, p. 33.
F




lxii                 OPINIONS  ON
This gives a farcical air even to the most affecting part of
the poem; and occasions an impropriety of a peculiar kind,
which is very observable in the representation.  And accordingly, this play, with all its merit, and with a strong
national partiality in its favour, has never given general
satisfaction upon the stage."
WILLIAM TYTLER.  1783.
"Ramsay was a man of strong natural, though few acquired parts, possessed of much humour, and native poetic
fancy. Born in a pastoral country, he had strongly imbibed
the manners and humours of that life.  As I knew him
well, an honest man, and of'great pleasantry, it is with
peculiar satisfaction I seize this opportunity of doing justice
to his memory, in giving testimony to his being the author
of the Gentle Shephlerd, which, for the natural ease of the
dialogue, the propriety of the characters, perfectly similar to
the pastoral life in Scotland, the picturesque scenery, and,
above all, the simplicity and beauty of the fable, may justly
rank amongst the most eminent pastoral dramas that our
own or any other nation can boast of.  Merit will ever be
followed by detraction.  The envious tale, that the Gentle
Shepherd was the joint composition of some wits with whom
Ramnsay conversed, is without truth.  It might be sufficient
to say, that none of these gentlemen have left the smallest
fragment behind them that can give countenance to such a
claim.  While I passed my infancy at Newhall, near Pentland hills, where the scenes of this pastoral poem are laid,
the seat of Mr. Forbes, and the resort of many of the literati
at that time, I well remember to have heard cRamnsay re'
cite, as his own production, different scenes of the Gentle'Shepherd, particularly the first two, before it was printed.?* Beattie's Essays, p. 652. Ed. 1776.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                      lxiii
I believe my honourable friend Sir Jaimes Clerk of Pennycutilk, where Raemsay frequently resided, and who I know
is possessed of several original poems composed by him,
can give the same testimony."
"P. S. The above note was shewn to Sir James Clerk,
and had his approbation."*
HUGH BLAIR, D. D.  1783.
"I must not omit the mention of another pastoral drama,
which will bear being brought into comparison with  any
composition of this kind, in any language; that is, Allan
Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd.  It is a great disadvantage to
this beautiful poem, that it is written  in the old rustic
dialect of Scotland, which, in a short time, will probably
be entirely obsolete, and not intelligible; and it is a farther
disadvantage that it is so entirely formned on the rural
manners of Scotland, that none but a native of that country
can thoroughly understand or relish it.  But, though subject to these local disadvantages, which confine its reputation within  narrow  limits, it is full of so much natural
description, and tender sentiment, as would do honour to
any poet.  The characters are well drawn, the incidents
affecting; the scenery and manners lively and just.  It
affords a strong proof, both of the power which nature and
simplicity possess, to reach the heart in every sort of
writing; and of the variety of pleasing characters and subjects with which pastoral poetry, when properly managed,
is capable of being enlivened."t
* Poetical Remains of James Ist of Scotland; p. 189.
t Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric, vol. iii. p. 126.




l]x1V               OPINIONS  ON
J OHN PINKERTON.  1786.
"ALLAN RAMSAY. The convivial buffoonery of this writer has acquired him a sort of reputation, which his poetry
by no means warrants; being far beneath  the middling,
and showing no spark of genius.  Even his buffoonery is
not that of a tavern, but that of an ale-house.
"The Gentle Shepherd all now allow the sole foundation
of his fame.  Let us put it in the furnace a little; for, if
it be gold, it will come out the purer.  Dr. Beattie, in his
Essay on Laughter and Ludicrous Composition, observes,
that the effect of the Gentle  Shepherd is ludicrous from
the contrast between  meanness of phrase, and dignity or
seriousness of sentiment.  This is not owing to its being
written in the Scotish dialect, now  left to the peasantry,
as that ingenious writer thinks; for the first part of Hardyknute, written in that very dialect, strikes every English
reader as sublime and pathetic to the highest degree.  In
fact this glaring defect proceeds from  Allan Ramsay's own
character as a buffoon, so evident from all his poems, and
which we all know he bore in private life; and from  Allan's total ignorance of the Scotish tongue, save that spoken
by the mob of Mid Lothian.  It is well known that a
comic actor of the Shuter or Edwin class, though highly
meritorious in his line, yet, were he to appear in any save
qgueer characters, the effect would even be more ludicrous
than when he was in his proper parts, from the contrast of
the man with his assumed character.  This applies also to
authors; for Sterne's sermons made us laugh, though there
was nothing laughable in them: and, had Rabelais, or
Sterne, written a pastoral opera, though the reader had been
ignorant of their characters, still a something, a je ie e sai
quoi, in the phraseology, would have ever provoked laughter.
But this effect Ramsay has even pushed further; for, by his
entire ignorance of the Scotish tongue, save that spoken by




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                      lxv
the mob around him, he was forced to use the very phraseology of the merest vulgar, rendered yet more ridiculous
by his own turn to low humour; being himself indeed one
of the mob, both in education and in mind. So that putting
such queer language into the mouth of respectable characters
— nay, pretending to clothe sentiments, pathos, and all that,
with such phraseology-his whole Gentle Shepherd has the
same effect as a gentleman would have who chose to drive
sheep on the highway with a harlequin's coat on.  This
radical defect at once throws the piece quite out of the class
of good compositions.
"Allan was indeed so much a poet, that in his Evergreen he even puts rhyming titles to the old poems he publishes; and by this silly idea, and his own low character,
has stamped a kind of ludicrous hue on the old Scotish
poetry, of which he pretended to be a publisher, that even
now  is hardly eradicated, though many editors of great
learning and high respectability have arisen.
"I have been the fuller on this subject, because, to the
great discredit of taste in Scotland, while we admire the
effusions of this scribbler, we utterly neglect our really great
poets, such as Barbour, Dunbar, Drummond, &c.  There is
even a sort of national prejudice in favour of the Gentle
Shepherd, because it is our only drama in the Scotish language; yet we ought to be ashamed to hold prejudices so
ridiculous to other nations, and so obnoxious to taste, and
just criticism.  I glory in Scotland as my native country;
and, while I try to root up all other prejudices out of my
mind, shall ever nourish my partiality to my country; as,
if that be a prejudice, it has been esteemed an honest and
a laudable one in all ages; and is, indeed, the only prejudice perfectly consonant to  reason, and vindicable by
truth.  But Scotland has no occasion to recur to false history, false taste, false science, or false honours of any kind.




lxvi                 OPINIONS ON
In the severest light of truth she will stand very conspicuous.  Her sons, in trying  to adorn her, have shown
remarkable defects of judgment.  The ancient history of the
Picts, so splendid in the page of Tacitus, is lost in our own
fables.  We neglect all our great poets, and are in raptures
with Allan Ramsay. Our prejudices are as pitiful as strong;
and we know not that the truth would make us far more
illustrious, than all our dreams of prejudice, if realized, to
use  an  expression  of impossibility.   Good  sense in  antiquities, and good taste in poetry, are astonishingly wanting
in Scotland to this hour."*
JOSEPH IRITSON.  1794.
"Ramsay was a man of strong natural parts, and a fine
poetical genius, of which his celebrated 2)astoral The Gentle
Shepherd will ever remain a substantial monument; and
though some of his songs may be deformed by far-fetched
allusions and pitiful conceits,.The Lass of Patie's 2uill,'Vie
Yellowv-hair'd Laddie, Farewell to Lochlaber, and some others,
must be allowed equal to any, and even superior, in point
of pastoral simplicity, to most lyric productions, either in
the Scotish or any other language."t
WILLIAM ROSCOE.  1795.
"Whether the dialect of Scotland be more favourable to
attempts of this nature, or whether we are to seek for the
fact in the character of the people, or the peculiar talents
of the writers, certain it is, that the idiom of that country
* Ancient Scotish Poems. Vol. I. London, 1786.
t Ritson's Hist. Essay on Scotish Song, p. lxiii.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                  lxvii
has been much more successfully employed in poetical composition, than that of any other part of these kingdoms,
and that this practice may'here be traced to a very early
period.  In later times the beautiful dramatic poem of The
Gentle Shepherd has exhibited rusticity without vulgarity,
and elegant sentiment without affectation.  Like the heroes
of Homer, the characters of this piece can engage in the
humblest occupations without degradation."*
THOMAS CAMPBELL.  1819.
"The admirers of the Gentle Shepherd, must perhaps be
contented  to share some suspicion of national partiality,
while they do justice to  their own feeling  of its merit.
Yet as this drama is a picture of rustic Scotland, it would
perhaps be saying little for its fidelity, if it yielded no more
agreeableness to the breast of a native than he could expound to a stranger by the strict letter of criticism. We
should think the painter had finished the likeness of a
mother very indifferently, if it did not bring home to her
children traits of undefinable expression which had escaped
every eye but that of familiar affection.  Ramsay had not
the force of Burns; but, neither, in just proportion to his
merits, is he likely to be felt by an English reader.  The
fire of Burns' wit and passion glows through an obscure
dialect by its confinement to short and concentrated bursts.
The interest which Ramsay excites is spread over a long
poem, delineating manners more  than passions; and the
mind must be at home both in the language and manners,
to appreciate the skill and comic archness with which he
has heightened the display of rustic character without giving
it vulgarity, and refined the view of peasant life by situations of sweetness and tenderness, without departing in the
* Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de' Medici, vol. i. p. 296.




lxviii               OPINIONS  ON
least degree from its simplicity.  The Gentle Shepherd stands
quite apart from the general pastoral poetry of modern Europe.  It has no  satyrs, nor featureless simpletons, nor
drowsy and still landscapes of nature, but distinct characters
and amusing incidents.  The principal shepherd never speaks
out of consistency with the habits of a peasant, but he
moves in that sphere with such a manly spirit, -with so
much cheerful sensibility to its humble joys, with maxims
of life so rational and independent, and with an ascendency
over his fellow swains so well maintained by his force of
character, that if eve could suppose the pacific scenes of the
drama to be suddenly changed into situations of trouble and
danger, we should, ill exact consistency with our former idea
of him, expect him to become the leader of the peasants,
and the Tell of his native hamlet.  Nor is the character of
his mistress less beautifully conceived.  She is represented,
like himself, as elevated, by a fortunate discovery, from
obscure to opulent life, yet as equally capable of being the
ornament of either.  A Richardson or a D'Arblay, had they
continued her history, might have heightened the portrait,
but they would not have  altered its outline.  Like the
poetry of Tasso and Ariosto, that of the Gentle Shepherd is
engraven on the memory of its native country.  Its verses
have passed into proverbs; and it continues to be the delight and solace of the peasantry whom it describes."*
LEIGH HTUNT.  1848.
"Poetical expression in humble life is to be found all
over the south.  In the instances of Burns, Ramsay, and
others, the north also has seen it.  Indeed, it is not a little
remarkable, that Scotland, which is more northern than En* Campbell's British Poetry, vol. v. pp. 344-346.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPItERD.                  lxix
gland, and possesses not even a nightingale, has had- more
-of' it than its southern neighbour."
"Allan Ramsay is the prince of the homely pastoral
drama.  He and Burns have helped Scotland for ever to
take pride in its heather, and its braes, and its bonny rivers,
and be ashamed of no honest truth in high estate or in
low; an incalculable blessing.  Ramsay is entitled not only
to the designation we have given him, but in some respects
is the best pastoral writer in the world.  There are, in
truth, two sorts of genuine pastoral —the high  ideal of
Fletcher and Milton, which is justly to be considered the
more poetical, —and the homely ideal, as set forth by Allan
Ramsay and some of the Idyls of Theocritus, and which
gives us such feelings, of nature and passion as poetical
rustics not only can, but have entertained and eloquently
described.  And we think the Gentle Shepherd,'in some
respects,' the best pastoral that ever was written, not because it has anything, in a. poetical point of view, to compare with Fletcher and Milton, but because there is, upon
the whole, more faith and more love in it, and because the
kind of idealized truth which it undertakes to represent, is
delivered in a more corresponding and satisfactory form than
in any other entire pastoral drama.  In fact, the Gentle
Shepherd has no alloy whatsoever to its pretensions, such
as they are-no failure in plot, language, or characternothing answering to the coldness and irrelevances of'Comus,'
nor to the offensive and untrue violations of decorum in the'Wanton Shepherdess' of Fletcher's pastoral, and the pedantic and ostentatious chastity of his Faithful one.  It is
a pure, healthy, natural, and (of its kind) perfect plant,
sprung out of an unluxuriant but not ungenial soil; not
hung with the beauty and fragrance of the productions of
the higher regions of Parnassus; not waited upon by spirits
and enchanted music; a dog-rose, if you will; say rather, a
rose in a cottage-garden, dabbled with the morning dew,
and plucked by an honest lover to give to his mistress.




lxX                   OPINIONS ON
" Allan  Ramsay's  poem  is  not only  a  probable  and
pleasing story, containing charming pictures, much knowledge of life, and a good deal of quiet humour, but in some
respects it may be called classical, if by classical is meant
ease, precision, and  unsuperfluousness of style.   Ramsay's
diction is singularly straightforward, seldom  needing the assistance of inversions; and he rarely says anything for the
purpose of'filling  up;'-two freedoms from  defect the reverse of vulgar and commonplace; nay, the reverse of a great
deal of what pretends to be fine writing, and is received
as such.  We confess we never tire of dipping into it,'on
and off,' any more than into  Fletcher or Milton, or into
Theocritus himself, who, for the union of something higher
with true pastoral, is unrivalled in short pieces.  The Gentle  Shepherd  is not a  forest, nor a mountain-side, nor
Arcady; but it is a field full of daisies, with a brook in
it, and a cottage'at the sunny end;' and this we take to
be no mean thing, either in the real or the ideal -world.
Our Jar of Honey may well lie for a few  moments among
its heather, albeit filled with IHybla.  There are bees,'look
you,' in Habbie's How.   Theocritus and Allan shake hands
over a shepherd's pipe.  Take the beginning of Scene ii.,
Act i., both for description and dialogue:-:' A flowrie howm between twa verdant braes,
Where lasses use to wash and spread their claiths,
A trotting burnie wimpling thro' the groundZ,
Its channel peebles, shining, smooth, and round;
Here view twa barefoot beauties clean and clear;
First please your eye, next gratify your ear,
While Jenny what she wishes discommends,
And Meg, with better sense true love defends.
JENNY.
Come, Meg, let's fa' to wark upon this green,
The shining day will bleech our linen clean;
The water's clear, the lift unclouded blew,
Will make them like a -lilly wet with dew,




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                          ]xxi
P~GGYo
Go farer up the burn to Habby's How,
Where a' the sweets of spring and summer grow;
Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin,
The water fa's, and makes a singand din;
A pool breast-leep beneath, as clear as glass,
Kisses with easy wzhirles the bordring grass:
We'll end our washing while the morning's cool,
And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool,
There wash our sells-'tis healthfu' now in May,
And sweetly cauler on sae warm a day.'
"This is an out-door picture.   Here is an in-door one
quite as good-inay, better.
6 TJhile Peggy laces sup her bosom fasr,
WVith a blew snood Jenny binds sup her hair;
Glaud by his morning ingle takes a beek,
The rising saun shines motty thro' the reek,
A pipe his mouth; the lasses please his een,
And now and than his joke maznn interveen.'
"We would quote, if we could-only it might not look
so proper, when isolated-the whole song at the close of Act
the Second.   The first line of it alone is worth  all Pope's
pastorals put together, and (we were going to add) half of
those of Virgil; but we reverence too much  the great follower of the Greeks, and true lover of the country.   There
is more sentiment, and equal nature, in the song at the end
of Act the Fourth.   Peggy is taking  leave  of her lover,
who is going abroad: —'At setting day, and rising morn,
W~ith soul that still shall love thee,
I'll ask of Heaven thy safe return,
With all that can improve thee,
I'll visit aft the Birken Bush,
Where first thou kindly told me
Sweet tales of love, and hid  nsy blush,
Whilst round thou didst enfold mne




lXXii                OPINIONS  ON
To all our haunts I will repair,
By Greenwood-shaw or fountain;
Or where the summer-day I'd share'With thee upon yon mountain.
There will I tell the trees and flowers,
From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
By vowes you're mine, by, love is yours
A heart which cannot wander.'
"The charming and so (to speak) natural flattery of the
loving delicacy of this distinction-'By vows you're irmine, by love is yours,'
was never surpassed by a passion the most refined.  It reminds us of a like passage in the anonymous words (Shakspeare might have written them) of the fine old English
madrigal by Ford,'Since first I saw your face.'  Perhaps
Ford himself wrote them; for the author of that music had
sentiment enough in him  for anything.  The passage we
allude to is-' What, I that loved, and you that liked,
Shall we begin to wrangle?'
The highest refinement of the heart, though  too rare in
most classes, is luckily to be found in all; and hence it is,
that certain meetings of extremes in lovers of different ranks
in life are not always to be attributed either to a failure of
taste on the one side, or unsuitable pretensions on the other.
Scotish dukes have been known to meet with real GentleShepherd heroines; and everybody knows the story  of a
lowly Countess of Exeter, who was too sensitive to survive
the disclosure of the rank to which her lover had raised
her."*
* A Jar of Honey from }Mount lIybla, by L. Hunt, p. 106. London,
1848.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                  lxxiii
A.NECDOTE OF LADY STRANGE.
During nearly twenty years of the latter part of Ramsay's life, "he continued occasionally to write epistles in
verse, and other short pieces, as he had done before, for the
entertainment of his private friends.  When urged by some
of them  to give some more of his works to the press, he
said that he was more inclined, if it were in his power, to
recall much of what he had already written, and that if
half his printed books were burnt, the other half, like the
Sybil's books, would become more valuable by it.""   Still
more deeply was this feeling entertained by his son, who
hesitated not to express it in a manner more emphatic than
respectful to his father's memory. On one occasion, in London, and in the house of Lady Strange, widow of the celebrated engraver of that name-a lady whose kindness to
her countrymen and predilection for Scotland will long be
remembered-he is said to have declared that if he could
purchase every copy of his father's writings, even at the
cost of a thousand pounds, he would commit them  to the
flames.  "Indeed, sir," replied the lady, misunderstanding
his meaning, "then let me tell you that if you could, and
should do so, your labour would be lost, for I can," says
she, "repeat from memory every word of the Gentle Shepherd, and were you to consume every copy of it, I would
write out that matchless poem  with my own  hand, and
cause it to be printed at my own charges."t
* Lives of Eminent Scotsmen. London, 1821.
t We are indebted for this anecdote to the venerable George Thomson, Esq., the correspondent of Burns and publisher of his finest songs,
now living and in the 93d year of his age, who had it from - Macgowan,
Esq., a gentleman formerly well known in this city, as having been told
him by Lady Strange herself.
[Ramsay's Poems. Ed. 1850








LIST OF ALLAN RAMSAY'S WORKS.
PoEMs.-Ecinburgh, 1721-28.  4to.  2 vols.  First collective
edition. Many other editions. See Preface, page ix.
THE EVERGREEN, being a Collection  of Scots Poems, wrote
by the Ingenilous before 1600.  Edinburgh, 1724.  16mo.  2
vols. Reprinted, 1761 and 1824.
THE TEA-TABLE MIISCELLANY.  Edinburgh, 1724, &c.-4 vols.
12mo.  A well-known collection of Songs, English as well as
Scotish, by several Ihands. Many other editions.
TEA-TABLE  MISCELLANY-Cir-ca  1726.   "Music  for  Allan
Ramsay's collection of Scots Songs: Set by Alexander Stuart,
and engraved by R. Cooper, vol. First.  Edinburgh; printed
and sold by Allan Ramsa,"'
This is a small oblong volunme of 156 pages, divided into six
parts, and contains the music of seventy-one Songs, selected
from the first volume of the Tea-Table  liscellany, printed in
1724. It is very scarce, and no second volume ever appeared.
THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD, a Scots Pastoral Comedy.  Edin-:burgh, 1725.  First edition.  Numerous other editions.  See
Preface, pace x. Included in all the collective editions of the
Poems.
Tranrfctions.- By Cornelius Vanderstop.  London, 1777.
8vo.-By WV. Ward.  London, 1785. 8vo.-By Margaret Turner. London, 1790. 8vo.
FABLEEs —A  Collection  of thirty  Fables.  Edinburgh, 1730.
First collective edition.  The greater part of these were included in the quarto of 1728, and are to be found in all the
more recent editions of the Poems.
PROVERBs.-A  Collection  of Scots  Proverbs.   Edinburgh,
1737.  12mo.  Nlumerous editions.








THE I{IGHT HONOUiRABLE
SUSANNA,
aO T NTESS OF E GLIX TO UoN*
MADAM,
The love of approbation, and a desire to please the
best, have ever encouraged the Poets to finish their designs with  chearfulness.   But, conscious of their  own
inability to  oppose  a storm  of spleen  and  haughty illnature, it is generally an ingenious custom  amongst them
to chuse some honourable shade.
Wherefore, I beg  leave to  put my Pastoral under
your Ladyship's protection.   If my Patroness says, the
Shepherds speak as they ought, and that there are sev-: "This is the same dignified lady, to whom, at the age of eightyfive, Johnson, and Boswell, offered their homage; whose powers of
pleasing continued so resplendent as to charm the fastidious sage
into a declaration that, in visiting such a woman, he had spent his
day well. This celebrated patroness of poets was the accomplished
daughter of the noble house of Kennedy, who having married, in
1708, Alexander the Earl of Eglinton, by whom she had three sons,
two of whom  succeeded to the earldom, and seven daughters who
married into honourable families, died on the 18th of March, 1780,
at the patriarchal age of ninety-one." —Geo. Chalmers' Life of Ramsay page xxxiv., edition of 1800.




ti                 I~DEDICATION.
eral natural flowers that beautify the rural wild, I shll
have good reason to think mnyself safe from the awrkward
censure of some pretending judges that condemn before
examination.
I aim sure of vast numbers that will crowd into your
Ladyship's opinion, and think it their honour to agree
in their sentiments with  the Countess of EGLINTOUN,
whose penetration, superior wit, and sound judgment,
shines with  an  uncommon  lustre, while accompanied
with the diviner charms of goodness and equality of
mind.
If it were not for offending only your Ladyship, here,
Madalm, I might give the fullest liberty to my muse to
delineate the finest of women, by drawing your Ladyship's character, ancd be in no hazard of being deemed a
flatterer; since flattery lyes not in paying what's due to
merit, but in praises misplaced.
Were I to begin with your Ladyship's honourable
birth and alliance, the field's ample, and presents us
with numberless great and good Patriots that have dignified the names of KENNEDY and MONTGOMERY: Be that
the care of the herauld and historian.'Tis personal
merit, and the heavenly sweetness of the fair, that inspire the tuneful lays.   Here every Lesbia must be
excepted, whose  tongues give liberty  to  the  sla-ves,
which their eyes had made captives.  Such may be flatter'd; but your Ladyship justly claims our admiration
and profoundest respect: for, whilst you are possest of
every outward charm  in the most perfect degree, the
never-fading beauties of wisdom  and piety, which adorn
your Ladyship's mind, command devotion.
"All this is very true," cries one of better sense
than good nature, "but what occasion have you'to tell




DEDICATION.                      iii
us the sun shines, when we have the use of our eyes,
and feel his influence?" —Very true; but I have the
liberty to use the Poet's privilege, which is, "To speak
what every body thinks."  Indeed, there might be some
strength in the reflection, if the Idalian registers were
of as short duration as life:'but the bard, who fondly
hopes immortality, has a certain praise-worthy pleasure
in communicating to posterity the fame of distinguished
characters.    I write this last sentence with a hand that
trembles between hope and fear: But if I shall prove
so happy as to please your Ladyship in the following
attempt, then all my doubts shall vanish like a morning
vapour:-I shall hope to be classed with Tasso and
Guarini, and sing with Ovid,
"If'tis allowed to Poets to divine,
One half of round eternity is mine."
MADAM,
Your Ladyship's most obedient,
and most devoted servant,
ALLAN RAMSAY.
EDINBURGH, Jut, u 1726.




TO ME
COUNTESS OF EGLINTOUN,
WITH THE FOLLOWING PASTORAL.
ACCEPT, O EGLINTOUN! the rural lays,
That, bound to thee, thy duteous Poet pays!
The muse, that oft has rais'd her tuneful strains,
A frequent guest on SCOTIA's blissful plains,
That oft has sung, her list'ning youth to move,
The charms of beauty and the force of love,
Once more resumes the still successful lay,
Delighted, thro' the verdant meads to stray.
O! come, invok'd, and pleas'd, with Her repair,
To breathe the balmy sweets of purer air,
In the cool evening negligently laid,
Or near the stream, or in the rural shade,
Propitious hear, and, as thou hear'st, approve
The GENTLE SHEPHERD'S tender tale of love.
Instructed from these scenes, what glowing fires
Inflame the breast that real love inspires!
The fair shall read of ardours, sighs, and tears,
All that a lover hopes, and all he fears:
Hence, too, what passions in his bosom rise!
What dawning gladness sparkles in his eyes!
When first the fair one, piteous of his fate,




POETICAL DEDICATION.                     V
Cur'd of her scorn, and vanquish'd of her hate,
With willing mind, is bounteous to relent,
And blushing, beauteous, smiles the kind consent!
Love's passion here in each extreme is shown,
In Charlot's smile, or in Maria's frown.
With words like these, that fail'd not to engage,
Love courted beauty in a golden age,
Pure and untaught, such nature first inspir'd.
Ere yet the fair affected phrase desir'd.
His secret thoughts were undisguis'd with art,
His words ne'er knew to differ from his heart:
He speaks his love so artless and sincere,
As thy Eliza might be pleas'd to hear.
Heaven only to the Rural State bestows
Conquest o'er life, and freedom from its woes:
Secure alike from Envy and from  Care;
N -r rais'd by Hope, nor yet depress'd by Fear:
Nor Want's lean hand its happiness constrains,
Nor Riches torture with ill-gotten gains.
No secret Guilt its stedfast peace destroys,
No wild Ambition interrupts its joys.
Blest still to spend the hours that Heav'n has lent
In humble goodness, and in calm content:
Serenely gentle, as the thoughts that roll,
Sinless and pure, in fair Humeia's soul.
But now the Rural State these joys has lost;
Even swains no more that innocence can boast:
Love speaks no more what beauty may believe,
Prone to betray, and practis'd to deceive.
Now happiness forsakes her blest retreat,
The peaceful dwellings where she fix'd her seat;
The pleasing fields she wont of old to grace,
Companion. to an upright sober race;




Vi          gPOETICAL:DEDICATION.
When on the sunny hill, or verdant plain,
Free and familiar with the sons of men,
To crown the pleasures of the blameless feast,
She uninvited came a welcome guest;
Ere yet an age, grown rich in impious arts,
Brib'd from their innocence incautious hearts:
Then grudging hate, and sinful pride succeed,
Cruel revenge, and false unrighteous deed;
Then dow'rless beauty lost the power to move;
The rust of lucre stain'd the gold of love:
Bounteous no more, and hospitably good,
The genial hearth first blush'd with stranger's blood:
The friend no more upon the friend relies,
And semblant falsehood puts on truth's disguise:
The peaceful houshold fill'd with dire alarms;
The ravish'd virgin mourns her slighted charms:
The voice of impious mirth is heard around;
In guilt they feast, in guilt the bowl is crowned:
Unpunish'd violence lords it o'er the plains,
And Happiness forsakes the guilty swains.
Oh Happiness! from human search retir'd,
Where art thou to be found, by all desir'd?
Nun, sober and devout! why art thou fled,
To hide in shades thy meek contented head 
Virgin of aspect mild! ah! why, unkind,
Fly'st thou, displeas'd, the commerce of mankind?
O! teach our steps to find the secret cell,
Where, with thy sire, Content, thou lov'st to dwell.
Or say, dost thou, a duteous handmaid, wait
Familiar at the chambers of the great?
Dost thou pursue the voice of them that call
To noisy revel, and to midnight ball?
O'er the full banquet when we feast our soul,




POETICAL DEDICATION.                 Vlt
Dost thou inspire the mirth, or mix the bowl 
Or, with th' industrious planter dost thou talk,
Conversing freely in an evening walk 
Say, does the miser e'er thy face behold.
Watchful and studious of the treasur'ld gold?
Seeks Knowledge, not in vain, thy much lov'd pow'r,
Still musing silent at the morning hour?
May we thy presence hope in war's alarms,
The Statesman's wisdomll, or the Fair-one's charms?
in vain our flatt'ring hopes our steps beguile,
The flying good eludes the searcher's toil:
In vain we seek the city or the cell,
Alone with Virtue knows the Pow'r to dwell.
Nor need mankind despair these joys to know,
The gift themselves may on themselves bestow.
Soon, soon we mlight the precious blessing boast,
But many passions must the blessing cost;
Infernal Malice, inly pining Hate,
And Envy, grieving at another's state:
Revenge no more must in our hearts remain,
Or burning Lust, or Avarice of gain.
When these are in the human bosom nurst,
Can Peace reside in dwellings so accurst3
Unlike, O EGLINTOUN! thy happy breast,
Calm and serene enjoys the heavenly guest;
From the tumultuous rule of passions free'd,
Pure in thy thought, and spotless in thy deed:
In virtues rich, in goodness unconfin'd,
Thou shin'st a fair example to thy kind;
Sincere and equal to thy neighbour's fame,
How swift to praise, but how averse to blame!
Bold in thy presence bashful Sense appears,
And backward Merit loses all its fears.




ywit        POETICAL  DEDICATION.
Supremely blest by Heav'n, Iea-v'n's richest grace,
Confest is thine, an early blooming race;
Whose pleasing smiles shall guardian Wisdom arm,
Divine Instruction! taught of thee to charm:
What transports shall they to thy soul impart,
(The conscious transports of a parent's heart)
When thou behold'st them of each grace possest,
And sighing youths imploring to be blest!
After thy image form'd, with charms like thine,
Or in the visit, or the dance to shine:
Thrice happy! who succeed their mother's praise,
The lovely EGLINTOUNS Of future days.
Meanwhile peruse the following tender scenes,
And listen to thy native Poet's strains:
In ancient garb the home-bred muse appears,
The garb our RMuses wore in former years:
As in a glass reflected, here behold
How smiling goodness look'd in days of old:
Nor blush to read where beauty's praise is shown,
And virtuous love, the likeness of thy own;
While,'midst the various gifts that gracious Heaven,
Bounteous to thee, with righteous hand has given,
Let this, O EGLINTOUN! delight thee most,
T' enjoy that Innocence the world has lost.
W.H.




TO
JOSIAH BURCHET, ESQ.,
SECRETARY OF THE ADMIRALTY,
WITH THE FIRST SCENE 0F THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
THE nipping frosts, the driving snaw,
Are o'er the hills and far awa';
Bauld Boreas sleeps, the Zephyres blaw,
And ilka thing
Sae dainty, youthfou, gay, and bra',
Invites to sing.
Then let's begin by creek of day,
Kind muse skiff' to the bent away,
To try anes mair the landart lay,
With a' thy speed,
Since BURcHET awns that thou can. play
Upon the reed.
Anes, anes again beneath some tree
Exert thy skill and nat'ral glee,
To him wha has sae courteously,
To weaker sight,
Set these* rude sonnets sung by me
In truest light.
* To weaker sight, set these, &c.]  Having done me the honour
of turning some of my pastoral poems into English, justly and
elegantly.




X           POETICAL  DEDICATION.
In truest light may a' that's fine
In his fair character still shine,
Sma' need he has of sangs like mine
To beet his name;
For frae the north to southern line,
Wide gangs his fame.
His fame, which ever shall abide,
Whilst hist'ries tell of tyrants pride,
Wha vainly strave upon the tide
T' invade these lands,
Where Britain's royal fleet doth ride,
Which still commands.
These doughty actions frae his pen,*
Our age, and these to come, shall ken,
How stubborn navies did contend
Upon the waves,
How free-born Britons faught like men,
Their faies like slaves.
Sae far inscribing, Sir, to you,
This country sang, my fancy flew,
Keen your just merit to pursue;
But ah! I fear,
In giving praises that are due,
I grate your ear.
Yet tent a poet's zealous pray'r;
May powers aboon, with kindly care,
Grant you a lang and muckle skair
Of a' that's good,
* Frae his pen.] His valuable Naval History.




POETICAL  DEDICA TION.               x
Till unto langest life and mair
You've healthfu' stood.
May never care your blessings sowr,
And may the muses, ilka hour,
Improve your mind, and haunt your bow'r;
I'm but a callan:
Yet may I please you, while I'm your
Devoted Allan.




THE PERSONS.
MEN.
SIR WILLIAM WORTHY.
PATIE, the Gentle Shepherd, in love with Peggy.
ROGER, a rich young shepherd, in love with Jenny.
SYMON, two old shepherds, tenants to Sir William.
BAULDY, a hynd engaged with Neps.
WOMEN.
PEGGY, thought to be Glaud's niece.
JENNY, Glaud's only daughter.
MAUSE, an old woman, supposed to be a witch.
ELSPA, Symon's wife.
MADGE, Glaud's sister.
SCENE.-A Shepherd's Village, and Fields some few
miles from Edinburgh.
Time of Action within twenty hours.
First act begins at eight in the morning.
Second act begins at eleven in the forenoon.
Third act begins at four in the afternoon.
Fourth act begins at nine o'clock at night.
Fifth act begins by day light next morning.




TP11
GENTLE SHEPHERD.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE I
Beneath the south-side of a craigy beild,
Where crystal springs the halesorne waters yield,
Twa youthful shepherds on the gowans lay,
Tenting their flocks ao bonny morn of May.
Poor Roger granes, till hollow echoes ring;
But blyther Patie likes to laugh and sing.
PATIE and  ROGER.
SANG I.-The wawking of the fauld,
PATIE sings.
My Peggy is a young thing,
Just enter'd in her teens,
Fair as the day, and sweet as May,
Fair as the day, and always gay.
My Peggy is a young thing,
And I'm not very auld;




2          THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
Yet well I like to meet her, at'The wawking of the fauld.
My Peggy speaks sae sweetly,
WlVhene'er we meet alane,
Iwish nae mair to lay my care,
I wish zae mair of a' that's rare..Jfj Peggy speaks sae sweetly,
To a' the lave I'mz cauld;
But she gars a' my spirits glow
At wawking of thefauld.
My Peggy smiles sae kindly,
[,Vhene'er I whisper love,
That I look down on a' the town,
That I look down upon a crown.
ky Peggy smiles sae kindly,
It makes me blyth, and bauld;
And naething gi'es me sic delight,
As wawking of the fauld.
MWy Peggy sings sae saftly,
When on my pipe Iplay;
By a' the rest it is conf.st,
By a' the rest that she sings best.
My Peggy sings sae saftly,
And in he. sattgs are tauld,
With innocence, the wale of sense,
At wawking of the fauld.
PATIE.
THIS siunny morning, Roger, chears my blood,
And puts all nature in a jovial mood.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                  3
Ilow heartsome'tis to see the rising plants!
To hear the birds chirm o'er their pleasing rants!
How halesome'tis to snuff the cauler air,
And all the sweets it bears, when void of care 
Wlhat ails thee, Roger, then? what gars thee grane?
Tell me the cause of thy ill-season'd pain.
Rog. I'm born, 0 Patie! to a thrawart fate;
I'm born to strive with hardships sad and great.
Tempests may cease to jaw the rowan flood,
Corbies and tods to grein for lambkins blood;
But I, opprest with never ending grief,
Maun ay despair of lighting on relief.
Pat. The bees shall loath the flower, and quit the
hive,
The saughs on boggie-ground shall cease to thrive,
Ere scornful queans, or loss of warldly gear,
Shall spill my rest, or ever force a tear.
Rog. Sae might I say; but'tis no easy done
By ane whase saul is sadly out of tune.
You have sace saft a voice, and slid a tongue,
You are the darling of baith auld auld and youg.
If I but ettle at a sang, or speak,
They dit their lugs, syne up their leglens cleek;
And jeer me hameward frae the loan or bught,
While I'm confus'd with mony a vexing thought:
Yet I am tall, and as well built as thee,
Nor mair unlikely to a lass's e'e.
For ilka sheep ye have, I'll number ten,
And should, as ane may think, come farer ben.
Pat. But ablins, nibour, ye have not a heart,
And downa eithly wi' your cunzie part.




4         THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
If that be true, what signifies your gear?
A mind that's scrimpit never wants some care.
Rog. My byar tumbled, nine braw  nowt were
smnoor'd,
Three elf-shot were; yet I these ills endur'd:
In winter last, my cares were very sma',
Tho' scores of wathers perish'd in the snaw.
Pat. WVere your bein rooms as thinly stock'd as
mine,
Less you wad lose, and less you wad repine.
He that has just enough, can soundly sleep;
The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep.
Rog. May plenty flow upon thee for a cross,
That thou may'st thole the pangs of mony a loss.
O may'st thou doat on some fair paughty wench,
That ne'er will lout thy Iowan drouth to quench,'Till bris'd beneath the burden, thou cry dool,
And awn that ane may fret that is nae fool.
Pat. Sax good fat lambs I sald them ilka clute
At the WVest-Port, and bought a winsome flute,
Of plum-tree made, with iv'ry virles round;
A dainty whistle, with a pleasant sound:
I'll be mair canty wi't, and ne'er cry dool,
Than you with all your cash, ye dowie fool!
Rog. Na, Patie, na! I'm nae sic churlish beast,
Some other thing lyes heavier at my breast:
I dream'd a dreary dream this hinder night,
That gars my flesh a' creep yet with the fright.
Pat. Now, to a friend, how silly's this pretence,
To ane wha you and a' your secrets kens:
Daft are your dreams, as daftly wad ye hide




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                 5
Your well seen love, and dorty Jenny's pride.
Take courage, Roger, me your sorrows tell,
And safely think nane kens them but your sell.
Rog. Indeed now, Patie, ye have guess'd o'er true,
And there is naething I'll keep up frae you:
Mie dorty Jenny looks upon a-squint;
To speak but till her I dare hardly mint:
In ilka place she jeers me air and late,
And gars me look bunmbaz'd, and unko blate:
[But yesterday I met her'yont a know,
She fled as frae a shellycoat or kow.
She Bauldy loes, Bauldy that drives the car;
But gecks at me, and says I smell of tar.
Pat. But Bauldy loes not her, right well I wat;
He sighs for Neps-sae that may stand for that.
Rog. I wish I cou'dna loo her-but in vain,
I still maun dloat, and thole her proud disdain.
My Bawty is a cur I dearly like,
Even while he fawn'd, she strak the poor dumb tyke:
If I had fill'd a nook within her breast,
She wad have shawn mair kindness to my beast.
When I begin to tune my stock and horn,;With a' her face she shaws a caulrife scorn.
Last night I play'd, ye never heard sic spite,
O'er Boyie was the spring, and her delyte;
Yet tauntingly she at her cousin speer'd,
Gif she could tell what tune I play'd, and sneer'd.
Flocks, wander whlere ye like, I dinna care,
I'll break my reed, and never whistle mair.
Pat. E'en do sac, Roger, wha can help misluck,
Saebeins she be sic a thrawn-gabet chucek?




6         THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Yonder's a craig, since ye have tint all hope,
Gae till't your ways, and take the lover's lowp.
Rog. I needna mak' sic speed my blood to spill,
I'll warrant death come soon enough a will.
Pat. Daft gowk! leave off that silly whindging way;
Seem careless, there's my hand ye'll win the day.
Hear how I serv'd my lass I love as well
As ye do Jenny, and with heart as leel:
Last morning I was gay and early out,
Upon a dike I lean'd glowring about,
I saw my Meg come linkan o'er the lee;
I saw my Meg, but Meggy saw na me:
For yet the sun was wading thro' the mist,
And she was closs upon me ere she wist;
1er coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw
HIer straight bare legs that whiter were than snaw;
Her cockernony snooded up fou sleek,
Her haffet-locks hang waving' on her cheek;
Her cheek sac ruddy, and her een sac clear;
And 0! her mouth's like ony hinny pear.
Neat, neat she was, in bustine waste-coat clean,
As she came skiffing o'er the dewy green.
Blythsome, I cry'd, My bonny Meg, come here,
I ferly wherefore ye're sac soon asteer;
But I can guess, ye'er gawn to gather dew:
She scour'd awa, and said, Wlhat's that to you?
Then fare ye well, Meg Dorts, and e'en's ye like,
I careless cry'd, and lap in o'er the dike.
I trow, when that she saw, within a crack,
She came with a right thievless errand back;
Misca'd me first,-then bade me hound my dog




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                    7
To wear up three waff ews stray'd on the bog.
I leugh, and sae did she; then with great haste
I clasp'd my arms about her neck and waste,
About her yielding waste, and took a fouth
Of sweetest kisses frae her glowing mouth.
While hard and fast I held her in my grips,
My very saul came lowping to my lips.
Sair, sair she flet wi' me'tween ilka smack;
But well I kent she meant nae as she spake.
Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom,
Do ye sae too, and never fash your thumb.
Seem to forsake her, soon she'll change her mood;
Gae woo anither, and she'll gang clean wood.
SANG II.-lTne, Fy gar rub her o'er wi' strae.
Dear Roger, if your Jenny geck,
And answer kindness with a sl8qht,
Seen unconcern'd at her neglect,
For women in a man del/qht;
But them despise who're soon defeat,
And with a simple fIce give way
To a repulse;-then be not blate,
Push boldly on, and win the day.
When maidens, innocently young,
SGay aften what they never mean,
Ne'er mind their pretty lying tongue,
But tent the language of their een:
If these agree, and she persist
To answer all your love with hate,
Seek elsewhere to be better blest,
And let her sigh, when'tis too late.




8         THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Rog. Kindc Patie, now fair fa' your honest heart,
Ye're ay sae caclgy, and have sic an art
To hearten ane: For now as clean's a leek,
Ye've cherish'd me since ye began to speak.
Sae for your pains, I'll make ye a propine,
My mother, (rest her saul!) she made it fine,
A tartan plaid, spun of good hawslock woo,
Scarlet and green the sets, the borders blew,
WVith spraings like gowd and siller, cross'd with black;
I never had it yet upon my back.
Well are ye wordy o't, wha have sae kind
Red up my revel'd doubts, and clear'd my mind.
Pat. Well, hald ye there;-and since ye've frankly
made
A present to me of your braw new plaid,
My flute's be your's, and she too that's sae nice
Shall come a will, gif ye'll tak my advice.
R1og. As ye advise, I'll promise to observ't;
But ye mnaunn keep the flute, ye best deserv't.
Now tak it out, and gie's a bonny spring;
For I'm in tift to hear you play and sing.
Pat. But first we'll tak a turn up to the height,
And see gif all our flocks be feeding right.
Be that time, bannocks, and a shave of cheese,
WVill make a breakfast that a laird might please;
Might please the daintiest gabs, were they sae wise,
To season meat with health instead of spice.
WVhen we have tane the grace-drink at this well,
I'll whistle fine, and sing t'ye like mysell.  [Exeunt.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                       9
A 0T i-SCENE II.
A flowrie howm between twa verdant braes,
Where lasses use to wash and spread their claiths,
A trotting burnie wimpliug thro' the ground,
Its channel peebles, shining, smooth and round;
Here view twa barefoot beauties clean and clear;
First please your eye, next gratify your ear,
While Jenny what she wishes discommends,
And Meg with better sense true love defends.
PEGGY and JENNY.
Jenny.
COME, Meg, let's fa' to wark upon this green,
The shining day will bleech our linen clean;
The water's clear, the lift unclouded blew,
Will make them like a lilly wet with dew.
Peg. Go farer up the burn to Habby's How,
Where -a' the sweets of spring and summer grow;
Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin
The water fa's, and makes a singand din;
A pool breast-deep beneath, as clear as glass,
Kisses with easy whirles the bordring grass:
We'll end our washing while the morning's cool,
And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool,
There wash our sells-'tis healthfu' now in May,
And sweetly cauler on sae warm a day.
Jen. Daft lassie, when we're naked, what'll ye say,
Gif our twa herds come brattling down the brae,
And see us sae? that jeering fallow Pate
Wad taunting say, iaith, lasses, ye're no blate.
Peg. We're far frae ony road, and out of sight;




10        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
The lads they're feeding far beyont the height:
But tell me now, dear Jenny, (we're our lane,)'What gars ye plague your wooer with disdain'?
The nibours a' tent this as well as I,
That Roger loes you, yet ye carna by.
-What ails ye at him?  Trowth, between us twa,
He's wordy you the best day e'er ye saw.
Jen. I dinna like him, Peggy, there's an end;
A herd mair sheepish yet I never kend.
He kaimns his hair indeed, and gaes right snug,
With ribbon-knots at his blew bonnet-lug;
WVhilk pensily he wears a thought a-jee,
And spreads his garters dic'd beneath his knee.
He falds his owrlay down his breast with care;
And few gang trigger to the kirk or fair.
For a' that, he can neither sing nor say,
Except, Ilow d'ye?-or, There's a bonny day.
Peg. Ye dash the lad with constant slighting pride,
Hatred for love is unco sair to bide:
But ye'll repent ye, if his love grows cauld.
What like's a dorty maiden when she's auld?
Like dawted we'an, that tarrows at its meat,
That for some feckless whim will orp and greet.
The lave laugh at it, till the dinner's past, }
And syne the fool thing is oblig'd to fast,
Or scart anither's leavings at the last.
Fy, Jenny, think, and dinna sit your time.
SANG III. —Tune, Polwart on the Green.
The dorty will repent, 
If lover's heart grow cauld,




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                 1l
And nzane her smiles will tent,
Soon as her face looks auld.
The dawted bairn thus takes the pet,
Nor eats, tho' hunger crave,
WhVimpers and tarrows at its neat,
And's laught at by the lave.
They jest it till the dinner's past;
Thus by itself abus'd,
The jbol thing is oblig'd tofast,
Or eat what they've refus'd.
Jen. I never thought a single life a crime.
Peg. Nor I-but love in whispers lets us ken,
That men were made for us, and we for men.
Jen. If Roger is my jo, he kens himsell;
For sic a tale I never heard him tell.
lIe glowrs and sighs, and I can guess the cause,
But wha's oblig'd to spell his hums and haws?
Whene'er he likes to tell his mind mair plain,
I'se tell him frankly ne'er to do't again.
They're fools that slavery like, and may be free:
The cheils may a' knit up themsells for me.
Peg. Be doing your ways; for me, I have a mind
To be as yielding as my Patie's kind.
Jen. Heh! lass, how can you loo that rattle-skull,
A very deil that ay maun hae his will?
We'll soon hear tell what a poor fighting life
You twa will lead, sae soon's ye're man and wife.
Peg. I'll rin the risk; nor have I ony fear,':t rather think ilk langsome day a year,




12        THE  GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Till I with pleasure mount my bridal-bed,
Where on my Patie's breast 1'11 lean my head.
There we may kiss as lang as kissing's good,
And what we do, there's nane dare call it rude.
IHe's get his will: Why no?'Tis good my part
To give him that; and he'll give me his heart.
Jen. He may indeed, for ten or fifteen days,
Mak meikle o' ye, with an unco fraise,
And daut ye baith afore fowk and your lane:
But soon as his newfangleness is gane,
He'll look upon you as his tether-stake,
And think he's tint his freedom for your sake.
Instead then of lang days of sweet delite,
Ae day be dumb, and a' the neist he'll flite:
And may be, in his barlickhoods, ne'er stick
To lend his loving wife a loundering lick.
SANG IV. —Tune, 0 dear mother, what shall I do?
0 dear Peggy, love's beguiling,
We ought not to trust his smtiling;
Better far to do as I do,
Lest a harder luck betyde you.
Lasses, when their fancy's carry'd,
Think of nought but to be marry'd:
Running to a life destroys
Hleartsom e, free, and youtlfu' joys.
Peg. Sic coarse-spun thoughts as thae want pith to
move
My settl'd mind, I'm o'er far gane in love.
Patie to me is dearer than my breath;




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                 13
But want of him I dread nae other skaith.
There's nane of a' the herds that tread the green
Has sic a smile, or sic twa glancing een.
And then he speaks with sic a taking art,
His words they thirle like musick thro' my heart.
How blythly can he sport, and gently rave,
And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave?
Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill,
I-e reads fell books that teach him meikle skill.
He is —but what need I say that or this?
I'd spend a month to tell you what he is!
In a' he says or does, there's sic a gait,
The rest seem coofs compar'd with my dear Pate.
His better sense will lang his love secure:
Ill-nature heffs in sauls are weak and poor.
SANG V —Tlune, How can I be sad on my wedding-day?
How shall I be sad, when a husband I hae,
That has better sense than ony of thae
Sour wealk silly fallows, that study Wilce fools,
To sink their ain joy, and nmace their wives snools.
The man who is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife,
Or with dull reproaches encourages strife;
He praises her virtues, and ne'er will abuse
tier for a small failing, but find an excuse.
Jen. Hey! bonny lass of Branksome, or't be lang,
Your witty Pate will put you in a sang.
O!'tis a pleasant thing to be a bride;
Syne whindging getts about your ingle-side,
Yelping for this or that with fasheons din,
2




14        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
To mak them brats then ye maun toil and spin.
Ae we'an fa's sick, ane scads it sell wi' broe,
Ane breaks his shin, anither tynes his shoe;
The Deel gaes o'er John Wobster, hame grows hell,
When Pate misca's ye war than tongue can tell.
Peg. Yes,'tis a heartsome thing to be a wife,
~VWhen round the ingle-edge young sprouts are rife.
Gif I'm sae happy, I shall have delight,
To hear their little plaints, and keep them right.
Wow! Jenny, can there greater pleasure be,
Than see sic wee tots toolying at your knee;
When a' they ettle at-their greatest wish,
Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss?
Can there be toil in tenting day and night,
The like of them, when love makes care delight?
7en. But poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a',
Gif o'er your heads ill chance should beggary draw:
But little love, or canty chear can come,
Frae duddy doublets, and a pantry toorn.
Your nowt may die-the spate may bear away
Frae aff the howms your dainty rueks of hay.The thick blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows,
May smoor your wathers, and may rot your ews.
A dyvour buys your butter, woo and cheese,
But, or the day of payment, breaks and flees.
With glooman brow the laird seeks in his rent:'Tis no to gi'e; your merchant's to the bent;
His Honour mauna want, he poinds your gear:
Syne, driven frae house and hald, where will ye steer'?
Dear Meg, be wise, and live a single life;
Troth'tis nae mnows to be a marry'd wife.




THE GENTLE SHEPIHERD.                15
Peg. May sic ill luck befa' that silly she,
Wha has sic fears; for that was never me.
Let fowk bode well, and strive to do their best;
Nae mair's requir'd, let Heaven make out the rest.
I've heard my honest uncle aften say,
That lads shou'd a' for wives that's vertuous pray:
For the maist thrifty man cou'd never get
A wrell stor'd room, unless his wife wad let:
Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part,
To gather wealth to raise my Shepherd's heart.
What e'er he wins, I'll guide with canny care,
And win the vogue, at market, tron, or fair, i
For halesome, clean, cheap and sufficient ware.
A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some wvoo,
Shall first be said, to pay the laird his due;
Synce a' behind's our ain. —Thus, without fear,
With love and rowth we thro' the warldl will steer:
And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife,
He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife.
Jen. But what if somne young giglit on the green,
With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een,
Shou'd gar your Patie think his haff-worn Meg,
And her kend kisses, hardly worth a feg?
Peg. Nae tair of that;-Dear Jenny, to be free,
There's some men constanter in love than we:
Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind
Has blest them with solidity of mind.
They'll reason calmly, and with kindness smile,
When our short passions wad our peace beguile.
Sae, whensoe'er they slight their maiks at hame,'Tis ten to ane the wives are maist to blame.




16        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Then I'll employ with pleasure a' my art
To keep him chearfu', and secure his heart.
At even, when he comes weary frae the hill,
I'll have a' things macde ready to his will.
In winter, when he toils thro' wind and rain,
A bleezing ingle, and a clean hearth-stane.
And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff,
The seething pot's be ready to take aff.
Clean hagabao I'll spread upon his board,
And serve him with the best we can afford.
Good humour and white bigonets shall be
Guards to my face, to keep his love for me.
Jen. A dish of married love right soon grows cauld,
And dosens down to nane, as fowk grow auld.
Peg. But we'll grow auld togither, and ne'er find
The loss of youth, when love grows on the mind.
Bairns, and their bairns, make sure a firmer ty,
Than ought in love the like of us can spy.
See yon twa elms that grow up side by side,
Suppose them, some years syne, bridegroom and bride;
Nearer and nearer ilka year they've prest,'Till wide their spreading branches are increast,
And in their mixture now are fully blest.
This shields the other frae the eastlin blast,
That in return defends it frae the west.
Sic as stand single,-a state sae lik'd by you[
Beneath ilk storm, frae every airth, maun bow.
Jen. I've done,-I yield, dear lassie, I maun yield,
Your better sense has fairly won the field,
With the assistance of a little fee
Lyes darn'cI within my breast this mony a day.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                    17
SANG VI.-Tune, Nansy's to the green-wood gane.
I yield, dear lassie, you have won,
And there is nae denying,
That sure as light flows fjrae the sun,
Frae love proceeds comrplying.
For a' that we can do or say'Gainst love, nae thinkcer heeds us,
They ken our bosomis lodge the fae
That by the heartstrings leads us.
Peg. Alake! poor prisoner! Jenny, that's no fair,
That ye'll no let the wee thing tak the air:
Haste, let him out, we'll tent as well's we can,
Gif he be Bauldy's or poor Roger's man.
Jen. Anither time's as good,-for see the sun
Is right far up, and we're no yet begun
To freath the graith; —if canker'd Madge our aunt
Come up the burn, she'll gie's a wicked rant:
But when we've done, I'll tell ye a' my mind;
For this seems true, nae lass can be unkind.
[Exeunt..End of the FIRST AcT.
2*




18          THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
ACT SECOND.
SCENE I
A snug thack-house, before the door a green;
Hens on the midding, ducks in dubs are seen.
On this side stancds a barn, on that a byre'
A peat-stack joins, and forms a rural square.
The house is Glaud's;-there you may see him lean,
And to his divot-seat invite his frien'.
GLAUD and SYMON.
Glaud.
GOOD-MORROW, nibour Symon,-come sit down,
And gie's your cracks.-What's a' the news in town?
They tell me ye was in the ither day,
And said your Crummock and her bassend quey.
I'll warrant ye've coft a pund of cut and dry;
Lug out your box, and gie's a pipe to try.
Sym. With a' my heart;-and tent me now, auld boy,
I've gather'd news will kittle your mind with joy.
I cou'dna rest till I came o'er the burn,
To tell ye things have taken sic a turn,
WVill gar our vile oppressors stend like flaes,
And skulk in hidlings on the hether braes.
Glaud. Fy, blaw! Ah! Symie, ratling chiels ne'er
stand
To cleck and spread the grossest lies aff hand,




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.               19
Whilk soon flies round like will-fire far and near:
But loose your poke, be't true or fause, let's hear.
Symn. Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I have seen
tHab, that abroad has with our Master been;
Our brave good Master, wha right wisely fled,
And left a fair estate, to save his head:
Because ye ken fou well he bravely chose
To stand his liege's friend with great Montrose.
Now Cromwell's gane to Nick; and ane ca'd Monk
Has play'd the Rumple a right slee begunk,
Restor'd King Charles, and ilka thing's in tune:
And HEabby says, we'll see Sir William soon.
Glaud. That makes me blyth indeed;-but dinna
flaw:
Tell o'er your news again! and swear till't a';
And saw ye Hab! and what did Halbert say?
They have been e'en a dreary time away.
Now God be thanked that our laird's come hame;
And his estate, say, can he eithly claim?
Sym. They that hag-raid us till our guts did grane,
Like greedy bairs, dare nae mair do't again;
And good Sir William sall enjoy his ain.
SANG VII.-Tune, Cauld kail in Aberdeen.
(auld be the ~rebels cast,
Oppressors base and bloody,
I hope we'll see them at the last
Strung a' up in a woody.
Blest be he of worth and sense,
And ever hMgqh his station,




20         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
That bravely stands in the defence
Of conscience, kinlg and natzion.
Glaud. And may he lang; for never did he stent
Us in our thriving, with a racket rent:
Nor grumbl'd, if ane grew rich; or shor'd to raise
Our mailens, when we pat oh Sunday's claiths.
Sym. Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy air,
Allow our lyart noddles to be bare.
"' Put on your bonnet, Syrnon;-tak a seat." How's all at hame? -How's Elspa? How does Kate?
" How sells black cattle? —What gi'es woo this year?"
And sic like kindly questions wad he speer.
SANG VIII.-Tane, AMuclking of Geordy's byar.
The laird wha in' riches and honour
atcl thrive, should be kcindly and free.
Nor rack the poor tenants wha labour'To rise aboon poverty:
Else like the pack-horse that's un2fother'd,
And burden'ci, will tzumble down faint:
Thus virtute by hard ship is smnother'd,
And rackers aft tine their rent.
Glaud. Then wad he gar his Butler bring bedeen
The nappy bottle ben, and glasses clean,
Whilk in our breast rais'd sic a blythsome flame,
As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame.
MIy heart's e'en rais'd! Dear nibour, will ye stay,
And tak your dinner here with me the clay?
We'll send for Elspath too-and upo' sight,




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                21
I'll whistle Pate and Roger frae the height:
I'll yoke my sled, and send to the neist town,
And bring a draught of ale baith stout and brown,
And gar our cottars a', man, wife and we'an,
Drink till they tine the gate to stand their lane.
sym. I wad na bauk my friend his blyth design,
Gif that it hadna first of a' been mine:
For heer-yestreen I brew'd a bow of maut,
Yestreen I slew twa wathers prime and fat;
A firlot of good cakes my Elspa beuk,
And a large ham hings reesting in the nook:
I saw my sell, or I came o'er the loan,
Our meikle pot that scads the whey put on,
A mutton-bouk to boil:-And ane we'll roast;
And on the haggies Elspa spares nae cost;
Sma' are they shorn, and she can mix fu' nice
The gusty ingans with a curn of spice:
Fat are the puddings,-heads and feet well sung.
And we've invited nibours auld and young,
To pass this afternoon with glee and game,
And drink our Master's health and welcome-hame.
Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest,
Since ye're my nearest friend that I like best.
Bring wi'ye a' your family, and then,
When e'er you please, I'll rant wi' you again.
Glaud. Spoke like ye'r sell, auld-birky, never fear
But at your banquet I shall first appear.
Faith we shall bend the bicker, and look bauld,
Till we forget that we are fail'd or auld.
Auld, said I!-troth I'm younger be a score,
With your good news, than what T was before.




22        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
I'll dance or e'en!  Hey! Madge, come forth: D'ye
hear?
Enter MADGE.
liad. The man's gane gyte! Dear Symon, welcome
here.
RWhat wad ye, Glaud, with a' this haste and din?
Ye never let a body sit to spin.
Glaud. Spin! snuff-Gae break your wheel, and
burn your tow,
And set the meiklest peat-stack in a low;
Syne dance about the bane-fire till ye die,
Since now again we'll soon Sir William see.
lfatd. Blyth news indeed[  And wha was't tald
you o't?
Glaud. What's that to you?-Gae get my Sunday's coat;
WVale out the whitest of my bobbit bands,
My white-skin hose, and mittons for my hands;
Then frae their washing, cry the bairns in haste,
And make yoursells as trig, head, feet, and waist,
As ye were a' to get young lads or e'en;
For we're gaun o'er to dine with Sym bedeen..Sym. Do, honest Madge:-And, Glaud, I'll o'er
the gate,
And see that a' be done as I wad hae't.    [Exeant.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                 23
A CT IL -SCENE IT.
The open field.-A cottage in a glen,
An auld wife spinning at the sunny end.At a small distance, by a blasted tree,
With falded arms, and haff rais'd look, ye see
BAULDY his lane.
BAULDY.
WVHAT'S this!-I canna bear't!'tis war than hell,
To be sae burnt with love, yet darna tell!
O Peggy, sweeter than the dawning day,
Sweeter than gowany glens, or new mawn hay;
Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows;
Straighter than ought that in the forest grows:
Her een the clearest blob of dew outshines;
The lilly in her breast its beauty tines.
Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een,
WTill be my dead, that will be shortly seen!
For Pate loes her, —waes me! and she loes Pate;
And I with Neps, by some unlucky fate,
Made a daft vow: —-0 but ane be a beast
That makes rash aiths till he's afore the priest 
I dare na speak my mind, else a' the three,
But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy.'Tis sair to thole;-I'll try some witchcraft art,
To break with ane, and win the other's heart.
Here Mausy lives, a witch, that for sma' price
Can cast her cantrips, and give me advice.
She can o'ercast the night, and cloud the moon,
And mnak the deils obedient to her crune.




24         THE  GENTLE SHEPHERD.
At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yards she raves,
And howks unchristen'd we'ans out of their graves;
Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow,
Rins withershins about the hemlock low;
And seven times does her prayers backward pray,
Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay,
Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes;
Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes
Of ony ane she hates-and gars expire
mWith slaw and racking pains afore a fire;
Stuck fu' of prins, the devilish pictures melt,
The pain, by fowk they represent, is felt.
And yonder's Mause: Ay, ay, she kens fu' well,
When ane like me comes rinning to the deil.
She and her cat sit beeking in her yard,
To speak my errand, faith amaist I'm fear'd:
But I maun do't, tho' I should never thrive;
They gallop fast that deils and lasses drive.    [Exit
A CT IL.-SCENE IIH
A green kail-yard, a little fount,
Where water poplan springs;
There sits a wife with wrinkled-front,
And yet she spins and sings.
SANG IX.-Tane, Carle an the King come.
MAUSE Sings.
Peggy, now the IZing's come,
Peggy, now the Kring's come;




THE GENTLE S'HEPHERD.               25
Thou may dance, ansd I shall sinmg,
Peggy, since the lim'g's come.
Nae mair tthe hawzkies shalt thou mnill,
But change tih.y plaidcling-coat for sil,
And be a lady of that illk,
Vow, Peggy, since the KIing's come.
Enter BAULDY.
Baul. How does auld honest lucky of the glen?
Ye look baith hale and fere at threescore ten.
Jl~JTuse. E'en twining out a threed with little din,
And beeking my cauld limbs afore the sun.
What brings my bairn this gate sae air at morn?
Is there nae muck to lead?-to thresh nae corn?
Baul. Enough of baith:-But something that requires
Your helping hand, employs now all my cares.
Mause. My helping hand, alake! what can I do,
That underneath baith eild and poortith bow?
Baul. Ay, but ye're wise, and wiser far than we,
Or maist part of the parish tells a lie.
Mfause. Of what kind wisdom think ye I'm possest,
That lifts my character aboon the rest?
Bauld. The word that gangs, how ye're sae wise
and fell,
Ye'll may be take it ill gif I shou'd tell.
lifause. What fowk says of me, Bauldy, let me
hear;
Keep nathing up, ye nathing have to fear.
Baul. Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a',
That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw.
51




26        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn;
When last the burn bore down my Mither's yarn;
When Brawny elf-shot never mair came hamle;
When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae butter came;
When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked we'an
To a fairy turn'd, and cou'd na stand its lanle;
WVhen Watie wander'd ae night thro' the shaw,
And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw;
WVhen Mungo's mear stood still, and swat with fright,
WVhen he brought east the howdy under night;
When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green,
And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen:
You, Lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out,
And ilka ane here dreads you round about.
And sae they may that mint to do ye skaith:
_For me to wrang ye, I'll be very laith;
But when I neist make grots, I'll strive to please
You with a firlot of them mixt with pease.
jlause. I thank ye, lad; —now tell me your demand,
And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand.
Baul. Then, I like Peggy, —Neps is fond of me;Peggy likes Pate,-and Patie's bauld and slee, 
And loes sweet Meg.-But Neps I downa see.-_
Cou'd ye turn Patie's love to Neps, ancl than
Peggy's to me,-I'd be the happiest man.
Miase. I'll try my art to gar the bowls row right;
Sae gang your ways, and come again at night:'Gainst that time I'll some simple things prepare,
Worth all your pease and grots; tak ye nae care.
Baul. Well, Mause, I'll come, gif I the road can
find:




THE GENTLE STIEPHERD.               27
But if ye raise the deil, he'll raise the wind;
Syne rain and thunder may be, when'tis late,
Will make the night sae rough, I'll tine the gate.
We're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast,
0! will ye come like badrans, for a jest?
And there ye can our different'haviours spy:
There's nane shall ken o't there but you and i.
JlFause.'Tis like I may, —but let na on what's past'Tween you and me, else fear a kittle cast.
Baul. If I ought of your secrets e'er advance,
May ye ride on me ilka night to France.
[Exit BAULDY.
MAUSE her lane.
Hard luck, alake! when poverty and eild,
Weeds out of fashion, and a lanely beild,
With a sma' cast of wiles, should in a twitch,
Gi'e ane the hatefu' name a wrinkled Witch.
This fool imagines, as do mony sic,
That I'm a wretch in compact with Auld Nick;
Because by education I was taught
To speak and act aboon their common thought.
Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear;
Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me
here;
Nane kens but me,-and if the morn were come,
I'll tell them tales will gar them a' sing dumb. [Exit.




28         THE  GENTLE SHEPHERD.
ACT IL —SCENE IV.
Behind a tree, upon the plain,
Pate and his Peggy meet;
In love, without a vicious stain,
The bonny lass and chearfu' swain
Change vows and kisses sweet.
PATIE a(xd PEGGY.
Peggy.
0 PATIE, let me gang, I mauna stay,
We're baith cry'd hame, and Jenny she's away.
Pat. I'm laith to part sae soon; now we're alane,
And Roger he's awa with Jenny gane:
They're as content, for ought I hear or see,
To be alane themsells, I judge, as we.
iHere, where primroses thickest paint the green,
Hard by this little burnie let us lean.
Hark how the lavroclks chant aboon our heads!
How saft the westlin winds sough thro' the reeds.
Peg. The scented meadows,-birds, —and healthy
breeze,
For ought I ken, may mair than Peggy please.
Pat. Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind;
In speaking sac, ye ca' me dull and blind,
Gif I cou'd fancy ought's sac sweet or fair
As my dear Meg, or worthy of my care.
Thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier;
Thy cheek and breast the finest flowers appear.
Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes,
That warble through the mnerl or mavis' throats.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.               29
With thee I tent nae flowers that busk the field,
Or ripest berries that our mountains yield.
The sweetest fruits that hing upon the tree,
Are far inferior to a kiss of thee.
Peg. But Patrick, for some wicked end, may fleech,
And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach.
I dare na stay-ye joker, let me gang,
Anither lass may gar ye change your sang;
Your thoughts may flit, and I may thole the wrang.
Pat. Sooner a mother shall her fondness drap,
And wrang the bairn sits smiling on her lap;
The sun shall change, the moon to change shall cease,
The gaits to clim,-the sheep to yield the fleece,
Ere ought by me be either said or done,
Shall skaith our love; I swear by all aboon.
Peg. Then keep your aith:-But mony lads will
swear,
And be mansworn to twa in haff a year.
Now I believe ye like me wonder well;
But if a fairer face your heart shou'd steal,
Your Meg forsaken, bootless might relate,
How she was dauted anes by faithless Pate.
Pat. I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear;
Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year.
I mind it well, when thou cou'd'st hardly gang,
Or lisp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang
Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand,
Aft to the Tansy-know or Rashy-strand.
Thou smiling by my side, —I took delite,
To pu' the rashes green, with roots sae white,
Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd,
3*4




30         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
For thee I plet the flowry belt and snood.
Peg. When first thou gade with shepherds to the
hill,
And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill;
To bear a leglen was nae toil to me,
When at the bught at e'en I met with thee.
Pat. When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells
Bloom'd bonny on the moor and rising fells,
Nae birns, or briers, or whins e'er troubled me,
Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee.
Peg. W;hen thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the
stane,
And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain:
At all these sports thou still gave joy to me;
For nane can wrestle, run, or putt with thee.
Pat. Jenny sings saft the Broom of Cowden-knows,
And Rosie lilts the  ufilking of the Ews;
There's nane like Nansie, Jenny 1Nettles sings;
At turns in Hiaggy Lauder Marion dings:
But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter skill,
The Boat-man, or the Lass of Patie's ufill;
It is a thousand times mair sweet to me:
Tho' they sing well, they canna sing like thee.
Peg. How eith can lasses trow what they desire I
And roos'd by them we love, blaws up that fire:
But wha loves best, let time and carriage try;
Be constant, and my love shall time defy.
Be still as now, and a' my care shall be,
How to contrive what pleasant is for thee.
The foregoing, with a small variation, was sung at the acting, au
follows.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                  31
SANG X. —Tane, The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.
PEGGY.
JVWhen first my clear laddie gade to the green hill,
And I at ew-milkcing first sey'd my young skill,
To bear the milk-bowie, nae pain was to mne,
When I at the bughting Jbrgather'd with thee.
PATIE.
WIhen corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells
Bloom'd bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells,
Nace birns, briers, or breckens gave trouble to me,
If Ifoubnd the berries right ripen'dfor thee.
PEGGY.
When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane,
And came aff the victor, my heart wals ay fain;
Thy ilka sport manly gave pleasutre to me; 
For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee.
PATIE.
Our Jenny sings saftly the Cowden Broom-knows,
And Rosie lilts sweetly the Milking the Ews;
There's few Jenny Nettles like Nansie can sing;
At Throw the Wood Laddie, Bess gars our lugs ring.
But when my dear Peggy sings with better skill,
The Boat-man, Tweed-side, or the Lass of the Mill,'Tis many times sweeter and pleasing to me;
For tho' they sing nicely, they cannot like thee.




32         THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
PEGGY.
How easy can lasses trow what they desre!
And praises sae kindly encreases love's fire:
Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be,
To make nyself better and sweeter for thee.
Pat. Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave,
That little better than our nowt behave;
At nought they'll ferly;-senseless tales believe;
Be blyth for silly heghts, for trifles grieve:Sic ne'er cou'd win my heart, that kenna how,
Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true.
But thou, in better sense, without a flaw,
As in thy beauty, far excels them a',
Continue kind; and a' my care shall be,
HEow to contrive what pleasing is for thee.
Peg. Agreed;-buit harken! yon's auld aunty's
cry;
I ken they'll wonder what can make us stay.
Pat. And let them ferly.-Now, a kindly kiss,
Or five score good anes wad not be amiss;
And syne we'll sing the sang with tunefu' glee,
That I made up last owk on you and me.
Peg. Sing first, sync claim your hire.Pat.                   W ell, I agree.
SANG XI.-To its own Tune.
PATIE sings.
By the delicious wacrmness of thy mouth,
And rowing eyes that smiling tell the truth,




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                  33
I guess, my lassie, that as well as J,
You're made for love; and why should ye deny?
PEGGY sings.
But ken ye, lad, gin we confess o'er soon,
Ye think us cheap, and syne the wooing's done?
The maiden that o'er quickly tines her power,
Like unripe fruit, will taste but hard and sowr.
PATIE sings.
But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree,
Their sweetness they may tine; and sae may ye.
Red cheeked you completely ripe appear;
And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang haif year.
PEGGY singing, falls into PATIE'S arms.
Then dinna pu' me, gently thus Ifa'
Into my Patie's arms, for good and a'.
But stint your wishes to this kind embrace;
And mint naefarther till we've got the grace.
PATIE, with his left hand about her waste.
O charming armfu'! hence ye cares away!
i'll kiss my treasure a' the live-lang day;
All night I'll dream my kisses o'er again,
Till that day come that ye'll be a' my ain.
Sung by both.
Sun, gallqop down the westlin skies,
Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise;




34         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
O lash your steeds, post time away,
And haste about our bridal day:
And if ye're wearied, honest light,
Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night.
[Exeunt.
End of the SEcOND ACT.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                       35
ACT THIRD.
SCEIVE IL
Now turn your eyes beyond yon spreading line,
And tent a man whase beard seems bleech'd with time;
An elvand fills his hand, his habit mean:
Nae doubt ye'll think he has a pedlar been.
But whisht! it is the knight in masquerade,
That comes hid in this cloud to see his lad.
Observe h<ow pleas'd the loyal sufferer moves
Thro' his auld av'news, anes delightfu' groves.
SIR lWILLIAM sol0s.
THE gentleman thus hid in low disguise,'ll for a space unknown delight mine eyes,
With a full view of every fertile plain,
Which once I lost, —which now are mine again.
Yet'midst my joys, some prospects pain renew,
Whilst I my once fair seat in ruins view.
Yonder, ah me! it desolately stands,
Without a roof; the gates faln from  their bands;
The casements all broke down; no chimney left;
The naked walls of tap'stry all bereft:
My stables and pavilions, broken walls!
That with each rainy blast decaying falls:
My gardens, once adorn'd the most compleat,
With all that nature, all that art makes sweet;




36        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
WVhere, round the figur'd green, and peeble walks,
The dewy flowers hung nodding on their stalks:
But, overgrown with nettles, docks and brier,
No jaccacinths or eglintines appear.
How do those ample walls to ruin yield,
Where peach and nect'rine branches found a beild,
And bask'd in rays, which early did produce
Fruit fair to view, delightfu' in the use!
All round in gaps, the most in rubbish ly,
And from what stands the wither'd branches fly.
These soon shall be repair'd: —And now my joy
Forbids all grief, —when I'm to see my Boy,
My only prop, and object of my care,
Since Heaven too soon call'd hame his Mother fair.
Him, ere the rays of reason clear'd his thought,
I secretly to faithful Symon brought,
And charg'd him strictly to conceal his birth,'Till we should see what changing times brought forth.
Hlid from himself, he starts up by the dawn,
And ranges careless o'er the height and lawn,
After his fleecy charge, serenely gay,
With other shepherds whistling o'er the day.
Thrice happy life! that's from ambition free;
Remov'd from crowns and courts, how chearfully
A quiet contented mortal spends his time
In hearty health, his soul unstain'd with crime!
Or sung as followUs.
SANG XII.-T-ane,  Iappy Clown.
Hid from himsel/j,now by/ the dawn,
_He starts as fresh as roses blawun;




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                    37
And ranges o'er the heights and lawn,
After his bleeting flocks.
Healthful, and innocently gay,
He chants and whistles out the day;
Untaught to smile, and then betray,
Like courtly weathercocks.
Life happy, from ambition free,
Envy, and vile hypocrisie,
WThere truth and love with joy agree,
Unsully'd with a crime:
Unmov'd with what disturbs the great,
In propping of their pride and state,
He lives, and unafraid offate,
Contented spends his timne.
Now tow'rds good Symon's house I'll bend my way,
And see what makes yon gamboling to day,
All on the green, in a fair wanton ring,
My youthful tenants gayly dance and sing.         [Exit.
A CT II.-S CENE I.'Tis Symon's house, please to step in,
And vissy't round and round;
There's nought superfluous to give pain,
Or costly to be found.
Yet all is clean: a clear peat-ingle
Glances amidst the floor;
The green-horn spoons, beech-luggies mingle,
On skelfs foregainst the door.
4




38         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
While the young brood sport on the green,
The anld anes think it best,
With the Brown Cow to clear their een,
Snuff, crack, and take their rest,
SYMON,7 GLAUD, and ELSPA.
Glauztd.
WE anes were young our sells-I like to see
The bairns bob round with other merrilie.
Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a strapan lad,
And better looks than his I never bade.
Amang our lads, he bears the gree awa',
And tells his tale the cleverest of them a'.
Els. Poor man I! —he's a great comfort to us baith.
God mak him good, and hide him ay frae skaith.
He is a bairn, I'll say't, well worth our care,
That ga'e us ne'er vexation late or air.
Glaud. I trow, goodwife, if I be not mistane, }
He seems to be with Peggy's beauty tane,
And troth, my niece is a right dainty we'an,
As ye well ken: a bonnier needna be,
Nor better, —be't she were nae kin to me.
Sym. Ha! Glaud, I doubt that ne'er will be a
match;
My Patie's wild, and will be ill to catch:
And or he were, for reasons I'll no tell,
I'd rather be mixt with the mools my sell.
Glaud. What reason can ye have?  There's nane,
I'm sure,
Unless ye may cast up that she's but poor:
But gif the lassie marry to my mind,
I'll be to her as my ain Jenny kind.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                39
Fourscore of breeding ews of my ain birn,
Five ky that at ae milking fills a kirn,
I'll gi'e to Peggy that day she's a bride;
By and attour, gif my good luck abide,
Ten lambs at spaining-time, as lang's I live,
And twa quey cawfs I'll yearly to them give.
Els. Ye offer fair, kind Gland; but dinna speer
What may be is not fit ye yet should hear.
Sym. Or this day eight days likely he shall learn,
That our denial disna slight his bairn.
Glaud. Well, nae mair o't, — come, gie's the other bend;
We'll drink their healths, whatever way it end.
[Their healths gae round.
Sym. But will ye tell me, Glaud,-by some'tis said,
Your niece is but a Fundling that was laid
Down at your hallon-side, ae morn in May,
Right clean row'd up, and bedded on dry hay?
Glaud. That clatteran Madge, my titty, tells sic
flaws,
When e'er our Meg her cankart humour gaws.
Enter JENNY.
Jen. 0 father! there's an auld man on the green,
The fellest fortune-teller e'er was seen:
He tents our loofs, and sync whops out a book,
Turns o'er the leaves, and gie's our brows a look;
Sync tells the oddest tales that e'er ye heard.
His head is gray, and lang and gray his beard.
Sym. Gae bring him in; we'll hear what he can say:
Nane shall gang hungry by my house to day.
[Exit JENNY.




40        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
But for his telling fortunes, troth I fear,
He kens nae mair of that than my gray mare.
Glaud. Spae-men! the truth of a' their saws I doubt;
For greater liars never ran there out.
Returns JENNY, bringing in SIR WILLIAM; with them?
PATIE.
Sym. Ye're welcome, honest carle;-here take a
seat.
Sir Will. I give ye thanks, Goodman; I'se no be
blate.
Glaud. [drinks.] Come t'ye, friend: —How far came
ye the day?
Sir Will. I pledge ye, nibour: —E'en but little way:
Rousted with eild, a wee piece gate seems lang;
Twa miles or three's the maist that I dow gang.
qSyn. Ye're welcome here to stay all night with me,
And take sic bed and board as we can gi' ye.
Sir Will. That's kind unsought.-Well, gin ye have
a bairn
That ye like well, and wad his fortune learn,
I shall employ the farthest of my skill,
To spae it faithfully, be't good or ill.
Sym. [pointing to Patie.] Only that lad;-alake! I
have nae mae,
Either to make me joyful now, or wae.
Sir Ui'll. Young man, let's see your hand; —what
gars ye sneer?
Pat. Because your skill's but little worth I fear.
Sir Will. Ye cut before the point.-But, billy, bide,
I'll wager there's a mouse mark on your side.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                41,
Els. Betooch-us-to! and well I wat that's true:
Awa, awa! the deil's o'er grit wi' you.
Four inch aneath his oxter is the mark,
Scarce ever seen since he first wore a sark.,Sir IVll. I'll tell ye mair, if this young lad be
spar'd
But a short while, he'll be a braw rich laird.
Els. A laird i Hear ye, Goodman! —what think ye
now?
Symn. I dinna ken: Strange auld man! What art
thou?
Fair fa' your heart;'tis good to bode of wealth:
Come turn the timmer to laird Patie's health.
[PATIE'S health gaes round.
Pat. A laird of twa good whistles, and a kent,
Twa curs, my trusty tenants, on the bent,
Is all my great estate —and like to be:
Sae, cunning carle, ne'er break your jokes on me.
Sym. Whisht, Patie, —let the man look o'er your
hand,
Aftimes as broken a ship has come to land.
[SIR WILLIAM loo00s a little at PATIE'S hand, then
counterfeits falling into a trance, while they endeavour to lay him7 right.]
Els. Preserve's!-the man's a warlock, or possest
With some nae good,-or second sight, at least:
Where is he now?
Glaud.            He's seeing a' that's done
In ilka place, beneath or yont the moon.
Els. These second sighted fowk, his peace be herel
See things far aft, and things to come, as clear
4*




42        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
As I can see my thumb.-Wow, can he tell
(Speer at him, soon as he comes to himsell)
How soon we'll see Sir William? Whisht, he heaves,
And speaks out broken words like ane that raves.
Sym. He'll soon grow better; —Elspa, haste ye, gae,
And fill him up a tass of Usquebae.
Sir WILLIAM starts up, and speaks.
A Knight that for a Lyon fought,
Against a herd of bears,
Was to lang toil and trouble brought,
In which some thousands shares.
But now again the Lyon rares,
And joy spreads o'er the plain:
The Lyon has defeat the bears,
The Knight returns again.
That Knight, in a few days, shall bring
A Shepherd frae the fauld,
And shall present him to his King,
A subject true and bauld.
He Mr. Patrick shall be call'd:
All you that hear me now,
May well believe what I have tald;
For it shall happen true.
Syrm. Friend, may your spaeing happen soon and
weel;
But, faith, I'm redd you've bargain'd with the deil,
To tell some tales that fowks wad secret keep:
Or do ye get them tald you in your sleep?




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                43
Sir Will. Howe'er I get them, never fash your beard;
Nor come I to redd fortunes for reward:
But I'll lay ten to ane with ony here,
That all I prophesy shall soon appear.
Sym. You prophesying fowks are odd kind men!
They're here that ken, and here that disna ken,
The wimpled meaning of your unco tale,
Whilk soon will mak a noise o'er moor and dale.
Glaud.'Tis nae sma' sport to hear how Sym believes,
And takes't for gospel what the spae-man gives
Of flawing fortunes, whilk he evens to Pate:
But what we wish, we trow at ony rate.
Sir W'll. Whisht, doubtfu' carle; for ere the sun
HIas driven twice down to the sea,
What I have said ye shall see done
In part, or nae mair credit me.
Glaud. Well, be't sae, friend, I shall say nathing
mair;
But I've twa sonsy lasses young and fair,
Plump ripe for men: I wish ye cou'd foresee
Sic fortunes for them might prove joy to me.
Sir Will. Nae mair thro' secrets can I sift,
Till darkness black the bent:
I have but anes a day that gift;
Sae rest a while content.
Syra. Elspa, cast on the claith, fetch butt some
meat,
And, of your best, gar this auld stranger eat.
Sir Will. Delay a while your hospitable care;
I'd rather enjoy this evening calmn and fair,




44          THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
Around yon ruin'd tower, to fetch a walk
WVith you, kind friend, to have some private talk.
Srym. Soon as you please I'll answer your desire:And, Glaud, you'll take your pipe beside the fire;
WVe'll but gae round the Place, and soon be back,
Syne sup together, and tak our pint, and crack.
Glaud. I'11 out a while, and see the young anes
play.
My heart's still light, abeit my locks be gray.
[Exeunt.
A C T I~[. -SCENE II.
Jenny pretends ain errand hame,
Young Roger draps the rest,
To whisper out his inelting flame,
And thow his lassie's breast.:
Behind a bush, well hid frae sight, they meet:
See Jenny's laughing; Roger's like to greet.
Poor Shepherd!
ROGER and JENNY.
Roger.
DEAR Jenny, I wad speak to ye, wad ye let;
And yet I ergh, ye're ay sae scornfu' set.
Jen. And what would Roger say, if he could speak?
Am I oblig'd to guess what ye're to seek?
Rog. Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I grein,
Baith by my service, sighs, and langing een.
And I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your scorn;
Ye're never frae my thoughts baith ev'n and morn.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.               45
Ah! cou'd I loo ye less, I'd happy be;
But happier far, cou'd ye but fancy me.
Jen. And wha kens, honest lad, but that I
may;
Ye canna say that e'er I said ye nay.
Rog. Alake! my frighted heart begins to fail,
When e'er I mint to tell ye out my tale,
_For fear some tighter lad, mair rich than I,
I:Has win your love, and near your heart may ly.
Jen. I loo my father, cousin Meg, I love;
But to this day, nae man my mind could move:
Except my kin, ilk lad's alike to me;
And frae ye all I best had keep me free.
Rog. How lang, dear Jenny? —Sayna that again;
What pleasure canll ye tak in giving pain?
I'm glad, however, that ye yet stand free:
Wha kens but ye may rue, and pity me?
Jen. Ye have my pity else, to see ye set
On that whilk makes our sweetness soon forget.
Wow! but we're bonny, good, and every thing;
How sweet we breathe, whene'er we kiss, or sing!
But we're nae sooner fools to give consent,
Than we our daffine and tint power repent:
When prison'd in four waws, a wife right tame,
Altho' the first, the greatest drudge at hame.
Rog. That only happens, when for sake of gear,
Ane wales a wife, as he wad buy a mear;
Or when dull parents bairns together bind
Of different tempers, that can ne'er prove kind.
But love, true downright love, engages me,
Tho' thou should scorn, —still to delight in thee.




46        TIE  GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Jen. What suggar'd words frae wooers lips can fa' 
But girning marriage comes and ends them a'.
I've seen with shining fair the morning rise,
And soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies.
I've seen the silver spring a while rin clear,
And soon in mossy puddles disappear.
The bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may smile;
But soon contentions a' their joys beguile.
-Rog. I've seen the morning rise with fairest light,
The day unclouded sink in calmest night.
I've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain,
Increase and join the ocean without stain.
The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile;
Rejoice thro' life, and all your fears beguile.
Jen. Were I but sure you lang wou'd love maintain,
The fewest words my easy heart could gain:
For I maun own, since now at last you're free,
Altho' I jok'd, I lov'd your company;
And ever had a warmness in my breast,
That made ye dearer to me than the rest.
-Rog. I'm happy now! o'er happy! had my head!This gush of pleasure's like to be my dead.
Come to my arms! or strike me! I'm all fir'd
With wondring love! let's kiss till we be tir'd.
Kiss, kiss! we'll kiss the sun and starns away,
And ferly at the quick return of day!
O Jenny! let my arms about thee twine,
And briss thy bonny breasts and lips to mine.
Which may be sung as follows.




THE  GENTLE SIHEPHERD.               47
SANG XIII.-Taune, Leith Wynd.
JENNY.
Were I assur'd you'd constant prove,
You should nae mair complain;
The easy maid, beset with love,
Few words will quickly gain:
For I must own, now since you're free,
This too fond heart of mine
Has lang, a black-sole true to thee,
Wish'd to be pair'd with thine.
ROGER.
I'm happy now; ah! let my head
Upon thy breast recline;
The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead;
Is Jenny then sae kind?
0! let me briss thee to my heart,
And round my arms entwine:
Delytfu' thought! we'll never part:
Come press thy lips to mine.
Jen. With equal joy my easy heart gi'es way,
To own thy well try'd love has won the day.
Now by these warmest kisses thou has tane,
Swear thus to love me, when by vows made ane.
Rog. I swear by fifty thousand yet to come,
Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb,
There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife,
If you agree with me to lead your life.
Jen. Well, I agree:-:Neist, to my parent gae,
Get his consent; —he'll hardly say ye nay.




48         THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Ye have what will commend ye to him well,
Auld fowks, like them, that wants na milk and meal.
SANG XIV.-T-ine, O'er Bogie.
Well, I agree, ye're sure of me;
Next to qy father gae:
Make him content to give consent,
He'll hardly say you nay:
For you have what he wad be at,
And will commend you well,
Since parents auld think love grows cauld,
Wthere bairns want milk and meal.
Shou'd he deny, -I care na by,
fhe'd contradict in vain;
Tho' a' my kin had said and sworn,
But thee I will have nane.
Then never range, nor learn to change,
Like those in high degree;
And if ye prove faithful in love,
You'll find nae faut in me.
Rog. My faulds contain twice fifteen forrow nowt,
As mony newcal in my byars rowt;
Five pack of woo I can at Lammas sell,
Shorn frae my bob-tail'd bleeters on the fell:
Good twenty pair of blankets for our bed,
With meikle care, my thrifty mither made.
Ilk thing that makes a heartsome house and tight,
Was still her care, my father's great delight.




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                 49
They left me all; which now gie's joy to me,
Because I can give a', my dear, to thee:
And had I fifty times as meikle mair,
Nane but my Jenny should the samen skair.
Mhy love and all is yours; now had them fast,
And guide them as ye like, to gar them last.
Jen. I'll do my best. —But see wha comes this way,
Patie and Meg;-besides, I mauna stay:
Let's steal frae ither now, and meet the morn;
If we be seen, we'll drie a deal of scorn.
Rog. To where the saugh-trees shades the menninpool,
I'll frae the hill come down, when day grows cool:
Keep triste, and meet me there; —there let us meet,
To kiss, and tell our love; —there's nought sae sweet.
A CT IIL. —SCENE I@.
This scene presents the Knight and Sym
Within a Gallery of the Place,
Where all looks ruinous and grim;
Nor has the Baron shown his face,
But joking with his shepherd leel,
Aft speers the gate he kens fit' well.
SIR WILLIAM and SYMON.
Sir William.
To whom belongs this house so much decay'd?
Sym. To ane that lost it, lending generous aid,
5




50        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
To bear the Head up, when rebellious Tail
Against the laws of nature did prevail.
Sir William Worthy is our master's name,
Whilk fills us all with joy, now He's come hame.
(Sir William draps his masking beard,
AS'ymon transported sees
The welcome K~night, with fond regard,
And graslps him round the knees.)
My master! my dear master!-do I breathe,
To see him healthy, strong, and free frae skaith;
Return'd to cheatr his wishing tenants sight,
To bless his son, my charge, the world's delight!
Sir MVil1. Rise, faithful Symon; in my arms enjoy
A place, thy due, kind guardian of my boy:
I came to view thy care in this disguise,
And am confirm'd thy conduct has been wise;
Since still the secret thou'st securely seal'd,
And ne'er to him his real birth reveal'd.
Sym. The due obedience to your strict command
Was the first lock;-neist, my ain judgment fand
Out reasons plenty: since, without estate,
A youth, tho' sprung frae kings, looks baugh and
blate.
Sir lYill. And aften vain and idly spend their time,'Till grown unfit for action, past their prime,
Hang on their friends —which gi'es their sauls a cast,
That turns them downright beggars at the last.
Sym. Now well I wat, Sir, ye have spoken true;
For there's laird Kytie's son, that's loo'd by few:




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                51
His father steght his fortune in his wame,
And left his heir nought but a gentle name.
He gangs about sornan frae place to place,
As scrimp of manners, as of sense and grace;
Oppressing all as punishment of their sin,
That are within his tenth degree of kin:
Rins in ilk trader's debt,.wha's sae unjust
To his ain fanm'ly, as to give him trust.
Sir 1'll. Such useless branches of a common-wealth,
Should be lopt off, to give a state mair health.
Uunworthy bare reflection. —Symon, run
O'er all your observations on my son;
A parent's fondness easily finds excuse:
But do not with indulgence truth abuse.
Syrn. To speak his praise, the langest simmer day
Wad be o'er short,-cou'd I them right display.
In word and deed he can sae well behave,
That out of sight he runs before the lave;
And when there's e'er a quarrel or contest,
Patrick's made judge to tell whase cause is best;
And his decreet stands good; —he'll gar it stand:
Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting hand;
With a firm look, and a commanding way,
He gars the proudest of our herds obey.
Sir i'Vll. Your tale much pleases;-my good friend,
proceed:
What learning has he? Can he write and read?
Symn. Baith wonder well; for, troth, I didna spare
To gi'e him at the school enough of lair;
And he delites in books: —Ie reads, and speaks
With fowks that ken them, Latin words and Greeks.




52        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Sir IVill. Where gets he books to read? —and of
what kind?
Tho' some give light, some blindly lead the blind.
Synm. Whene'er he drives our sheep to Edinburgh
port,
He buys some books of history, sangs or sport:
Nor does he want of them a rowth at will,
And carries ay a poutchfu' to the hill.
About ane Shakspear, and a famous Ben,
He aften speaks, and ca's them best of men.
How sweetly IIawthrenden and Stirling sing, }
And ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his king,
He kens fu' well, and gars their verses ring.
I sometimes thought he made o'er great a frase,
About fine poems, histories and plays.
When I reprov'd him anes, —a book he brings,
With this, quoth he, on braes I crack with kings.
Sir Will. He answer'd well; and much ye glad my
ear,
When such accounts I of my shepherd hear.
Reading such books can raise a peasant's mind
Above a lord's that is not thus inclin'd.
Sym. What ken we better, that sae sindle look,
Except on rainy Sundays, on a book;
When we a leaf or twa haff read haff spell,'Till a' the rest sleep round as well's our sell?
Sir Witill.  ell jested, Symon: —But one question
moreI'll only ask ye now, and then give o'er.
The youth's arriv'd the age when little loves
Flighter around young hearts like cooing doves:




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                53
Has nae young lassie, with inviting mien,
And rosy cheek, the wonder of the green,
Engag'd his look, and caught his youthfu' heart?
Synm. I fear'd the warst, but kend the smallest part,'Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet,
With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet:
I had my fears; but now have nought to fear,
Since like your sell your son will soon appear.
A gentleman, enrich'cl with all these charms,
May bless the fairest best born lady's arms.
Sir Wi11. This night must end his unambitious fire,
WVhen higher views shall greater thoughts inspire.
Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me;
None but your self shall our first meeting see.
Yonder's my horse and servants nigh at hand,
They come just at the time I gave command;
Straight in my own apparel I'll go dress:
Now ye the secret may to all confess.
Sym. With how much joy I on this errand flee!
There's nane can know, that is not downright me.
[Exit SYMON,
Sir WILLIAM solUS.
When the event of hopes successfully appears,
One happy hour cancells the toil of years.
A thousand toils are lost in Lethe's stream,
And cares evanish like a morning dream;
mWhen wish'd for pleasures rise like morning light,
The pain that's past enhances the delight.
These joys I feel that words can ill express,
I ne'er had known without my late distress.




54         THE  GENTLE  SHIEPHERD.
[But from his rustick business and love,
I must in haste my Patrick soon remove,
To courts and camps that may his soul improve.
Like the rough diamond, as it leaves the mine,
Only in little breakings shews its light,
Till artfu' polishing has made it shine:
Thus education makes the genius bright.
Or sung as follows.
SANG XV. —ane, Wat ye wha I met Yestreen.
Now from rusticity and love,
Whose flames but over lowly burn,
iMy gentle shepherd must be drove,
Hiis soul must take another turn:
As the rough diamondfrom the mine,
5In breakings only shews its light,
Till polish.ing has made it shine:
Thus learning mnakes the genius brzqht. [.Exit
End of the THIRD ACT.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.               55
ACT FOURTH.
SCENE I.
The scene describ'd in former page,
Glaud's onstead,-]Enter Mifuse and (fadlc.
MAUSE and MADGE.
Mause.
OUR laird's come hame! and owns young Pate his heir!
That's news indeed!
Mad.        As true as ye stand there.
s they were dancing all in Symon's yard,';ir William, like a warlock, with a beard
I ive nives in length, andr'vice as driven snaw,
i emand  m-, ~aulle, cry'd, Had ye merry a'.
WV\e ferly'd meikle at his unco look,
While frae his pouch he whirled forth a book.
As we stood round about him on the green,
He view'd us a', but fix'd on Pate his een;
Then pawkily pretended he cou'd spae,
Yet for his pains and skill wad nathing ha'e.
Mimase. Then sure the lasses, and ilk gaping coof,
Wad rin about him, and had out their loof.
Mad. As fast as flaes skip to the tate of woo,
Whilk slee Tod Lawrie hads without his mow,




56        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
When he to drown them, and his hips to cool,
In simmer days slides backward in a pool:
In short he did, for Pate, braw things fortell,
Without the help of conjuring or spell.
At last, when well diverted, he withdrew,
Pow'd aff his beard to Symon, Symon knew
His welcome master;- roundl his knees he gat,
Hang at his coat, and sync for blythness grat.
Patrick was sent for;-happy lad is he!
Symon tald Elspa, Elspa tald it me.
Ye'll hear out a' the secret story soon;
And troth'tis e'en right odd when a' is done,
To think how Symon ne'er afore wad tell,
Na, no sae mneikle as to Pate himsell.
Our Meg, poor thing, alake! has lost her jo.
iMause. It may be sace; wha kens? and may be no.
To lift a love that's rooted, is great pain;
Even kings have tane a queen out of the plain:
And what has been before, may be again.
Mad. Sic nonsense! love tak root, but tocher-good,'Tween a herd's bairn, and ane of gentle blood!
Sic fashions in King Bruce's days might be;
But siccan ferlies now we never see.
Miause. Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may gain; 1
Yonder he comes, and wow but he looks fain!
Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy's now his ain.
Hrad. He get her! slaverin doof; it sets him weil
To yoke a plough where Patrick thought to till.
Gif I were Meg, I'd let young Master see —
Mause. Ye'd be as dorty in your choice as he:
And so wad I. But whisht, here Bauldy comes.




THE GENTLE SHEPIHERD.               57
Enter BAULDY singing.
Jenny said to Jocky, gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad, I'll be thle lass mysell;
Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Ye're welcomer to tack me than to let me be.
I trow sae. —Lasses will come to at last,
Tho' for a while they maun their snaw-ba's cast.
Ja-use. Well, Bauldy, how gaes a'?Baul.          Faith unco right:
I hope we'll a' sleep sound but ane this night.
Mifd. And wha's the unlucky ane, if we may ask?
Baul. To find out that, is nae difficult task;
Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair
On Pate, turn'd Patrick, and Sir William's heir.
Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be,
While Meg's in dumps, put in a word for me.
I'll be as kind as ever Pate could prove;
Less wilful, and ay constant in my love.
ilad. As Neps can witness, and the bushy thorn,
Where mony a time to her your heart was sworn:
Fy! Bauldy, blush, and vows of love regard;
What other lass will trow a mansworn herd?
The curse of Heaven hings ay aboon their heads,
That's ever guilty of sic sinfu' deeds.
I'll ne'er advise my niece sae gray a gate;
Nor will she be advis'd, fu' well I wate.
Baul. Sace gray a gate! mansworn! and a' the rest:
Ye leed, auld Roudes —and, in faith, had best
Eat in your words; else I shall gar ye stand
With a het face afore the haly band.




58        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Mad. Ye'll gar me stand 1 ye sheveling-gabit brock;
Speak that again, and, trembling, dread my rock,
And ten sharp nails, that when my hands are in,
Can flyp the skin o'ye'r cheeks out o'er your chin.
Bcaul. I tak ye witness, Mause, ye heard her say,
That I'm mansworn:-I winna let it gae.
Mad. Ye're witness too, he ca'd me bonny names,
And should be serv'd as his good breeding claims.
Ye filthy dog! -_ 
[Flees to his hair like a ftary.-A stout battle.Mlause endeavours to reddc them.
Mause. Let gang your grips, fy, Madge! howt,
Bauldy leen:
I wadna wish this tulzie had been seen;'Tis sae daft like.
[Bauldy gets out of lladge's clutc/hes with a
bleeding nose.
Mad.      7Tis dafter like to thole
An ether-cap, like him, to blaw the coal:
It sets him well, with vile unscrapit tongue,
To cast up whether I be auld or young;
They're aulder yet than I have married been,
And or they died their bairns' bairns have seen.
Mause. That's true; and Bauldy ye was far to blame, )
To ca' Madge ought but her ain christen'd name.
Baul. My lugs, my nose, and noddle finds the same.
Mad. Auld Roudes! filthy fallow; I shall auld ye.
JAlause. Elowt no!-ye'll e'en be friends with honest
Bauldy.
Come, come, shake hands; this maun nae farder gae:
Ye maun forgi'e'm. I see the lad looks wae.




THE GENTLE SIEPHERD.               59
Bcul. In troth now, Mause, I have at Madge nae
spite:
But she abusing first, was a' the wite
Of what has happen'd: And should therefore crave
My pardon first, and shall acquittance have.
Mad. I crave your pardon! Gallows-face, gae greet,
And own your faut to her that ye wad cheat:
Gae, or be blasted in your health and gear,'Till ye learn to perform, as well as swear.
Vow, and lowp back!-was e'er the like heard tell?
Swith, tak him deil; he's o'er lang out of hell.
Baul. [running off] His presence be about us 
Curst were he
That were condemn'd for life to live with thee.
[Exit BAULDY.
Mfad. [laughing.] I think I've towzl'd his harigalds
a wee;
He'll no soon grein to tell his love to me.
He's but a rascal that wad mint to serve
A lassie sace, he does but ill deserve.
Mause. Ye towin'd him tightly, —I commend ye
for't;
His blooding snout gave me nae little sport:
For this forenoon he had that scant of grace,
And breeding baith,-to tell me to my face,
He hop'd I was a Witch, and wadna stand,
To lend him in this case my helping hand.
Mad. A Witch!-How had ye patience this to bear,
And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear?
fause. Auld wither'd hands, and feeble joints like
mine,




60         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
Obliges fowk resentment to decline;
Till aft'tis seen, when vigour fails, then we
With cunning can the lake of pith supplie.
Thus I pat aff revenge till it was dark,
Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark:
I'm sure he'll keep his triste; and I came here
To seek your help, that we the fool may fear.
ifad. And special sport we'll have, as I protest;
Ye'll be the Witch, and I shall play the Ghaist;
A linen sheet wond round me like ane dead,
I'll cawk my face, and grane, and shake my head.
We'll fleg him sae, he'll mint nae mair to gang
A conjuring, to do a lassie wrang.
ilause. Then let us go; for see,'tis hard on night,
The westlin cloud shines red with setting light.
[Exeunt.
A CT IV. —SCYEAIE IL
When birds begin to nod upon the bough,
And the green swaird grows damp with falling dew,
While good Sir William is to rest retir'd,
The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir'd,
Walks through the broom with Roger ever leel,
To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak farewell.
PATIE and ROGER.
Roger.
Wow! but I'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light.
0, Mr. Patrick! ay your thoughts were right:




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.               61
Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we,
That nathing ha'e to brag of pedigree.
My Jenny now, wha brak my heart this morn,
Is perfect yielding,-sweet,-and nae mair scorn.
I spake my mind-she heard-I spake again,
She smil'd-I kiss'd-I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.
Pat. I'm glad to hear't —But 0 my change this day
Heaves up my joy, and yet I'm sometimes wae.
I've found a father, gently kind as brave,
And an estate that lifts me'boon the lave.
WVith looks all kindness, words that love confest;
HIe all the father to my soul exprest,
TWhile close h l held me to his manly breast.
Such were the eyes, he said, thus smil'd the mouth
Of thy lov'd mother, blessing of my youth;
Who set too soon I-And while he praise bestow'd,
Adown his graceful cheek a torrent flow'd.
My new-born joys, and this his tender tale,
Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail:
That speechless lang, my late kend Sire I view'd,
While gushing tears my panting breast bedew'd.
Unusual transports made my head turn round, )
Whilst I myself with rising raptures found    f
The happy son of ane sae much renown'd.
But he has heard — too faithful Symon's fear
Has brought my love for Peggy to his ear:
Which he forbids.-Ah! this confounds my peace,
While thus to beat, my heart shall sooner cease.
Rog. How to advise ye, troth I'm at a stand:
But were't my case, ye'd clear it up aff hand.
Pat. Duty, and haflen reason plead his cause:
6




62         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
But what cares love for reason, rules and laws?
Still in my heart my shepherdess excells,
And part of my new happiness repells.
Or sung as follows.
SANG XVI.-Thne, Kirk wad let me be.
Duty and part of reason
Plead strong on the parent's side,
WThich love so superior calls treason;
The strongest must be obey'd:
For now, tho' I'm  one of the gentry,
My constancy falshood repells;
For change in my heart has no entry,
Still there my dear Peggy excells..og. Enjoy them baith.-Sir William will be won:
Your Peggy's bonny;-you're his only son.
Pat. She's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love;
And frae these bands nae change my mind shall move.
I'll wed nane else; thro' life I will be true:
But still obedience is a parent's due.
Rog. Is not our master and yoursell to stay
Amlang us here?-or are ye gawn away
To London court, or ither far aff parts,
To leave your ain poor us with broken hearts?
Pat. To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we advance,
To London neist, and afterwards to France,
Where I must stay some years, and learn —to dance, 
And twa three other monky-tricks.-That done,
I come hame struting in my red-heel'd shoon.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                63
Then'tis design'd, when I can well behave,
That I maun be some petted thing's dull slave,
For some few bags of cash, that I wat weel
I nae mair need nor carts do a third wheel.
But Peggy, dearer to me than my breath,
Sooner than hear sic news, shall hear my death.
Rog. They twha have just enoztgh, can soundy sleep;
The o'erconme onlyfashesfowk to keep.
Good Mr. Patrick, tak your ain tale hame.
Pat. What was my morning thought, at night's
the same.
The poor and rich but differ in the name.
Content's the greatest bliss we can procure
Frae'boon the lift.-Without it kings are poor.
Rog. But an estate like your's yields braw content,
When we but pick it scantly on the bent:
Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, and red wine,
Good chear, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine;
Obeysant servants, honour, wealth and ease:
Wha's no content with these, are ill to please.
Pat. Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss;
But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er the bliss.
The passions rule the roast; —and, if they're sowr,
Like the lean ky, will soon the fat devour.
The spleen, tint honour; and affronted pride,
Stang like the sharpest goads in gentry's side.
The gouts and gravels, and the ill disease,
Are frequentest with fowk o'erlaid with ease;
While o'er the moor the shepherd, with less care,
Enjoys his sober wish, and halesome air.
Rog. Lord, man! I wonder ay, and it delights




64         THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
My heart, whene'er I hearken to your flights.
How gat ye a' that sense, I fain wad lear,
That I may easier disappointments bear?
Pat. Frae books, the wale of books, I gat some skill;
These best can teach what's real good and ill.
Ne'er grudge ilk year to ware some stanes of cheese,
To gain these silent friends that ever please.
Rog. I'll do't, and ye shall tell me which to buy:
Faith I'se ha'e books, tho' I should sell my ky.
But now let's hear how you're design'd to move,
Between Sir WTilliarn's will, and Peggy's love?
Pat. Then here it lyes; His will maun be obey'd; }
My vows I'll keep, and she shall be my bride:
But I some time this last design maun hide.
Keep you the secret close, and leave me here;
I sent for Peggy, yonder comes my dear.
Rog. Pleas'd that ye trust me with the secret, I
To wyle it frae me a' the deils defy.   [Exit ROGER.
Pat. [sol0uS] With what a struggle must I now impart
My father's will to her that hads my heart!
I ken she loves, and her saft saul will sink,
While it stands trembling on the hated brink
Of disappointment.- Heaven! support my fair,
And let her comfort claim your tender care.
Her eyes are red! —
Enter PEGGY.
My-     Peggy, why in tears?
Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears:
Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine.
Peq. I dare not think sae higlh: I now repine




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                65
At the unhappy chance, that made not me
A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.
Wha can, withoutten pain, see frae the coast
The ship that bears his all like to be lost?
Like to be carry'd, by some rever's hand,
Far frae his wishes, to some distant land?
Pat. Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains,
To raise thee up, or still attend these plains.
My father has forbid our loves, I own:
But love's superior to a parent's frown.
I falshood hate: Come, kiss thy cares away;
I ken to love, as well as to obey.
Sir William's generous; leave the task to me,
To make strict duty and true love agree.
Peg. Speak on I-speak ever thus, and stillmy grief;
But short I dare to hope the fond relief.
New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire,
That with nice air swims round in silk attire:
Then I, poor me!-with sighs may ban my fate,
When the young laird's nae mair my heartsome Pate:
Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest,
By the blyth shepherd that excell'd the rest:
Nae mair be envy'd by the tattling gang,
WVhen Patie kiss'd me, when I danc'd or sang:
Nae mair, alake! we'll on the meadow play!
And rin haff breathless round the rucks of hay;
As aftimes I have fled from thee right fain,
And fawn on purpose, that I might be tane.
Nae mair around the Foggy-know I'll creep,
To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep.
But hear my vow —'twill help to give me ease;




66         THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
May sudden death, or deadly sair disease,
And warst of ills attend my wretched life,
If ere to ane, but you, I be a wife.
Or sung asfollows.
SANG XVII.-T ue, Wae's my heart that we should sunder.
Speak on,-speak thus, and still my grief,
Hold up a heart that's sinking under
These fears, that soon will want relief
When Pate mustfrom his Peggy sunder.
A gentler face, and silk attire,
A lady rich in beauty's blossom,
Alake poor me! will now conspire
To steal thee from thy Peggy's bosom.
No more the shepherd, who excell'd
The rest, whose wit made them to wonder,
Shall now his Peggy's praises tell:
Ah! I can die, but never sunder.
Ye meadows where we often stray'd,
Ye banks where we were wont to wander,
Sweet-scented rucks, round which we play'd,
You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder.
Again, ah! shall I never creep
Around the Know with silent duty,
Kindly to watch thee, while asleep,
And wonder at thy manly beauty?
Hear, Heaven, while solemnly I vow,
Tho' thou shouldst prove a wand'ring lover,
Thro' life to thee Ishall rove true,
Nor be a wife to any other




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                67
Pat. Sure Heaven approves-and be assur'd of me,
I'll ne'er gang back of what I've sworn to thee:
And time, tho' time maun interpose a while,
And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle;
Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face,
If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place.
I'd hate my rising fortune, should it move
The fair foundation of our faithful love.
If at my foot were crowns and scepters laid,
To bribe my soul frae thee, delightful maid;
For thee I'd soon leave these inferior things
To sic as have the patience to be kings.
Wherefore that tear? Believe, and calm thy mind.
Peg. I greet for joy, to hear thy words sae kind.
When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk despair
Made me think life was little worth my care,
My heart was like to burst; but now I see
Thy generous thoughts will save thy love for me.;Vith patience then I'll wait each wheeling year,
Hope time away, till thou with joy appear;
And all the while I'll study gentler charms,
To make me fitter for my traveller's arms:
I'11 gain on uncle Glaud,-he's far frae fool,
And will not grudge to put me thro' ilk school;
Where I may manners learn
Or sung as follows.
SANG XVIII.-Tune, Tweedside.
When hope was quite sunk in despair,
My heart it was going to break;




68         THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
Mfy ife appear'd worthless my care,
But now I will save'tfor thy sake.
Where'er my love travels by day,
-Wherever he lodges by night,
With me his dear image shall stay,
And my soul keep him ever in sight.
With patience I'll wait the long year,
And study the gentlest charms;
Hope time away till thou appear,
To locc thee for ay in those arms.
Whil.st tho~u was a shepherd, I priz'd
No hqher clegree in''this life;
But now'1ll endeavour to rise
To a height is becoming thy wvfe.
For beauty that's only skin-deep,
lfust fade like the gowauns of HMay,
But inwardly rooted, will keep
For ever, witholut a decay.
LTor age, nor the chcanges of life,
Can quench the fair fire of love,
If virtue's ingrcain'd in the wife,
And the husband have sense to approve.
Pat.                  That's wisely said,
And what he wares that way shall be well paid.
Tho' without a' the little helps of art,
Thy native sweets might gain a prince's heart:
Yet now, lest in our station, we offend,
We must learn modes, to innocence unkend;
Affect aftimes to like the thing we hate,




THER  GENTLE SHEPHERD.              69
And drap serenity, to keep up state:
Laugh, when we're sad; speak, when we've nought
to say;
And, for the fashion, when we're blyth, seem wae:
Pay compliments to them we aft have scorn'd;
Then scandalize them, when their backs are turn'd.
Peg. If this is gentry, I had rather be
What I am still; —But I'll be ought with thee.
Pat. No, no, my Peggy, I but only jest
WVith gentry's apes; for still amangst the best,
Good manners give integrity a bleez,
WVhen native vertues join the arts to please.
Peg. Since with nae hazard, and sae small expence,
My lad frae books can gather siccan sense;
Then why, ah i why should the tempestuous sea,
Endanger thy dear life, and frighten me?
Sir lWilliam's cruel, that wad force his son,
For watna-whats, sae great a risk to run.
Pat. There is nae doubt, but travelling does improve,
Yet I would shun it for thy sake, my love.
But soon as I've shook aff my landwart cast,
In foreign cities, hame to thee I'll haste.
Peg. With every setting day, and rising morn,
I'11 kneel to ileaven, and ask thy safe return.
Under that tree, and on the Suckler Brae,
Where aft we wont, when bairns, to run and play;
And to the Hissel-shaw where first ye vow'd
Ye wad be mine, and I as eithly trow'd,
I'll aftenl gang, and tell the trees and flowers,
With joy, that they'll bear witness I am yours.




70         THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERID.
Or sung as follows.
SANG XIX.-Tune, Bush aboon Traquair.
At setting day, and rising morn,
With soul that still shall Zove thee,
I'll asik of Heaven thy safe return,
WVith all that can imnprove thee.
I'll visit aft the Birl7en Bush,
1W4here first thou kindly told me
S'weet tales of love, and hid my blush,
WFhilst round thou didst enfold me.
To all our haunts I will repair,
By Greenwood-shaw or fountain;
Or where the summer-day I'd share'With thee upon yon mountain.
There will I tell the trees and flowers,
From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
By vows you're mine, by love is yours
A heart which cannot wander.
Pat. My dear, allow me, frae thy temples fair,
A shining ringlet of thy flowing hair;
Which, as a sample of each lovely charm,
I'll aften kiss, and wear about my arm.
Peg. Were't in my power with better boons to
please,
I'd give the best I could with the same ease;
Nor wad I, if thy luck had faln to me,
Been in ae jot less generous to thee.




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                 71
Pat. I doubt it not; but since we've little time,
To ware't on words, wad border on a crime:
Love's safter meaning better is exprest,
When'tis with kisses on the heart imprest. [Exeunt.
End of the FOURTHt A.,




72         THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD,
ACT FIFTHE
S CEIVE L
See how poor 3Bauldy stares like ane possest,
And roars up Symon frae his kindly rest.
Bare-leg'd, with night-cap, and unbutton'd coat,
See, the auld mail comes forward to the sot.
SYMON and BAULDY.
XSymon.
WHAT want ye, Bauldy, at this early hour,
While drowsy sleep keeps a' beneath its pow'r?
Far to the north, the scant approaching light
Stands equal'twixt the morning and the night.
What gars ye shake and glowr, and look sae wan?
Your teeth they chitter, hair like bristles stand.
Baul. 0 len me soon some water, milk or ale,
My head's grown giddy, —legs with shaking fail;
I'll ne'er dare venture forth at night my lane:
Alake! I'll never be mysell again.
I'll ne'er o'erput it! Symon! 0 Symon! 0!
[Symon gives himf  a drink.
Syym. What ails thee, gowk! —to make sae loud ado?
You've wak'd Sir William, he has left his bed;
He comes, I fear ill pleas'd: I hear his tred.




THE GENTLE  SHEPHERD.                73
Enter SIR WILLIAM.
Sir TWVill. How goes the night?  Does day-light yet
appear?
Symon, you're very timeously asteer.
Sfym. I'm sorry, Sir, that we've disturb'd your rest: )
But some strange thing has Bauldy's sp'rit opprest;
He's seen some witch, or wrestl'dc with a ghaist.
Bazl. 0 ay,-dear Sir, in troth'tis very true;
And I am come to make my plaint to you.
Sir  ill. [smiling.] I lang to hear'tBaul. -        Ah  Sir, the witch ca'd Mause,
That wins aboon the mill amang the haws,
First promis'd that she'd help me with her art,
To gain a bonny thrawart lassie's heart.
As she had tristed, I met wi'er this night;
But may nae friend of mine get sic a fright!
For the curs'd hag, instead of doing me good,
(The very thought o't's like to freeze my blood I)
Rais'd up a ghaist or deil, I kenna whilk,
Like a dead corse in sheet as white as milk;
Black hands it had, and face as wan as death,
Upon me fast the Witch and it fell baith,
And gat me down; while I, like a great fool,
Was laboured as I wont to be at school.
My heart out of its hool was like to lowp;
I pithless grew with fear, and had nae hope,
Till, with an elritch laugh, they vanish'd quite:
Syne I, haff dead with anger, fear and spite,
Crap up, and fled straight frae them, Sir, to you,
Hoping your help, to gi'e the deil his due.
7




74        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
I'm sure my heart will ne'er gi'e o'er to dunt,
Till in a fat tar-barrel Mause be burnt.      [be;
Sir Will. WVell, Bauldy, whate'er's just shall granted
Let Mause be brought this morning down to me.
Baul. Thanks to your Honour; soon shall I obey:
But first I'll Roger raise, and twa three mae
To catch her fast, or she get leave to squeel,
And cast her cantraips that bring up the deil.
[Exit BAULDY.
Sir WVill. Troth, Symon, Bauldy's more afraid than
hurt,
The witch and ghaist have made themselves good sport.
What silly notions crowd the clouded mind,
That is thro' want of education blind!
~Sym. But does your Honour think there's nae sic
thing
As witches raising deils up thro' a ring?
Syne playing tricks, a thousand I cou'd tell,
Cou'd never be contriv'd on this side hell.
Sir Wil. Such as the devil's dancing in a moor,
Amongst a few old women craz'd and poor,
Who are rejoic'd to see him frisk and lowp
O'er braes and bogs, with candles in his dowp;
Appearing sometimes like a black-horn'd cow,
Aftimes like Bawty, Badrans, or a Sow:
Then with his train thro' airy paths to glide,
While they on cats, or clowns, or broom-staffs ride;
Or in the egg-shell skim out o'er the main,
To drink their leader's health in France or Spain:
Then aft by night, bumbaze hare-hearted fools,
By tumbling down their cup-board, chairs and stools.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                   75
Whate'er's in spells, or if there witches be,
Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me.
Sym.'Tis true enough, we ne'er heard that a witch
Had either meikle sense, or yet was rich.
But Mause, tho' poor, is a sagacious wife,
And lives a quiet and very honest life;
That gars me think this hobleshew that's past
Will land in naithing but a joke at last.
Sir W11ill. I'm sure it will:-But see increasing light
Commands the imps of darkness down to night;
Bid raise my servants, and my horse prepare,
Whilst I walk out to take the morning air.
SANG XX. —Tune, Bonny grey-ey'd morn.
The bonny grey-ey'd morn begins to peep,
And darkness flies beore the rising ray;'The hearty hind starts from his lazy sleep,
To follow healthful labours of the day:
Without a guilty sting to wrinkle his brow,
IThe lark and the linnet tend his levee,
And hejoins their concert, driving his plow,
From toil of grimace and pageantry free.
Thile fluster'd with wine, or madden'd with loss
Of half an estate, the prey of a main,
The drunkard and gamester tumble and toss,
Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain.
Be my portion health, and quietness of mind,
Plac'd at due distance from parties and state;
Where neither ambition, nor avarice blind,
Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate.
[Exeunt.




76          THIE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
ACT V.-SCENWE It
While Peggy laces up her bosom fair,
With a blew snood Jenny binds up her hair;
Glaud, by his morning ingle takes a beek,
The rising sun shines motty thro' the reek,
A pipe his mouth; the lasses please his een,
And now and than his joke maun interveen.
GLAUD, JENNY and PEGGY.
Glaud.
I WISH, my bairns, it may keep fair till night;
Ye do not use sae soon to see the light.
Nae doubt now ye intend to mix the thrang,
To take your leave of Patrick or he gang.
But do ye think that now when he's a laird,
That he poor landwart lasses will regard?
Jen. Tho' he's young Master now, I'm very sure
He has mair sense than slight auld friends, tho' poor.
But yesterday he ga'e us mony a tug,
And kiss'd my cousin there frae lug to lug.
Glaud. Ay, ay, nae doubt o't, and he'll do't again;
But, be advis'd,. his company refrain:
Before, he as a shepherd, sought a wife,
With her to live a chast and frugal life;
But now grown gentle, soon he will forsake
Sic godly thoughts, and brag of being a rake.
Peg. A rake! what's that?-Sure if it means ought
ill,
He'll never be't, else I have tint my skill,




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.               77
Glatud. Daft lassie, ye ken nought of the affair,
Ane young and good and gentle's unco rare.
A rake's a graceless spark, that thinks nae shame,
To do what like of us thinks sin to name:
Sic are sac void of shame, they'll never stap
To brag how aften they have had the clap.
They'll tempt young things, like you, with youdith
flush'd,
Syne make ye a' their jest, when ye're debauched.
Be warry then, I say, and never gi'e
Encouragement, or bourd with sic as he.
Peg. Sir William's vertuous, and of gentle blood;
And may not Patrick too, like him, be good?
Gaucld. That's true, and mony gentry mae than he,
As they are wiser, better are than we;
But thinner sawn: They're sae puft up with pride,
There's mony of them mocks ilk haly guide,
That shaws the gate to Heaven.-I've heard mysell,
Some of them laugh at doomsday, sin and hell.
Jen. Watch o'er us, father! hell! that's very odd;
Sure him that doubts a doomsday, doubts a God.
Glaud. Doubt! why, they neither doubt, nor judge,
nor think,
Nor hope, nor fear; but curse, debauch and drink:
But I'm no saying this, as if I thought
That Patrick to sic gates will e'er be brought.
Peg. The Lord forbid!!Na, he kens better things:
But here comes aunt; her face some ferly brings.
7*




78        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Enter MADGE..lfad. Haste, haste ye; we're a' sent for o'er the gate,
To hear, and help to redd some odd debate'Tween Mause and Bauldy,'bout some witchcraft spell,
At Symon's house: The Knight sits judge himsell.
Glaud. Lend me my staff;-Madge, lock the outerdoor,
And bring the lasses wi' ye; I'll step before.
[Exit GLAUD.
iMad. Poor Meg!-Look, Jenny, was the like e'er
seen,
How bleer'd and red with greeting look her een?
This day her brankan wooer takes his horse,
To strute a gentle spark at Edinburgh cross;
To change his kent, cut frae the branchy plain,
For a nice sword, and glancing headed cane;
To leave his ram-horn spoons, and kitted whey,
For gentler tea, that smells like new won hay;
To leave the green-swaird dance, when we gae milk,
To rustle amang the beauties clad in silk.
But Meg, poor Meg! maun with the shepherd stay,
And tak what God will send, in hodden-gray.
Peg. Dear aunt, what need ye fash us wi' your scorn?
That's no my faut that I'm nae gentler born.
Gif I the daughter of some laird had been,
I ne'er had notic'd Patie on the green:
Now since he rises, why should I repine?
If he's made for another, he'll ne'er be mine:
And then, the like has been, if the decree
Designs him mine, I yet his wife may be.




THE  GENTLE SHEPHERD.                    79
Mad. A bonny story, trowth!-But we delay:
Prin up your aprons baith, and come away. [Exeunt.
ACT V. -SCENE 1f.
Sir William fills the twa-arm'd chair,
While Symon, Roger, Glaud and Mause,
Attend, and with loud laughter hear
Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his cause:
For now'tis tel'dc him that the taz
Was handled by revengefn' Madge,
Because he brak good brecding's laws,
And with his nonsense rais'd their rage.
SIR WILLIAM, PATIE, ROGER, SYMON, GLAUD,
BAULDY and MAUSE.
Sir T'Vi'liam.
AND was that all?-Well, Bauldy, ye was serv'd
No otherwise than what ye well deserv'd.
Was it so small a matter, to defame,
And thus abuse an honest woman's name?
Besides your going about to have betray'd
By perjury an innocent young maid.
Baul. Sir, I confess my faut thro' a' the steps,
And ne'er again shall be untrue to Neps.
Mause. Thus far, Sir, he oblig'd me on the score;
I kend not that they thought me sic before.
Baul. An't like your Honour, I believ'd it well;
But trowth I was e'en doilt to seek the deil:
Yet, with your Honour's leave, tho' she's nae Witch,
She's baith-a slee and a revengefu'  




Iso0      THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
And that my Sonme-pZace finds;-but I had best
Had in my tongue; for yonder comes the Ghaist,
And the young bonny W1/itch, whase rosy cheek
Sent me, without my wit, the deil to seek.
Enter MADGE, PEGGY andc JENNY.
Sir Will. [looking at Peggy.] Whose daughter's she
that wears th' Aurora gown,
With face so fair, and locks a lovely brown?
How sparkling are her eyes! What's this! I find
The girl brings all my sister to my mind.
Such were the features once adorn'd a face,
Which death too soon depriv'd of sweetest grace.
Is this your daughter, Glaud?Glaud.              Sir, she's my niece;And yet she's not: —but I should bald my peace.
Sir WVil. This is a contradiction: What d'ye mean?
She is, and is not! Pray thee, Glaucd, explain.
Glaud. Because I doubt, if I should make appearWhat I have kept a secret thirteen year.
Kause. You may reveal what I can fully clear.
Sir Will. Speak soon; I'm all impatience!Pat.                           So am I!
For much I hope, and hardly yet know why.
Glaud. Then, since my master orders, I obey.
This Bonny Fundling, ae clear morn of May,
Close by the lee-side of my door I found,
All sweet and clean, and carefully hapt round,
In infant-weeds of rich and gentle make.
What cou'd they be, thought I, did thee forsake?
Wha, warse than brutes, cou'd leave expos'd to air




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.              81
Sae much of innocence sae sweetly fair,
Aae helpless young? for she appear'd to me
Only about twa towmands auld to be.
I took her in my arms, the bairnie smil'd
With sic a look wad made a savage mild.
I hid the story: She has pass'd sincesyne
As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine.
Nor do I rue my care about the we'an,
For she's well worth the pains that I have tane.
Ye see she's bonny, I can swear she's good,
And am right sure she's come of gentle blood:
Of whom I kenna.-Nathing ken I mair,
Than what I to your Honour now declare.
Sir Will. This tale seems strange!
Pat.       The tale delights my ear::iIr Will. Command your joys, young man, till truth
appear.
kfause. That be my task.-Now, Sir, bid all be hush:
Peggy may smile; —thou hast nae cause to blush.
Long have I wish'd to see this happy day,
That I might safely to the truth give way;
That I may now Sir William Worthy name,
The best and nearest friend that she can claim:
He saw't at first, and with quick eye did trace
His sister's beauty in her daughter's face.
Sir Will. Old woman, do not rave, —prove what
you say;'Tis dangerous in affairs like this to play.
Pat. What reason, Sir, can an old woman have
To tell a lie, when she's sae near her grave?
But how, or why, it should be truth, I grant,




82        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
I every thing looks like a reason want.
Omnes. The story's odd! we wish we heard it out.
Sir Will. Mak haste, good woman, and resolve each
doubt.
[Mause goesforward, leading Peggy to Sir  Witlliam.]
Mause. Sir, view me well: Has fifteen years so
plow'd
A wrinkled face that you have often view'd,
That here I as an unknown stranger stand,
Who nurs'd her mother that now holds my hand?
Yet stronger proofs I'll give, if you demand.
Sir Will. Ha! honest nurse, where were my eyes
before?
I know thy faithfulness, and need no Inore:
Yet, from the lab'rinth to lead out my mind,
Say, to expose her who was so unkind?
[Sir Williamr embraces Peggy, and makes her sit by him.]
Yes, surely thou'rt my niece; truth must prevail:
But no more words, till Mause relate her tale.
Pat. Good nurse, go on; nae musick's haff sae fine,
Or can give pleasure like these words of thine.
Mause. Then, it was I that sav'd her infant-life,
Her death being threatned by an uncle's wife.
The story's lang; but I the secret knew,
How they pursu'd, with avaritious view,
Her rich estate, of which they're now possest:
All this to me a confident confest.
I heard with horror, and with trembling dread,
They'd smoor the sakeless orphan in her bed!
That very night, when all were sunk in rest,
At midnight hour, the floor I saftly prest,




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.              83
And staw the sleeping innocent away;
With whom I travel'd some few miles ere day:
All day I hid me,-when the day was done,
I kept my journey, lighted by the moon,
Till eastward fifty miles I reach'd these plains,'Where needful plenty glads your chearful swains;
Afraid of being found out, I to secure
Mly Charge, e'en laid her at this shepherd's door,
And took a neighbouring cottage here, that I,
WVhate'er should happen to her, might be by.
Here honest Glaud himsell, and Symon may
Remember well, how I that very day
Frae Roger's father took my little crove.
Glaud. [with tears ofjoy happing down his beard.]
I well rernember't. Lord reward your love:,.
Lang have I wish'd for this; for aft I thought,
Sic knowledge sometime should about be brought.
Pat.'Tis now a crime to doubt,-my joys are full.
With due obedience to my parent's will.
Sir, with paternal love survey her charms,
And blame me not for rushing to her arms.
She's mine by vows; and would, tho' still unknown,
Have been my wife, when I my vows durst own.
Sir ]W~ill. My niece! my daughter! welcome to my
care,
Sweet image of thy mother good and fair,
Equal with Patrick: Now my greatest aim
Shall be, to aid your joys, and well match'd flame.
My boy, receive her from your father's hand,
WVith as good will as either would demand.
[Patie and Peggy embrace, and kneel to Sir William.]




84        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Pat. With as much joy this blessing I receive,
As ane wad life, that's sinking in a wave.
Sir TTill. [raises them.] I give you both my blessing:
may your love
Produce a happy race, and still improve.
Peg. My wishes are compleat,-my joys arise,
While I'm haff dizzy with the blest surprise.
And am I then a match for my ain lad,
That for me so much generous kindness had?
Lang may Sir William bless these happy plains,
Happy while IIeaven grant he on them remains.
Pat. Be lang our guardian, still our Master be; }
We'll only crave what you shall please to gi'e:
The estate be your's, my Peggy's ane to me.
Glaud. I hope your Honour now will take amends
Of them that sought her life for wicked ends.
Sir lWZill. The base unnatural villain soon shall
know,
That eyes above watch the affairs below.
I'll strip him soon of all to her pertains,
And make him reimburse his ill got gains.
Peg. To me the views of wealth and an estate,
Seem light when put in ballance with my Pate:
For his sake only, I'll ay thankful bow
For such a kindness, best of men, to you.
Sym. What double blythness wakens up this day I
I hope now, Sir, you'll no soon haste away.
Sall I unsadle your horse, and gar prepare
A dinner for ye of hale country fare?
See how much joy unwrinkles every brow;
Our looks hing on the twa, and doat on you:




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.              85
Even Bauldy the bewitch'd has quite forgot
Fell Madge's taz, and pawky Mause's plot.
Sir Will. Kindly old man, remain with you this day I
I never from these fields again will stray:
Masons and wrights shall soon my house repair,
And bussy gardners shall new planting rear:
My father's hearty table you soon shall see
Restor'd, and my best friends rejoice with me.
Sym. That's the best news I heard this twenty year;
New day breaks up, rough times begin to clear.
Glaud. God save the King, and save Sir William
lang,
To enjoy their ain, and raise the shepherd's sang.
Rog. Wha winna dance? wha will refuse to sing?
What shepherd's whistle winna lilt the spring?
Baul. I'm friends with Mause, —with very Madge
I'm'greed,
Altho' they skelpit me when woodly fleid:
I'm now fu' blyth, and frankly can forgive,
To join and sing, "Lang may Sir William live."
Mad. Lang may he live:-And, Bauldy, learn to
steek
Your gab a wee, and think before ye speak;
And never ca' her auld that wants a man,
Else ye may yet some witches' fingers ban.
This day I'll wi' the youngest of ye rant,
And brag for ay, that I was ca'd the aunt
Of our young lady,-my dear bonny bairn!
Peg. No other name I'll ever for you learn.And, my good nurse, how shall I gratefu' be,
For a' thy matchless kindness done for me?
S




86        THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
Hause. The flowing pleasures of this happy day
Does fully all I can require repay.
Sir Will. To faithful Symon, and, kind Glaud, to
you,
And to your heirs I give in endless feu,
The mailens ye possess, as justly due,
For acting like kind fathers to the pair,
Who have enough besides, and these can spare.
Mause, in my house in calmness close your days,
With nought to do, but sing your Maker's praise.
Onmzes. The Lord of Heaven return your HIonour's
love,
Confirm your joys, and a' your blessings roove.
Patie, [presenting Roger to Sir Wil'liam.]
Sir, here's my trusty friend, that always shar'd
My bosom-secrets, ere I was a laird;
Glaud's daughter Janet (Jenny, thinkna shame)
iRais'd, and maintains in him a lover's flame:
Lang was he dumb, at last he spake, and won,
And hopes to be our honest uncle's son:
Be pleas'd to speak to Glaud for his consent,
That nane may wear a face of discontent.
Sir Will. My son's demand is fair,-Glaud, let me
crave,
That trusty Roger may your daughter have,
With frank consent; and while he does remain
Upon these fields, I make him chamberlain.
Glaud. You crowd your bounties, Sir, what can
we say,
But that we're dyvours that can ne'er repay?
Whate'er your Honour wills, I shall obey.




THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.                  87
Roger, my daughter, with my blessing, takle,
And still our master's right your business make.
Please him, be faithful, and this auld gray head
Shall nod with quietness down amang the dead.
Rog. I ne'er was good a speaking a' my days,
Or ever loo'd to make o'er great a fraise:
But for my master, father and my wife,
I will employ the cares of all my life.
Sir Will. My friends, I'm satisfied you'll all behave,
Each in his station, as I'd wish or crave.
Be ever vertuous, soon or late you'll find
Reward, and satisfaction to your mind.
The maze of life sometimes looks dark and wild;
And oft when hopes are highest, we're beguil'd:
Aft, when we stand on brinks of dark despair, }
Some happy turn with joy dispells our care.
Now all's at rights, who sings best let me hear.
Peg. When you demand, I readiest should obey:
I'll sing you ane, the newest that I ha'e.
SANG XXI.-Tune, Corn-riggs are bonny.
HJy Patie is a lover gay,
His mind is never nmuddy;
His breath is sweeter than new hay,
HFisface is fair and ruddy:
His shape is handsome, middle size;
He's comely in his wauking:
The shining of his een surprise;'Tis Heaven to hear him taw/king.
Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing,




THE  GENTLE  SHEPHERD.
There mony a kindly word he spake,
Thact set my heart a glowing.
He kiss'cd, and vow'cd he wad be mine,
And loo'd amie best of ony,
That gars me like to sing since syne,
0 corn-riggs are bonny.
Let lasses of a silly mind
Refuse what maist they're wanting;
Since we for yielding were design'd,
W.Ve chastly should be granting.
Then I'll comply, and marry Pate,
And syne my cockernonny
He's free to touzel air or clate,
Where corn-riqggs are bonny.
[Exeunt omnes.




NOTES.
Page 5, line 11 from  top; the reading in the text
is:"She fled as frae a shellycoat or kow."
This is the reading in the 8vo and 4to editions of 1721; (and
also in the 12mo edition of 1761;) where was published the,first scene of the Pastoral, as a separate poem, under the title
of "Patie and Roger."  But, in all the editions of the Gentle
Shepherd that we have seen, the reading stands thus:" She fled as frae a shellycoated kow."
We think the first reading is the true one; and that the
second is, probably, a typographical error. We have come
to this conclusion after an inquiry into the meaning of the
words "Shellycoat" and " Kow."  The definitions of these
words, from the best authorities we know of, are subjoined;
which will enable such of our readers as have any curiosity in
the matter to judge for themselves.
"Shellycoat, a spirit, who resides in the waters, and has
given his name to many a rock and stone upon the Scottish
coast, belongs also to the class of bogles. When he appeared,
he seemed to be decked with marine productions, and in particular with shells, whose clattering announced his approach.
From this circumstance he derived his name. —Shellycoat must
not be confounded with Kelpy, a water spirit also, but of a
much more powerful and malignant nature."
[Scott's ifinst'relsy, vol. i., Introd. civ. cv.




90                         NOTES.
"Shellycoat.  One of those frightful spectres the ignorant
people are terrified at, and tell us strange stories of; that they
are clothed with a coat of shells, which make a horrid rattling;
that they'll be sure to destroy one, if he gets not a running
water between him and it: it dares not meddle with a woman
with child, &c."
[Ramsay's Poems, vol. i., 4to edition, 1721.
"Kow  or Cow," a hobgoblin; also, a scarecrow, a bugbear.
Cow-man, the devil."
[ Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary.
" Tirrikow," the devil.
[Hogg's 3fountaistn Bard.
The above definitions of Szellycoat are very precise: that
of Kow is less so.  Both are spirits, and frightful in character;
yet apparently of distinct habits.  Hence the first of the readings given above,-the oldest and that adopted in the text" She fled as frae a shellycoat or kow,"
is quite natural and proper: the second, (though susceptible of
explanation,) seems much less so.
At page  57, a variation  from  the  text given  in
the present edition, is found  in nearly all the more
modern editions: it is as follows:" Enter BAULDY [singing].
SANG XVI.
Jocky said to Jenny, Jenny, wilt thou do't?
Ne'er afit, quoth Jenny, for my tocher-good;
For my tocher-good, I winna marry thee:
F'en's-ye-like, quoth Jocky, I car let you be,




NOTES.                            91
Macuse.*  Well liltit, Bauldy, that's a dainty sang.
Bauldy. I'se gie ye't a', it's better than it's lang.
I have gowd and gear, I have land eneugh,
Ihave sax good owsen gazging  in a pleugh;
Ganging in a lceuegh, and linkan o'er the lee,
And gin ye winona tak me, I can let ye be.
Ihave a good ha' house, a barn, and a byre;
A peat-stack'fore the door, will mak a ranting fire;
I'll malk a rantzting ire, and merry shall we be,
And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be.
Jenny said to Jocky, gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad, I'll be the lass mysell;
Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Y'ere welcomer to tak me than to let me be."
In. "Ramsay's Poems," published in  London, by Millar,
Rivington & Co., 2 vols. 12mo, 1761; (three years after
the author's death;) there occur several variations from the
text of the present edition.  As the more important of these
changes, with one exception, have been adopted in the edition
edited by George Chalmers, published by Cadell & Co., London,
2 vols. 8vo, 1800; (usually considered the "best edition" of
Ramsay's collected works;) and  as  they  have been again
adopted in the recent reprint of Cadell's edition by Fullarton
&  Co., London, 3 vols. 12mo, 1850, it has been thought best
to present them  here in the form  of notes.  The following,
therefore, are to be understood as the readings in the editions
just referred to:Page 5, line 13 from  bottom:"'Till he yowl'd sair she strak the poor dumb tyke:"
This is the reading in the 8vo and 4to editions of 1721, before referred to. In the 4to subscription edition of 1728, the
* In some editions, Mad ge.




92                         NOTES.
author rejected the above reading, and substituted that given
in the text.  This would seem to be conclusive; and produces
a considerable degree of suspicion as to the authority for the
other alterations which we find in the editions of 1761 and
1800.
Page 11, line 4 from bottom: —' We soon will hear what a poor feightan life"
[Edition o1800o.
The editions of 1761 and 1850 give the reading in the
text.
Page 19, line 8 from  top:" To shine, or set in glory with Montrose."
Page 25, line 8 from bottom:"Bauldy. Well vers'd in herbs and seasons of the moon,
By skilftl' charms'tis kend what ye have done."
[Editiona of 1761.
The editions of 1800 and 1850 give the reading in the
text.
Page 27:MArAUsE her lane.
" This fool imagines, as do mony sic,
That I'm a witch in compact with Auld _Ack,
Because by ecduchtion I was taught
To speak and act aboon their common thought.
Their gross mlistake shall quickly now appear,
Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here.
Now since the royal Ch7arles, and right's restor'd,
A shepherdess is daughter to a lord.
The bonny foundling that's brought up by Glaud,
Wha has an uncle's care on her bestow'l,
Her infant life I sav'd, when a false friend
Bow'd to th' Usurper, and her death design'd,
To establish him and his in all these plains
That by right heritage to her pertains.




NOTES.                            93
She's now in her sweet bloom, has blood and charms
Of too much value for a shepherd's arms:
None knows't but me;-and if the morn were come,
I'll tell them tales will gar them all sing dumb."
Page 29, line 7 from  top:"I darna stay,-ye joker, let me gang,
Or swear ye'll never tempt to do me wrang.1"
Page 29, line 15 from top: —
" Shall do thee wrang, I swear by all aboon."
Page 36, line 4 from  top:" No Jaccacint7s or Eg, antines appear.
Here fail'd and broke's the rising ample shade,
Where Peach and nect'rine trees their branches spread,
Basking in rays, and early did produce
Fruit fair to view, delightful in the use;
All round in gaps, the walls in ruin lie,
And from what stands the wither'd branches fly."
Page 47, line 10 from  bottom:" With equal joy my safter heart does yield,
To own thy well-try'd love has won the field."
Page 62, top line:"But love rebels against all bounding laws;
Fixt in my soul the shepherdess excells,"
Page 63, line 15 from  bottom:"Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, sparkling wine,
Rich fare, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine,
Submissive servants, honour, wealth and ease,"
Page 64, line 14 from  bottom:" Roger. And proud of being your secretary, I
To wyle it fiae me a' the deels defy."




94                        NOTES.
Page 67, line 10 from bottom:" Dream thro' that night,'till my day-star appear;"
Page 70, line s from bottom:-e
"Peggy. Were ilka hair that appertains to me
Worth an estate, they all belong to thee:
My sheers are ready, take what you demand,
And aught what love with virtue may command.
Patie. Nae mair I'll ask; but since we've little time,"
Page 72, line 9 from  top:What want ye, Bauldy, at this [relyj] hour,
When nature nods beneath the drowsy pow'r:"
Page 73, line 8 from  bottom:"Lows'd down my breeks, while I like a great fool,"
[2%ot in edition of 1850.
Page 82, line 12 from  bottom:" Patie. Good nurse, dispatch thy story wing'd with blisses,
That I may give my cusin fifty kisses."
Besides the above, there occur, in the edition of 1761, about
50 verbal alterations, additions, and omissions; and about 75 in
the edition of 1800. In the edition of 1850 there are fewer
changes, it having been partially corrected, probably from the
8vo edition of 1808. These verbal changes are rarely, if ever,
improvements; frequently of little consequence, and sometimes
they appear silly; for instance, towards the end of the Pastoral
there is substituted, in two or three instances, Archbald instead
of Bauldy! We have not, therefore, thought it worth while to
note them here. We rather think that our readers, generally,
will not consider the readings above given, as improvements on
those in the text.




A
GLOSSARY;
OR,
AN EXPLANATION OF THE SCOTTISH WORDS
WHICH ARE USED IN
ALLAN RAMSA Y'S " GENTLE SHEPHERD;'
AND WHICH ARE RARELY FOUND IN MODERN ENGLISH WRITENGS:
WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.
A.                A-will, voluntarily.
A', all.                        dAwner, owner.
Abeit, albeit, although.
Ablins, perhaps.                               B.
Aboon, above.                    Ba', ball.
Ae, or ane, one.                Baddrans, a cat.
Af, off.                         Bairns, children.
-Afteb, often,                   Bair, bear, boar.
Ai?, or awn, own.                Baith, both.
Air, long since, early.          To ban, to curse.
Air up, soon up in the morning.   Banefire, bonfire.
Airth, quarter of the heaven.    Barnnocks, a sort of unleavened
Alane, alone.                       bread, thicker than cakes, and
Amanist, almost.                    round.
Amang, among.                    Barlickhood, a fit of drunken angry
Aneath, beneath.                    passion.
Anes, once.                      Bassend, see Bawsy.
Anither, another.                Baug7h, sorry, indifferent.
AsteeG, stirring.                Bank, balk.
Atanes, at once, at the same timne.   Bauld, bold.
Attour, out-over.                Bawk, a rafter, joist; likewise, the
Aulld, old.                         space between cornfields; to
AwJa, away.                         frustrate.




96-                       GLOSSARY.
Bawsy, bawsand-fac'd, is a cow, or Bonny, beautiful.
horse, with a white face.      Boauk, bulk.
Be, by.                             Bouzrd, jest or dally.
Bedeen, immediately, in haste.     Bowt, bolt.
Begunk, a trick, a cheat.           Brae, the side of a hill, a steep bank.
Beik, to bask.                     Braid, broad.
Beild, or beil, a shelter.          Bramkan, prancing, a capering.
Beiw, or been, wealthy, comforta- Brattle, to advance rapidly, making
ble. A  been house, a warm          a noise with the feet.
well-furnished one.            Brats, aprons of coarse linen.
Ben, the inner room of a house.    Braw, brave; fine in apparel.
Comefarer ben, be better received.  Breaks, becomes bankrupt.
Bend, a pull of liquor.            Brecken, fern.
Bend thIe hicker, quaff out the cup.  Briss, to press.
Bent, a coarse kind of grass grow- Brock, a badger.
ing on hilly ground; the open  Broe, broth.
field, the plain.              Brown, cow, a ludicrous expression
To t7ze bent, fled out of reach.       for ale or beer, as opposed to
Betooch-es-to, Heaven preserve us.      milk.
Beuk, baked.                        Bught, the little fold where the
Bicker, a wooden dish.                  ewes are inclosed at milkingBide, to await.                         time.
Bigonet, a linen cap or coif.       Buembazed, confused; made to stare
Billy, brother, a young man.            and look like an idiot.
_Birks, birch-trees.                Burn, or butrnie, a brook.
Birky,-auld birky, old boy.         Busk, to deck, dress.
B.irn, a burnt mark.                Bustine, fustian (cloth.)
Birnes, the stalks of burnt heath.    Beut, often used for eoithout; as " but.
Black-sole, a confidant in courtship.  feed or favour."
Blae, black and blue, the colour of  Buet aflaaw, without a lie.
the skin when bruised.         But,-fetc7l but, bring into the outer
Blaeberry, bilberry.                    apartment, or that used as a
Blashy, plashy, deluging.               kitchen.
Blate, bashful.                    By and attouer, over and above.
Bla"w, blow; to boast.              By,-fiings by, throws aside.
Bleeck7, to blanch or whiten.       Byre, or byar, a cow-house.
Bleer, to bedim with tears.
Blez, blaze.                                       C.
Blob, a drop.                       Ca, call.
Bob, to move up and down as in  Cadgy,  good-humoured,  happy,
dancing.                           fond.
Bobbit bands, tasselled bands (worn  Canker'd, angry, passionately snarlabout the neck).                   ing.
Bode, to proffer.                   Cana, cannot.




GLOSSARY.                                 97
Canny, prudent.  (See franny.)    Curunie, or coonie, coin.
CaCntraips, incantations.             Cr un, a small quantity.
Cant/y, cheerful and merry.          C-ut and dry, a kind of tobacco.
Car, sledge.
U'arle, a word for an old man.                       ID.
C'rna, care not.                     Dctflne, folly, waggery.
Cawst 2p, to upbraid one with athing.  Daft, foolish.
Cauld, cold.                         Dainty, is used as an epithet of a
CGuMldrife, spiritless; wanting cheer-   fine man or woman.
fulness in address.              Dang, did dbit, beat, thrust, drive.
Ctuler, cool or fresh.               Darn, to hide.
Ca.ef, or cca, a calf; chaff.        Darna, dare not.
auawk, chalk.                         Dash, to put out of countenance.
Chiel, or chield, a general term like  Dawty, a fondling, darling.  To
fellow; used sometimes with           dawt, or daut, to cocker and
respect, as, "he's a very good        caress with tenderness.
c7/iel;'  and  contemptuously,  Dlecleet, award.
" that chiel.l'                  Deil, or deel, the devil.
C(rirmn, chirp and sing like a bird.   Dike, or dyke, a fence of stone or
Ch/itter, chatter.                        turf.
Chucky, a hen.                        To D)ing, to drive down, to beat, to
C/aith, cloth.                            overcome.
Clatter, to chatter.                  Dit.na, do not.
Ocaw, scratch.                        Dis2na, does Inot.
(7eck, to hatch.                     Dit, to stop or close up a hole.
C'leek, to catch as with a hook.      Divot, thin turf.
C'lOSS, close.                       Doilt, confused and silly.
Clute, or cloot, hoof of cows or sheep.  Doof, a dull, heavy-headed fellow.
Co(ekersnoy, the gathering of a wo-  Dool, pain, grief.
man's hair, when it is wrapt or  Doarts, a proud pet.
snoodedl up with a band or  Dorty, proud; not to be spoken to;
snood.                                conceited; appearing as disCoft, bought.                             obliged.
ooaf, a stupid fellow.               Doserns, becomes torpid.
C(orby, a raven.                     Dosw, to will, to incline, to thrive;
aottar, a cottager.                      to be able.
C'rack, to chat, to talk.            Doauie, siclly, melancholy, doleful,
Craig, a rock.                            sad.
('rap, crept.                        Doztlsa, doze not, i. e., though one'o00ob, or erTene, to murmur or hum       has the power, he wants the
over a song.                          heart to do it.
Crove, a cottage.                    Douwp, the arse; the small remains
a'remmy, or cru.m7nmok, a cow's           of a candle.
name.                            Drap, drop.




98                          GLOSSARY.
Dreery, wearisome, frightful.         Fash, to vex or trouble. Fasheous,.Drie, to suffer, endure.                 troublesome.
Drouth, drought, thirst.             Fauld, fold.
DDubs, mire, small pools of water.    Fause, false.
Duds, rags.  Dalddly, ragged.        Fceutt, fault.
Dung, driven down, overcome.         Fazwn, fallen.
Dunt, stroke or blow; to beat, to  Feckless, feeble, little and weak.
palpitate.                       Feg. a fig.
Dyvour, a bankrupt, a debtor.        Fell, good, valuable, keen; a rocky,
or wild, hill.
Fere, sound, entire.
Ferlie, wonder.
Eastlin, easterly, eastward.         Feu, tenure, a fief.
Ien, eyes.                           Firlot, four pecks, the fourth part
Eild, old age.                            of a boll.
Eithl, easy. Eithly, easily.         Fit, the foot.
Elf-shot, bewitched, shot by fairies. Flaes, fleas.
Etritch, wild, hideous, uninhabited _Flwz, lie or fib.
except by imaginary ghosts.    Flawi7g, lying, fibbing.
Elvacdl, the ell measure.            Fleetch, to coax or flatter.
Ergh, scrupulous; when one makes  Fleg, fright.
faint attempts to do a thing,  Flesh7 a' creels, a phrase which exwithout a steady resolution;         presses shuddering.
to be timorous.                  Met, the preterit oftlyte, did chide.
Ether, an adder.                     Fley, or flie, to affright.  Fleyt, or
Etherecap, or ettercap, a venomous        fleid, afraid or terrified.
spiteful creature.               FPighter, flutter.
Ettle, to aim, design.               Flit, to remove.
Even'd, compared.                    Flite, or flyte, to scold or chide.
Evens, equals, compares, allies.          Flet, did scold.
Flyp, to turn inside out.
F.                  Fog, moss.
Fa, fall.                             Forby, besides.
Fae, foe.                            Forgainst, opposite to.
Fain, joyful, tickled with pleas- Forgather, to meet, encounter.
ure.                             Forrow cow, a cow that is not with
Fairfe/', when we wish well to one,       calf, and therefore contilles
that a good or fair fate may be-     to give milk throughout the
fall him.                            winter.
Fand, found.                         Foel, orfu, full.
Fcarder, further.                    Fouth, abundance, plenty..Farer seen, more knowing.           Fowl, folk.
Fash,-never.fash your thumb, be  Fow-sweel, full well.
not the least vexed, be easy.    F'ae, fro, or from.




GLOSSARY.                              99
Frtaise, to make a noise. We use        company after the giving of
to say " one makes a.fraise,"     thanks at the end of a meal.
when they boast, wonder, and  Graith7, furniture, harness, armour.
talk more of a matter than it is  To Grane, to groan.
worthy of, or will bear.       Grany, grandmother, any old woFreath the graith, to firoth the suds  man.
about the clothes in washing.   Gree, prize, victory.
Filndling, foundling.             Grveen, or qgrien, to long for.
Greet, to weep.  GrQat, wept.
G.                Grit, familiar.
Ga, gaw, gall.                     Grots, milled oats.
Gab, the mouth.  To Gab, to prate.  Gusty, savoury.
Gade, went, did go.                Gyte, gane gyte, acts extravagantly.
To Gae, to go.
Gait, a goat.
Gane, gone.                        Iea, hall.
Gar, to cause, make, or force.    IBad, hold.
Gat, got.                         AHe, have.
Gate, or gait, way.                Adrf, half.
Gaw, to take the pet, to be galled.  ITacet, the cheek, side of the head.
Gawky, an idle, staring, idiotical _l1fiee, partly, in part.
person.                        liegabaeg, coarse table-linen.
Gawn, going.                       Haggies, a kind of pudding made
Gaws, galls.                           of the lungs and liver of a
Gay and early, pretty early.           sheep, and boiled in the big
To geek, to mock, to toss the head     bag.
with disdain.                  [ig-raid, witch-ridden, tormented
Gett, a brat, a child, by way of con-  by hags or phantoms.
tempt or derision.             _irait, or het, hot.
Ghaist, a ghost.                   Iaeith, (a minced oath,) faith..
Gi, if.                            Hald, or izad, hold.
Gin. if.                          lTale, whole.
Girn, to grin, snarl.              Halesome, wholesome.
Glen, a narrow  valley between  Fallen, a fence of turf, twigs, or
mountains.                         stone, built at the side of a
Gloom, to scowl or frown.              cottage door, to screen from
Glow', to stare.                       the wind.
Gowans, daisies.                   laely, holy.
Gowd, gold.                       lcaly band, kirk session.
Goawk, the cuckoo. In derision, we  Faeme, home.
call a thoughtless fellow, and  lamely, friendly, frank, open,
one who harps too long on one      kind.
subject, a gowk.                ZappingZ, hopping.
Grace-drink, the drink taken by a I ~lapt, covered.




100                        GLOSSARY.
flarigalds, the  heart, liver, and
lights of an animal.                             K.
Hawlky, a cow; a white-faced cow..Xcaim, or iame, comb.
Ifawvse, or hauss, the throat or gullet.  Kdle, or kail, colewort; and somectvswslock, the wool that grows on        times, broth.
the hawse or throat.             Hanny, or cacnny, fortunate; also,
Ifleatsome, blythe and happy.             wary, one who manages his
Heeryestreen, the night before yes-       affairs discreetly; cautious.
ternight.                       Iledgy, or cadg7ie, jovial.
effis, or hefts, dwells.             Ifeep vp, hide, or retain.
Heghts, or hechits, promises, engage- Iern, to know.
ments, proffers.                 Hefnna, know not.
[Iet, hot.                             enat, a long staff, such as shepflether-bells, the heath-blossom.         herds  use for leaping  over
Hidclils, or hidlings, lurking, hi-       ditches.
ding-places.  To do a thing in  KIlted, tucked ulp.
7hidlings, i. e., privately.     IfTirn2,  a churn; to churn.
Hinder, last.                        Ifltted, kept in a small wooden vesTo fling, to hang.                        sel.
fuinny, honey.                       eUttle, difficult, mysterious, knotty
flis.sel-shaw, hazel-wood.                (writings).
fIobleshew, confused racket, uproar.  Kbttle, to tickle, ticklish; vexatious.
Hodrden-giey, coarse grey cloth.      HKZit  p t7hensells, hang up themlool, husk, shell.                        selves.
fIow, low ground, a hollow.          Knoow, a hillock, a knoll.
lBowdy, a midwife.                    0owv goblin.  See Aotes, p. 89.
Howkc, to dig.                       Hiy, kine or cows.
Irowms, hobms, plains on river-sides.
HotW! fy!                                             L.
Lair, or lear, learning; to learn.
~I.                Laith, loth.
ll/, each. 1ka, every.               Lake, lack.
Of that ilk/, of an estate having the  Landwart, the country, or belongsame name as the owner.              ing to it; rustic.
Ingan, onion.                        Lane, alone.
Ingle, fire.                         Lang, long.
Tse, I shall; as, 1P11, for I will.  Lan gsome, slow, tedious.
Ither, other.                        Lang-syne, long ago; sometirnes
used as a substantive noun,
J.                      auld lang-syne, old times byJaccacinths, hyacintns.                   past.
Jaw, a wave or gush of water.        Lap, leaped.
Jee, to incline on one side.         Lave, the rest or remainder.
Jo, sweetheart.                     aLcvrock, the lark.




GLOSSARY.                             101
Zeal, or leel, true, upright, honest, MJaik, or make, to match, equal.
fiithful to trust, loyal; " a leal iailebn, a farm.
heart never lied."             Main, or mane, moan.
Lee, untilled ground; also an open  lfair, more.
grassy plain.                  isaist, most.
Leek, —clean's a leek, perfectly clever  ifVansworn, perjured.
and right.                      Mavis, a thrush.
Leen, cease, give up, yield.       llaunn, must. Mauena, must not,
Leglen, a milking-pail with one lug     may not.
or handle.          l~azvt, malt.
Len, lend, loan.                   Mear, mare.
Let na on,, do not divulge.        Mleikle, much, big, great, large.
Leugh, laughed.                    -Menin,  minnow.
Lick, to whip or beat; a blow.    Mferl, the blackbird.
Lied, ye lied, ye tell a lie.      Midding, a dunghill.
LIft, the sky or firmament.        Milk-bowie, milking-pail.
Lills, the holes of a wind instru- Miint, aim, endeavour, to attempt.
ment of music; hence, "lilt Miric, dark.
up a spring."                  Marisca, to give names.
Lin, a waterfall.                  Mither, mother.
Linzkcan, walking speedily.        Mittons, woollen gloves.
Loan, or loaning, a passage for the  Mo1ny, many.
cattle to go to pasture, left, un- Mools, the earth of the grave.
tilled; a little common, where iMotty, full of motes.
the maids often assembled to  M-obu, or bmo, mouth.
milk the ewes.                 Meows, nae mows, no jest.
Loe, or loo, to love.              M~uck, dun1g.
Loof, the hollow of the hand.      Muickle, see Meikle.
Lounder, a sound blow.
Iout, to bow down, making cour-                    N.
tesy; to stoop.                Nra, nae, no, not.
Low, flame. Lowan, flaming.        iVathing, naething, naiting, nothLowp:, to leap.                        ing.
Lovwrie, lawtrie, cunning; a desig- Nane, none.
nation given to the fox.       Near-hand, nearly, almost.
L'ucky, grandmother, or goody.     Neist, next.
Lug, ear; handle of a pot or vessel. Neswcal, new calved (cows.)
LsZggie, a dish of wood with a han-  Nleuangle, fond of a new thing.
dle.                           Nribour, neighbour.
Lbug out, pull or draw out.         Sick, —auld NVick, the devil.
Lyart, hoary or grey-haired.       Nive, the fist.
NeAocht, nought, not.
M.                 ffor, than.
Airae, more.                      ffowt, cows, kinA




1 02                       GLOSSARY Y
Nciwther, neither.                   Propine, gift or present.
Pu, pull.
0.                  Pund, pound.
Obeysanct, obedient.                 Putt a stane, throw a big stone
O'Cerome, surplus.
O'erpuet,-ne'er o'erput it, never get                Q.
over it.                         Quean, a young woman.
Onstead, the building on a farlm,  Quey, a young cow.
the farm-house.
Ony, any.                                            R.
Or, sometimes used for ere, or be-  Racket rent, rack-rent.
fore.  Or0  day, i. e., before  Rae, a roe.
daybreak.                        Rair, or rcare, roar.
Orp, to weep with a convulsive  Rashes, rushes.
pant.                           -Redd, to rid, unravel; to separate
Oqvk, week.                              folLs that are fighting.  It also
Owrlay, a cravat.                        signifies clearing of any pasO w'sen, oxen.                           sage.  "II am r'edd," I am apOcter, the armpit.                       prehensive.
Red up, to put in order.
P.                   Ree7c, smoke.
Pat, did put.                        Rieest, to rust, or dry in the smoke.
Patghty, proud, haughty.             Rever, a robber or pirate.
Paw7y, witty or sly in word or ac- Rife, or ryfe, plenty.
tion, without any harm or bad  Rigs of corn, ridges.
designs.                         Rin, run..Peets, turf for fire.               Rock, a distaff.
Pensy, finical, foppish, conceited.   Roose, or?ruse, to commend, extol.
Pit, to put.                         Rooeeve, to rivet.
Pith, strength, might, force.        Rouades, a wrinkled, ill-natured woPlaiding, a coarse tweeled woollen        man.
cloth.                           Rousted, rusted.
Plet, plaited.                       Row, roll.
Plotcock, the devil.                 Rowan, rolling..Poinds youer gear, distrains your  Rowt, to roar, espocially the lowing
effects.                             of bulls and cows.
Poke, bag.                           Rowth, plenty.
Pople, or paple, the bubbling, purl-  Rtuck, a rick or stack of hay or
ing, or boiling up of water.         corn.
Poortith, poverty.                   Rumple, the Rump parliament.
Poeu, pull.
Poutch, a pocket.                                     S.
Pow, the poll, the head.             Sae, so.
Prit, a pin.                         Saebiens, seeing it is, since.




GLOSSARY.                               103
Scaft, soft.                         Slee, sly.
Sair, or sare, sore.                 Slid, smooth, cunning, shllppery;
Sakeless, or saikless, guiltless, inno-   as, " he's a slid loun."
cent, frlee.                     Sma, small.
Sald, sold.                          Smoor, to smother,
Sall, shall; like soud for should.,Snaw, snow.
Sarnen, same.                        Snod, the band for tying up a woSan.g, song.                              malls hair.
dszark, a shirt.                     Snrool, to dispirit by chiding, hard
Saculh, a willow or sallow tree.          labour, and the lilke; also, a
Saul, soul.                               pitiful grovelling slave.
Saw, an old saying, or proverbial ionsy, happy, fortunate, lucky;
expression,.                         sometimes used for large and
Sawnr, sown.                              lusty; plump, thriving.
Sax, six.                            Sorn., to spunge, or hang on others
Scad, or scawd, 8scald.                   for maintenance.
Scart, to scratch.                   Sough, the sound of wind among
Scrtimp, narrow, straitened, little.      trees, or of one sleeping.
Sell, self.                           Spae, to foretell or divine. Spaemen
Sey, to try.                              prophets, augurs.
Shaw, a wood or forest.              Spain, to wean from the breast.
To Shaw, to show.                    Spait, or spate, a torrent, flood, or
Shellycoat, a goblin, a spirit who re-    inundation.
sides in the waters.            Speec', to ask, inquire.
Sheveling-gabit, having a distorted  Spill, to spoil, abuse.
mouth.                           Sprairngs, stripes of different colS7S0coZ, shoes.                           oulrs.
Shore, to threaten.                  Sprsing, a tune on a musical instruSic, such.                                ment.
Siccan, such kind of.                Sta, stall.
Siller, silver.                      Stane, stone; a weight of 16 lbs.
dimmer, sunmer.                      Stang, did sting, to sting.
Sindle, or sinle, seldom.            Stap, stop.
Singand, singing.                    Starns, the stars.
Si.nsyne, since that time; lang sin-  Staw, stole.
syne, long ago.                  Steek, to shut, close,
Shai'r, share.                       Stegh, to cram.,Skaith, hurt, damage, loss.         Slend, or sten, to move with a hasty
Skelf, shelf.                             long pace; to spring.
Skelp, to  run;  to flog the but-  Stent, to stretch or extend; to limtocks.                               it or stint.
Skcff, to move smoothly along.       Stock-and-horn, a shepherd's pipe,
Slaw, slow.                               made  by  inserting  a  reed
Sled, sledge, sleigh.                     pierced  like  a flute  into  a




104                       GLOSSARY.
cow's horn; the mouth-piece  Tocher,-but tocher-good, without
is like that of a hautboy.         dowry.
Stown, stolen.                      Ted, a fox.
Strae, straw.                       2bd Lazwrie, a fox.
Strak, struck.                      Tooly, to fight; to scramble; to
Strrapaen, clever, tall,.handsome.      romp.
Sung, singed.                       Toorn, empty, applied to a barrel,
Swvat, did sweat.                       purse, house, &c.; also, to
Swit7h, quickly.                        empty.
Syne, afterwards, then; since.      Tot, a fondling name given to a
child.
T.                 Tozuse, tozsle, or towsze., to rumple,
Ta.id, a toad.                         to handle roughly.
Tld, told.                          ToUwin'd, tamed.
Tune, taken.                        Townoend, a year or twelvemonth.
Tarroow, to refuse what we love,  Tozvzie, to handle roughly.
from a cross humour.            Trig, neat, handsome.
Tass, a little dram-cup.            Tr'iste, or tryst, appointment.
Tate, a small lock of hair, or any  Troin, an instrument erected in evlittle quantity of wool, cotton,    cry burgh in Scotland, for the
&c.                                 w weighing of wool and other
Taz, a whip or scourge.                 heavy wares.
Tlent, to attend, to take care of; to  Trow, to believe.
observe, to remark.            Telzsie, a quarrel or broil.
Thack, thatch.                      Twa three, two or three.'Thae, those.                       Twitch, touch.
Than, then.                        Tyke, a dog of one of the larger and
Thievless, wanting  propriety, un-     common breeds.
meaning.
Thitle, to thrill.                                 U.
Thole, to endure, suffer.           Uneith, not easy.
Thove, thaw.                       Ulnfother'd, not foddered.
Thraeng, throng.                    UrnLo, or snCO: unknlown, strange;
ThLrawart, froward, cross, crabbed.     very.
Thrawin, stern and cross-grained.   U esosy. llnlucky uoly
Thrawn-gabet, wry-mouthed.
Tift, good order. In tift, in the                  V.
mood.
mo.Vle, a  ferrule.
Tilt, to.  Till't, to it.           Vie a ferrule.
Timme',-tu.wnl  th7e to nsees, put  Vissy, to view with care.
round the cup.
Tine, or tyne, to lose.  Tint, lost.              W.
Titty, sister.                      Wia, or wlaw, wall.
Tcoker, portion, dowry.          aI d, would.




GLOSSARY.                            105
Wadna, would not.                 Whop, whip.
Wae, sorrowful; woe.              WVill-fire, wild fire.
WTviefu', woeful.                 Wimrpling, a turning backward and
War, wandering by itself; worth-     forward, winding like the meless.                             auders of a river.
Male, to pick and choose; the  Win, or won, to reside, dwell.
best.                        Mtinna, will not.
TYame, womb, the belly.           Winsom, gaining, desirable, agreeWMran, won.                          able, complete, large, handWTrar, or warse, worse.               some, charming.
Ware, wares, merchandise; to ex-  Withershins, motion  against the
pend.                             sun.
Wrark-k, work.                    Wobster,-the deel gaes o'er,Jo7hn.
Tarld, world.                        Wobster, the devil's to pay.
Warlock, wizard.                  To Wton, to dry by exposing to the
Warst, worst.                        sun and air.
WVat, or wit, to know.            WTrond, wound, wrapped around.
Wather, a male sheep that has been  Woo, or w, wool.
gelded while a lamb.           Mood, mad.
Watna-whates, knlow-not-whats.    Wroody, the gallows: for, a withy
Wat2k, or wawk, to walk; to watch.    was formerly used as a rope
TVawking, watching.                  for hanging criminals.
We'lan, or wee ane, a child.     WTIordy, worthy.
Wear vp, to drive off.            Tow, wonderful, strange.
Wee, little.                     Ti'ang, wrong.
Ween, thought, imagined, sup-  WTMreaths of snow, when heaps of
posed.                            it are blown together by the
Weer, to stop or oppose.             wind.
Westlin, westerly, westward.     BWyZe, or wile, to entice.
West-Port, the sheep market-place  Wyte, or oite, to blame, blame.
of Ecdinburgh.
Wha, who.                                       Y
Whase, whose.                     Yestreen, yesternight.
W7hiik, which.                    Yont, beyond.
T1Whkindgin7g, whining, whimpering.  Y~ouditth, youthfulness.
Whins, furze.                     Youl, to yell.
Whiz.sht, hush, hold your peace.    YEule, Christmas.








CATALO GUE
OF THE
SCOTTISH POETS,
FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD.
Sages and chiefs long sitlce lad birtoh
Ere Cesar was, or Newtoon iamz'ld;
These rais'd nete empires o'er tie eartk, —
And those, new ol eav'.ls ad systems fram'd:
Vain was  the ciej's, the sages' pride!
They had 00o poet, and theoy died.
Ino vain the/ schemi'd, iso vait they bledl!
Tl2ej/ had no pot, atdw a1re dea l.
A. PoPE,
Book Catalogues nre to men of letters what the compas sand the lightlouse are to the mnariner,
the railroad to the merchant, the telegraph wires to the editor, the digested index to the lawyer,
the pharmacopoein and the dispensatory to the physician, thle sign-post to the traveller, tlhe screw,
the wedge, and the lever to the mech:aic; in short, they are the labour-saving macllines, the colncorldances, of literature.....wo............                    Oto....e..o..O.......... Ws&s1,ERTfN ME.[ORAILIA.
NEW  YORK:
WILLIAM  GOWANS.
1852.








CATALOGUE
OF THE
SCOTTISH POETS,
AND OF THE BEST EDITIONS OF THEIR WORKS.
ADAMSON, H. The Muse's Threnodie, or, Mirthful Mournings; and
a Poetical Description of Perth. Map. 8vo.          Perth, 1774.
ADAMSON, JOHN. The Muse's Welcome to the high and mighty
prince James, king of Great Britaine, France,.and Ireland, after his
happy return to his old and native kingdomne of Scotland, after XIIf
years absence. Folio.                          Edinburgh, 161S.
ADAMSON, PATRICK. (Archbishop of St. Anidrews.) Paraphrase of
the Book of Job.                                           1597.
ANDERSON, PATRICK.  The Picture of a Scotish Baron Court:
a Dramatic Poem. 121mo. pp. 48.                Edinburgh, 1821.
AINSLIE, HEW. A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns, interspersed
with Poems and Songs. 12mo.                                1820.
ALLAN, EDWARD. OriginalPoems. 12mo. pp. 108. Glasgow, 1836.
ALLAN, ROBERT. Evening Hours: Poems and Songs. 12mno. pp.
237.                                              Glasgow, 1836.
ALVES, ROBERT.  The Weeping Bard, and other Miscellaneous
Poems.                                                     1789.
ANE PLEASANT GARLAND of Sweet Scented Flowers. 4to. pp.
31.                                                        1835.
ANSTRUTHER, SIR WILLIAM. Essays, Moral and Divine; interspersed with Poetry.                                       1701.
ARBUTHNOT, ALEXANDER. Miseries of a Poor Scholar, Praise of
Womene1  Love, &c., &c.                                   1583.
ARBUTIINOT, JOHN, M. D. Aye and N2o: a Poem.                  N. D.
ARMSTRONG, JOHN. Art of Preserving I-ealth, and other Poems
and Plays. 2 vols. 12mo.                          London, 1770.
ARMSTRONG, JOtIN. Juvenile Poems, with Remarks on Poetry.
1791.
AYTON, SIR ROBERT. Poems on Woman's Inconstancy.               1600.




4                CATALOGUE OF THE
BAILLIE, JOANNA.  Poems, Songs, and Plays.  8vo.  pp. 847.
$4.00.                                          London, 1851.
BALFOUR, ALEXANDER. Characters omitted in Crabbe's Parish
Eegister, with other Tales. 12mo. pp. 277.    Edinburgh, 1825.
BALFOUR, SIR JAMES. (Ballads, and other Fugitive Poetical Pieces,
chiefly Scottish, firom the collection of) 4to.    Edinburgh, 1834.
BALNAVES, HENRY. A Poetical Rhapsody.                       N. D.
BANNATYNE, GEORGE. (Ane Ballet Book, written in the year of
God 1558; and Ancient Scottish Poems, published from the MS.
of)                                                     N. D.
BARBOUR, JOIHN.  The Bruce and Wallace; or, the Metrical History
of Robert I. King of Scots, and Sir William Wallace.  Ptublished
from  a manuscript dated 1489, as preserved in the Advocate's
Library, with Notes, Glossary, and a Memoir of the Life of the
Author. By John Jamieson. 2 vols. 4to. pp. 625 and 664.
Edinburgh, 1820.
BARCLAY, ALEXANDER. IHere begynneth the Eglogues, whereof
the fyrst thre conteyneth the Myseryes of Courters and Courts of all
Prynces in general. The fourth conteyning the Manners of Rich
Men anenst Poets and other Clerks.                      N. D.
BARCLAY, JOHN. A Description, in verse, of the Roman Catholic
Church.                                                  1679.
BARCLAY, L. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish idiom. 12mo. pp. 185.
Glasgow, 1832.
BARRY, THOMAS. (Provost of Botnvuell.) The Battle of Otterburn
Bower. M.S.                                              1338.
BEATTIE, JAMES. Original Poemus and Translations. 8vo. pp. 198.
London, 1760.
BEATTIE, JAMES HAY. Literary and Poetical Remains.           1800.
BELL, JOHN. Cartlane Craigs: a Poem.  12mo. pp. 73.'~              I ~Edinbur'gh, 1816.
BELLENDEN, JOHN. (Transleator of R1ector BBe.) The Proheme
of the Cosmographe. Folio.                               1556.
BINNEY, JAMES. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 18mo.
Kelso7 1815.
BLACK, R. JOHN. The Falls of Clyde; or, the Fairies. A Scottish
Dramatic Pastoral, in Five Acts, with Three Preliminary Dissertations. 8vo. pp. 241.                          Edinburgh, 1806.
BLACKLOCK, TIIOMAS. A Collection of Original Poems. 2 vols.
12mo. pp. 239 and 260.                        Edinburgh, 1760.
BLACKWOOD, ADAM. De Jure Regni.                              1644.
BLAIR, JOHN. (Chcplacin to Sir William  JtVallace.) A History of
Wallace, in verse; written jointly by hin and Thomas Gray. N. D.
BLAIR, ROBERT. The Grave, and other Poems.   Edinburgh, 1731.
BLAMIRE, MISS. Songs in the Scottish dialect.               N.D.
BOSWELL, SIR ALEXANDER. Songs, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 8vo. pp. 34.                            Edinburgh, 1803.
BOYD, MARK ALEXANDER. Poems-Latin, English, and Scottish.
1601.




SCOTTISH POETS.                               5
BOYD, ZACHARIAH. A Poetical Version of the Bible, and other
Poems.                                                      1643.
BROWN, HUGHI. The Covenanters, and other Poems.                 1825.
BRUCE, MICHAEL. Poems on Several Occasions. 12mo. pp. 176.
Edinblurgh, 1807.
BRUCE, GEORGE.  Poems and Songs on Various Occasions. Svo.
pp. 203.                                        Edinburgh, 1811.
BUCHAN, P. The Recreation of Leisure Hours; being orininal Songs
and Verses, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 18mo. pp. 138.
Edinburgh, N. D.
BUTCHANAN, ANDREW. Rural Poetry. 12mo. pp. 148.
Stirling, 1817.
BUCHANAN, DUGALD. (Schoolmaster at BRannoch.) Poems in the
Gaelic language.                                            1770.
BUCHANAN, GEORGE. A Latin Version of the Psalms of David,
Satires, Epigrams, and Plays.                               1600.
BUREL, JOHN. The Description of the Queen's Majestie's Maist
Honorable Entree into the Town of Edinburgh, upon the 19th day
of May, 1590.                                               1590.
BURNE, NICOL. The Disputation concerning the controverted Heads
of Religion holden in the realme of Scotland.  (A poetical satire
agailnst the Reformers.)  An Admonition to the Antichristian Ministers of the Deformed Kirk of Scotland.                    1581.
BURNES, JOHN.  Plays, Poems, Tales, and other Pieces. 12mo.
pp. 317.                                          Montrose, 1819.
BURNS, ROBERT (of Hamilton).  Poems and Songs, chiefly in the
Scottish dialect.                                           1798.
BURNS, ROBERT. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect.  Original
edition.  8vo.                                 Kilmarnock, 1786.
BURNS, ROBERT. Poems, chiefly in t3he Scottish dialect. 8vo. pp.
368. Portrait (original.Edinburgh. editionj.   Edinburgh, 1787.
IBURNS, ROBERT. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect.  2 vols.
Small Svo. pp. 249 and 283. Second edition.    Edinburgh, 1793.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, with an account of his Life, and a
criticism  on his Writings. To which is added Some Observations
on the Character of the Scotish Peasantry, with a copious Glossary.
By.Dr. J. Currie. 4 vols. 8vo. pp. 395, 469, 425, and 414.
London, 1802.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, with his Life, and nulnmeros woodcuts by Bewiclc, after Thuriston. 2 vols. 12mno.    Newcastle, 1808.
BURNS, ROBERT. Poemns, with an account of his Life and Miscellaneous Remarks on his Writings, containing also many Poemns and
Letters not printed in Dr. Currie's edition. 2 vols.  8rvo.  pp. 320
and 379.                                        Edinburgh, 1811.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, edited by the Ettrick Shepherd
and William Motherwell. 5 vols. 12mo. pp. 344, 328, 348, 383,
and 425. Fifteen engravings.                       Glasgow, 188).
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, with a Life by Allan Cunningham.
8 vols. 12mo. pp. 384, 345, 346, 377, 336, 329, 344, and 384. (Sixteen engravings.)                                  London, 1834.




6                 CATALOGUE OF THE
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, containing his Life by Johnm Lockhart; the Poetry and Correspondence of Dr. Currie's edition; Biographical Sketches of the Poet by himself, Gilbert Burns, Professor
Sttlart, and others; Essay on Scottish Poetry; Btnrns's Sonllo from
Johnson's MLsical Museum and Thompson's Select Melodies, Select Scottishl Songs by other Poets, from the best collections, with
Burns's Remarks. 8vo. pp. 591.                  Edinburgh, 1837.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Poems of. A ne-w, edition, with additional
Poems, a new Life of the Author and Notes, edited by Sir HIarris
Nicolas. 3 vols. 12mo.                             London, 18839.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Works of, with a Life by All:   n Cunninhlmln
and Notes by Gilbert Burns, Lord Byron, Thomias Campbell, Thomas Carlyle, Robert Chambers, Win. Cowper, Cromek, Allan Cauning'lrlam,  lDr. Carrie, Win. Hazlitt, James  I[ooo, Lord Fmrancis
Je-ffey, T. Landseer, J. Lockllart, W. Motherwell, Sir Walter Scott,
Professor John Wilson, and Win. Wordsworth. Royal 8vo. P1p.
820.                                                London, 1846.
BURNS, ROBERT. The Life and Works of, edited by Robert Chanmbers. 4 vols. 12lmo.                            Edinburgh, 1852.
BURT, JOHIN. Horle Pocties; or, the Transienit Musings of a solitary
Lyre, consisting of Poems and Songs in English and Scotch. 18mo.
pp. 194.                                  BuLrlington, N. J., 1819.
CAMERON, WILLIAM.  A  Poetical Dialogue on Reliion,. iin the
Scottish dialect, between two Gentlemen and two Plougilinen-  and
two additional Cantos to Dr. Beattie's Minstrel.   Edclinburgh, 1788.
CAMPBELL, GEORGE. Poems and Songs, &e. Born 1761.
CAMPBELL, THOMIAS. The Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyomingw, Theodoric, Pilgrims of Glencoe, and other Poeiris and Songs.
V. Y.
CHAMBERS, ROBERT. Poems by. 4to. pp. 48. Edinburgh, 1835.
CRICI-ITON, JAMIES. (T/Ae Admitrable.)  Latin Poems. Sine loco, sin
anine.
CHURCIIYARD, THOMAS. Chips concerning Scotland, being a collection of his Pieces relative to that country;  with Historical Notes,
and a Life of the Author. (Edited by George Chalmers.) 12mo.
pp. 221.                                            London, 1817.
CLAPPERTON, -.  Wa Worth Maryage!                              N. D.
CLARKE, WILLIAM.  The Grand Tryal; or, Poetical Exercitations
upon tle Book of Job.                                        1685.
CLELAND, WILLIAMI.  A collection of several Poems and Verses
composed upon various occasions. 12mo. pp. 140.             1697.
COCHIRAN, WILLIAM. The Seasons, in Four Descriptive Poems,
witIl Moral Reflections and Hymns.                          1780.
COCKBURN, MRS.  The Flowers of the Forest, and other Songs.
N. D.
COLVIL, R. The Caledonian Hero, and other Poems.  8vo.          1788.
COLVIL, SAMUEL. The Whigs' Supplication; or, the Scotch HIIudibras: a mock Poem, in two parts. 18nmo.  pp. 148.
St. Andrews, 1796.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              7
COSWPER, ROBERT. Poetry, chiefly in the Scottish langulaoge. 2 vols.
12mo. pp. 285.                         Inverness, Scotland, 1808.
CRAWFORD, ARCHIBALD. The Rash Vow, Bonnie Mary- Hay, and
other Songs and Poems.                                     1825.
CRAWFORD, DAVID. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect; and
two Conmedies, namlely, Courtship / la Mode, Love at First Sight,
~and Love Epistles in Verse.                    Edinburghll, 1798.
CRAWFORD, ROBERT. The Bush aboon Traquair, and other Sonzs.
1732.
CRAIG, ALEXANDER. Amorous Songs, Sonnets, and Eleaies. 4to.
London, 1604.
CRAIG, JOITN. Poems. 12mo. pp. 147.                 Edinburgh, 1827.
CUNNINGHAM, A. (Earl of Glencair'n.) Epistles, and other Poems.
1542.
CUNNINGHAM, ALLAN.  Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, a Dramatic
Poem; the Mermaid of Galloway;  the Legend of Richard Foulder; and twenty Scottish Songs. 12mo. pp. 210.  London, 1822.
CUNNINGHI AM, ALLAN. The Maid of Elvar. A Poem, in Twelve
Parts. 12mo.                                       London, 1802.
CUNNINGHAM, TIIOMAS M.  Har'st E'irn, and other Poems and
Songs.                                                     1797.
DALRYMPLE, JAMES. A Collection of Songs.                       1756.
DALYELL, JOtIN. Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century. 2 vols.
12mo. pp. 161 tand 380.                         Edinburgh, 1802.
DALZIEL, GAVIN. John and Saunders, a Pastoral; and the Downfall of Napoleon, with other Poems.                        1792.
DAVIDSON, JOIIN.  The Poetical Remains of, with a Biographical
Account of the Author. 12mo. pp. 73.           Edinburgh, 1829.
DEMPSTER, THOMAS. Poems and Plays.                             N. D.
DIXON, JAMES H. Scottish Traditional  Versions of Ancient Ballads. 12mo.                                       London, 1845.
DOIG, DAVID, LL. D. Panoramic Poems.                           N. D.
DONALDSON, JAMES.  (Ftrmer.)  A Pick Tooth for Swearers; or,
at Looking-glass for Atheists and Profane Persons: and Husbandry,
Anatomized.                                                169S.
DONALD, ANDREW. Plays, Poems, and Songs.               London, 1787.
DOW, ALEXANDER. Plays and Poerns.                              1769.
DOUGLAS, FRANCIS. (Baker.) Rural Love, a Tale in the Scottish
dialect, and the Birth Day.                                1741.
DOUGLAS, GAWIN.  (Bishop of Duneield.)  Satire on the Times;
quharin the Author schawes the Staet of thys Fals Warld, quhere all
Thyngs is turnit fra Vertue tye Vyce.                      N. D.
DOUGLAS, GAWIN. (Bishop of Dunikeld.) The Palice of Honour.
1553.
DOUGLAS, GAWIN.  (Bishop of Dcnkeld.)  Thle thisteen.Bu?.es of
Eneacldos, of the Famous Poet Virgill.  Translated out of Latlne
verses into Scottish mectir. Eveoy 2Bake having hys perticular P1rologue. 4to.                                       London, 1553.




8                 CATALOGUE OF THE
DOUGLAS, GAWIN. (Bishopl qf D unkeld.) Virgil's Eneis, translated
into Scottish verse by the falmous Gawin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld. A new edition, wherein many of the errors of the former
are corrected, and the defects supplied from  a.n excellent Mi$anzscript. To which is added a large Glossary, explainingl the difficult
words, which may serve for a Dictionary to the old Scottish lainguage.
To which is prefixed, an Account of the Author's Life and Writings,
from the best historical records. Folio. pp. 468, and a Glossary.
Edinburgh, 1710.
DOUGLAS, GAWIN. (Bishop *)f Dunneld.) A Description of Winter,
with his Great Storms and lTempests, and a Description of May.
N. 1.
DOUGLAS, R. K. Poems and Songs, chiefly Scottish.  12mno.  pp.
168.                                            Edinburgh, 1824.
DOUN, ROBERT. Poems in the Gaelic language.                    N. N.D.
DRUMMOND, SIR WILLIAM  (qf ilsawthornden). The Poems of, with
the Life of the Author, by Peter Cunningham.  12ino. pp. 386.
London, 1833.
DRUMMOND, THOMAS, LL. D. Poems Sacred to Religion.   1756.
DUDGEON, M. Songs, Poems, &c.                                   N. D.
DUNBAR, JOHN. Epigrams and Elegies.                             1616.
DUNBAR, WILLIAM. The Poems of, now first collected, with Notes,
and a Memoir of his Life, by David Laing. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 326
and 498. $5.50.                                 Edinburgh, 1834.
EGLISHAM, D. (The Dl)etractor of Btchanan.)  Latin Poems, &c.
ELLIOT, SIR GEORGE. Amynta, and other Poems.                    1725.
ERSKINE, ANDREW. Plays, Eclogues, and Songs.                     1670.
ERSKINE, HENRY. The Emigrant, a Poem; the Sensitive Plant and
the Nettle; Songs, &c.
ERSKINE, REV. RALPH. Gospel Sonnets, and other Poems.  1740.
ERSKINE, SIR DAVID. King James the First of,Scotland, a Tragedy
in Five Acts. 12mo. pp. 114.                         Kelso, 1827.
ERSKINE, SIR DAVID. King James the Fifth of Scotland, a Tragedy
in Five Acts. 12mo. pp. 145.                          Kelso, 1828.
EWEN, REV. JOHN. The Boatie Rows, and other Songs.              N. D.
FAIRLIE, ROBERT.  The Kalender of Man's Life, in Rhymn, andl
Moral Emblems.                                     London, 1638.
FALCONER, WILLIAM. The Shipwreck, and other Poems.   1785.
FENTON, PETER. (A Mhonk.) A.Metrical History of Robert Bruce.
M. S.                                                       1369.
FERGUSON, ROBERT. The Poetical Works of, with a copious Life
of the Author, and numerous engravings on wood by Bewiclc. 2
vols. 12mo. pp. 272 and 254.                    Newcastle, N. D.
FINLAY, JOHN. Wallace; or, The Vale of Ellerslie, with other
Poems. 121no. pp. 170.                             Glasgrow, 1806.
FINLAYSON, WILLIAM. Simple Scottish Rhymes. 12mo. pp. 166.
Paisley, 1815.
FISHER, JAMES.  (The Blind Mizsician.)  Poems on Various Subjects.                                           Dumfries, 1792.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              9
FLEMING, JOHN. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 12m1o.
pp. 151.                                      Cupar, Fife, 1803.
FORBES, ROBERT. Ajax's Speech to the Grecian Knobs, a Journal
to Portsmouth and a Shop Bill. Written in the broad Buchan dialect.                                          Edinburgh, 1795.
FORBES,  WILLIAM. The Dominie Deposed;( or, Intrigue with a
Young Lass. (In the Bucllhan dialect.)  ISmo.     Paisley, 1798.
FOWLER, WILLIAM.  The Tarantules of Love, and other Poems.
1627.
FRAME, JAMES. City Odes, and other Poems. 121no. pp. 172.
Glasgow, 1814.
FULLERTON, JOHN.  The Turtle-Dove, under the Absence and
Presence of her only Choice. 8vo.              Edinburgh, 1664.
FYFE, ARCHIBALD. Poems and Criticisms. 12mo. pp. 144.
Paisley, 1806.
GALL, RICHARD. Poems and Songs, with a Memoir of the Author.
12mo. pp. 168.                                 Edinburgh, 1819.
GALLOWAY, ROBERT.  (Bookseller'.)  Poems, Epistles, and Songs,
in the Scottish dialect.                         Glasgow, 1783.
GALT, JOHIN. Poems on Various Subjects. 8vo. pp. 104.
London, 1830.
GARDEN, F. (Lord Gac6denstone.) Miscellaneous Poems on Various
Subjects.                                                  1764.
GAUILD,  ItARRY. Poems and Songs. 12mo. pp. 226.
Aberdeen, 1828.
GEDDES, WILLIAM. The Saints' Recreation.                      1683.
GEDDES, ALEXANDER.  The Battle of Bangor; or, the Church's
Triumph, and other Poems.                                  1797.
GEMMEL, DAVID.  Shaws Water, a Poem in the Scottish dialect.
12mo. pp. 18.                                    Glasgow, 1828.
GERROND, JOHN. The Poetical and Prose Works, Travels, and
Remarks of. 12mo. pp. 224.                          Leith, 1813.
GIBSON, JOHN. Odes and other Poems. 18mo. pp. 127.
Edinburgh, 1818.
GILFILLAN, ROBERT.  Poems and Songs. Fifth edition. 12mo.
pp. 382.                                       Edinburgh, 1851.
GILMOUR, JOHN. Poetical Remains, Harvest Hone, Sabbath Sacrament, and other Poems. 12mo.                              1828.
GLASS, JOHN. The River Tay, a Fragment.                       N. D.
GLASS, WILLIAM.  Scenes of Gloamin, Original Scottish Songs.
12mo. pp. 48.                                          Stirling.
GLASS, WILLIAM. The Caledonian Parnassus: a Muserumn of Orioinal Scottish Songs. 12mo. pp. 64.              Edinburgh, 1812.
GLENCAIRN, ALEXANDER. (EarZ of.) Ane Epistle directed from
the Holy Heremite of Allareit to his Brethren of the Graye Freyre.
1566.
GLOVER, JANE. Author of " O'er the Moor amang the Heather."
1788.




10                CATALOGUE OF THE
GLASSFORD,' * *  BainniockburiD, a Poem  in Four Books. 8ro.
pp. 248.                                           Glasgow, 1810.
GOLDIE, JOTIN. Poems and Songs by Nichol Naino.                  1821.
GOLDIE, JOHI-N.  (The Poetic Secamna.)  The Deil's Burial, Death
and I)avie L., Ode to a I-Iaggis, and other Poems.           1826.
GORDON, GILBERT. A Poem in imitation of the Cherry and Sleae,
&c.                                                          1701.
GORDON, PATRICK.  The Famous ]7istorie of tf7e IRenounzel en.d
Valliacnt Prince Robe7rt, surnzamed thee Brutce, IKing qf Scotland, &c.,
and sundrie other Valiant Knights, both Scots and Engclish.  4to.
Dort, 1615.
GORDON, PATRICK. The First Boke of the Famous Ilistorve of
Penardo and Zlaessca, otherwyse called the Tfrrares oqf iove and Ambition. Done in Iferoick Verse. 8vo.                   Dort, 1615.
GInREME, JAMES. Poems on several occasions, with an accoiunt of
the Life of the Author by Dr. Anderson.          Edilbmugh, 1773.
GRAHAM, D. I-Iistory of the Rise, Progress, and Extinction of the
late Rebellion in 1745,'46. 8vo.                  Glasgow, 1774.
GRAHAME, JAMES. Poetical Works of. 8 vols. 12nmo. pp. 171, 14,
~aend 248.                                       Edinburgll, 1817.
GRAH-IAM, JOI-IN (of.ew PYohl). Songs, chiefly in the Scottish dialect.                                                       V. D.
GRAINGER, JOHN. Translation of the Elegies of Tibullas, Poemns
of Salpitia, and other Poems.                       London, 1758.
GRAHAM, JAMES.  (Jtarzquis of Aiontrose.)  Amatory Poems. N.D.
GRAIXAME, SI.MEON. The Passionate Sparke of a RelentinX Minde,
and the Anatoctie of hcrlonrs.                   Edinburoh, 1604.
GRANT, MRS. The HIighlanders, and other Poems. 12mo.  pp. 362.
Edinburgh, 1810.
GRAY, CHARLES. Lays and Lyrics. 12mo. pp. 272.
Edinburgh, 1841.
GRAY, CHARLES. Poems, &c., &c. 12mo. pp. 175. Cupar, 1811.
GRAY, ROBERT. Poems in the Scotch and English dialects.  8vo.
pp. 156.                                           Glasgow, 1793.
GRAY, SIMON. Edinburgh: or, The Ancient Royalty: a Sketch of
former IManners; with Notes. 12nmo. pp. 48.   Edinburlgh, 1816.
GREENFIELD, ANDREW. Poems, &c.                                   1790.
HAMILTON, CHARLES. (Lord Bi~nning.)  Ungrateful Nancy, and
the Duke of Argyle's Levee.                                  1740.
HAMILTON, ELIZABETH. Popular Opinions; or, a Picture of Real
Life exhibited in a Dialoogue betweenl a Scottish Farmer and a
Weaver, &c.,., &c., &c. To which is cadded an Epistle from the
Farmer to Elizabeth HItamilton in kScottizsh, TZerse. 8vo. pp. 108.
Glasogow, 1812.
HAMILTON, PAUL. Poems, Songs, and Translations, &c.    N. D.
HAMILTON, THOMAS. (Earl qf Iaddington,.)  Forty Select Poems,
on several occasions, and Tales in Verse.        Edinburfgh, 1735.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              11
HAMILTON, WILLIAMI  (of Ban.our). Poems on several occasions.
12mo. pp. 262. Portrait.                        Edinburgh, 1760.
HARPER, WILLIAM.  A Version of the Song of Solomon.
Edinburgh, 1775.
HARVEY, JOHN.  (iSc7ooblnaster.)  A  Collection of Miscellaneous
Poemns, and a Life of Robert Bruce in Verse,     Edinburgl, 1729.
HAY, PETER. An Heroic Songe.                          Aberdeen, 1647.
HENDERSON, ANDREW.  Tragedies, &c.                              1752.
HENRYSON, ROBERT. (Sc7oo2master of DDu',mfeinling.) Borrowstown
Mous nud the Landclwart Mous, nd other Fables. In Scottish
Verse.                                                       1575.
HERON, ROBERT. The Schoolniastcr-a Play, and other Poems. N. D.
IIETRICK, ROBERT.  (The Dalnmelliagtoa Poet.)  Craigs of Ness. A
Poem and other Poems and Songs.                              1S26.
HERVEY, JOIHN. The Life of Robert Bruce Kino, of Scots. An
HIeroic Poem, in Three Books. 4to. pp. 282.   Edinburgh, 1729.
HEWIT, ALEXANDER.  (Plougylina..) Poems on Various Subjects,
English abCd Scovtch. 12mo. pp. 159.               Berwick, 1823.
HIOFLAND, MRS. Wallace; or, the Fight of Falkirk.  A Metrical
Romance. 8vo. pp. 252.                              London, 1810.
IIOGG, JAMIES.  The Queen's VWakc.  A  Legendary Poem.  Svo.
pp. 356.                                         Edinburoh, 1818.
IIOGG, JAMXES. Queen  lynde. A Poem, in Six Books. 8vo. pp.
443.                                                Loncdon, 1825.
-IOGG, JAMIES. The Jacobite Relics of Scotland; beinro the Songs,
Airs, and Legcends of the Adherents to the House of Stuart, collected
and illustrated by James hfogr. 2 vols. 2  vo. pp. 444 and 488.
(lTVtith  lfusic.)'                 Edinburlgh 1819 acnd 1821.
HOGG, JAMES. Scottish Pastorals, Poems, Songs, &c., mostly written in the dialect of the South.  8vo. pp. 62.   Edinburlgh, 1802.
HIOGG, JAMES. Jock Johnstone the Tinkler. A Poem. See Blackwood for 1829.
HOGG, JAMNES. A Queer Book. (Poems.)  12mo. pp. 3897.
Edinburglh, 1832.
HOGG, JAMES.  Songs, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 12mo. pp.
317.                                            Edinburgh, 1831.
HOGG, JAMES. Drapnatic Tales, or Plaly in all f-oiu, namlely: AllItHllow Eve, Sir Anthony Moore, The Profligate Prince, alld The
Haunted Glen. 2 vols. 12no. pp. 274 and 271.  Edilnburgh, 1817.
TIOGG, JAMIES. The Mountain B.ard, consisting of Ballads alid Songs
founded on Facts and Legendary Tales. 8vo. pp. 476.
Edinburgh, 1821.
HOGG, JAMES. The Pilgrims of the Sun; a Poem. 8vo. pp. 148.
London, 1818.
IEOGG, JAMES. The Poetic Mirror; or, the Living Bards of Britain.
12mo. pp. 275.                                      London, 1816.
HOGG, JOHN. Poems on Different Subjects, in the Scottish dialect.
~12mo. pp. 128.                                     Hawick. 1806.
HOG(, AWILLIAM. Poems, chiefly in the Latin language.            1706.




12                CATALOGUE OF THE
HOLLAND, SIR  RICHARD.  The Buke of the Houlate; or, the
I)anger of Pride. An Allegorical Poem. (In MS.)             1450.
HOME, JOHN. Douglas; or, The Noble Shepherd: a Tragedy, and
other Plays. 3 vols. 8vo.                       Edinbnrgh, 1822.
HOPE, JOHN. Thoughts, in Prose and Verse.            Edinburgh, 1780.
ITOY, JOHN. Poens on Various Subjects.              Edinburgh, 1781.
HUDSON, THOMAS. IIistorie of Judeth, and Essays of an Aprentese in the Divine Art of Poesie.                           1600.
HUME, ALEXANDER.  Epistle to MToncrief; viz., Defeat of the
Spanish Armada, Flyting with Montgomery, &c.                1599.
IIHUME, ALEXANDER. Scottish Songs. 12mo.               London, 1835.
UTME, i)-AV.  Poems: chiefly Latin.                      Paris, 1639.
IMLAH, JOT-IN. May Flowers: Poems and Songs; some in the Scottisi7 lialect. 12sio. pp. 256.                     London, 1827.
INGLES, HENRY. Marican, and other Poems. Svo. pp. 144.
Edinburg1h, 1851.
INGLIS, SIR JAMIES. Poems, consisting of Songs, Ballads, Satires,
Plays, and Farces. (In AIS.)                         About 1513.
INGLIS, SIR JAiMES. The Complaynt of Scotland, written in 1.548,
with a Preliminary Dissertation and Glossary. 4to. pp. 384.
Edcinburh, 1801.
INGRAM, WILLIAM. Poems in the English and Scottish dillects.
Svo. pp. 126.                                    Aberdeen, 1812.
JAMES THIE FIRST.  (lingy of Scotland.)  The Works of'; to whicll
is appended an Historical anld Critical Dissertation on0 his Life and
Writings. 12ino. pp. 395.                          Glasgow, 1825.
JAMES THE FIFTH.  (Iting ef Scotland.)  Chryste's Kirk on the
Greene.                                                    N. D.
JAMES THE SIXTH.  (izingq of iScotland.)  Phoenix; a Metaphorical
Invention, Paraphrase on Lucian, Poem on Tyme, &c., &c.  1616.
JAMES THE SIXTH. (KIng oqf.Scotlagid.)  The Essayes of a Prentise in the Divine Art of Poesie. Withl a prefatory Memloir by R.
P. Giliies. 4to.                                Edinburgh, 1.814.
JAMES TIlE SIXTh.  (ICi;g, qf Scotland.)  His Majestie's Poetical Exercises at Vacant IIours. 4to.                  Edinburgh, N. D.
JAMIESON, J. Songs inspired by several occasions.             V. D.
JOHNSTON, ARTHUR. Parerga and Epigranimata, and a Latin Version of the Psalms of David.                                1632.
JOHNSTON, PATRICK. The Three Death'ts Heads.                   N. D.
KEITtI, C. The Farm's HI-a, and other Poems.                    1776.
KENNEDY, JOHN. Fancy's Tour with the Genius of Cruelty, and
Geordie Chalmers, or the Law in Glenbuckie.                 1807.
KENNEDY, WALTER. The Flyting between Dunbar and Kennedy,
and other Poems.                                            1508.
KERR, LYON. Scottish Poems, Songs, &c. 18mo. pp. 128.
Pertlh, 1802.
KERR, ROBERT. (Earl qf Ancramn.) Poems and Sonnets.
Edinbulrgh, 1624.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              13
KNOX, WILLIAM. The Harp of Zion. A Series of Lyric.s founded
on the Hebrew Scriptures. 12mo. pp. 190.        Edi1nburgh, 1825.
LAIDLAW, WILLIAM. Lucy's Flittin, and other Songs.             N. D.
LATMONT,,E. M. Poems and Tales in Verse. 12mo. pp. 179.
London, 1811.
LANDSBOROUGII, DAVID. Arron: a Poem. 12mo. pp. 176.
Edihsburgh, 1827.
LAPRAIK, JOTIN. (Contemporary and friend of Bvrns.)  Poems on
Several Occasions.  8vo. pp. 248.              Kilmarnoclk, 1788.
LEMON, JAMES. Original Poems and Songs-partly in the Scottish
dialect. 12mo. pp. 108.                           Glasgow, 1840.
LEYDEN, JOI-IN. Scottish Descriptive Poems; with some Illustrations of Scotch Literary Antiquity. 12mo. pp. 248: and Scenes
of Infanclly, descriptive of Teviotdale.  12lmo. pp. 184.
Edinburgh, 1803.
LEYDEN, JOIIN. The Poetical Remains of. With Memoirs of his
Life by James Morton. Svo. pp. 415.             Edinburgh, 1819.
LIDDLE, WILLIAM. Poems on Different Occasions, chliefly in the
Scottish dialect. 12ino. pp. 244.               Edinburgh, 1821.
LINEN, ALEXANDER. Poems, in the Scottish dialect, on Various
Occasions. 12mo.  pp. 300.                      Edinburgh, 1815.
LINDESAY, SIR DAVID. The Workis of the fanmous and worthie
Knic/ht Sc/hir ~L]ndesny of the 3lount, alias  y?/ozun King oqf Asmes.
NT;eWly correctit, and vindicated from the former errouris qulhairwith
they w ar befoir corruptit, and augmentit with sunldrie Warkis
qnhilk was not before imnprentit. The Contents of the Bnke, and
cuhat Wa'kis or augmentit, the nixt syde sall schaw1. (Fiirst collected eclitionb of this autlhors's qworks.) 4to.  Edinburllgh, 1568.
LINDSAY,  SIR DIAVID. ( Qf tAe 3~ount, IZiown, Kiny at Anrms ucnder
James V.) The Poetical W;orks of. A new edition, corrected and
enlargedl, with the Life of the Author, prefatory dissertations, and
an appropriate Glossary by George (]/almers. 3 vols. 12mo. pp.
470, 420, and 524.                              Edinburgh, 1810.
LINDSEY, ANN. Auld Robin Gray, and other Songs.                N. D.
LITHGOW, WILLIAM. Pilgrimn's Farewell to his Native Country of
Scotland, wherein is contained, in way of Dinalogrue, the Joyes and
Miseries of Peregrination.  With his Lamantado in his Second
Travels. 4to.                                   Edinburgh, 1618.
LITHGOW, WILLIAM. The Gushing Teares of Godly Sorrow, containing the Causes, Conditions, and Remedies of Sinne, depending
mainly upon Contrition and Confession. 4to.    Edinburgh, 1640.
LITTLE, JANET. (lTe Scottish Mil/kncaid.) Songs, &c.            1784.
LOCHORE, ROBERT. Poems and Songs in the Scottish dialect. 1799.
LOCKHART, CHARLES. Poems of, on Various Subjects, in which
are blended the Ilumourous and Pathetic. 121no. pp. 178.
Ayr, 1836.
LOCKHART, SIR  MUNGO.  Poems, &c. This author's works are
entirely lost.                                              1530.
LOGAN, JOIN. Poems and Plays, including a Life of the Author.
12mo. pp. 223.                                  Edinburgh, 1804.
2




14                CATALOGUE OF THE
LOVE, JAMES. Poems on Several Occasions. 8vo. pp. 115.
Edinburgh, 1756.
LOWE, DR. ALEXANDER..  Mary's DreaIm, and other Songs and
Poems.                                                     N. D.
LYLE, TIIOMAS. Ancient Ballads andl Songs, chiefly from Tradcition,
Manuscripts, andc Scarce Works, withl Biograpi ia   and Illustrative
Notices, ncluding O1iginal Poetry. ~2mo.  pp. 2,50. London, 1827.
MACAULAY, JAMES. Poems on Various Subjects, in Scotch and
English. 12mo. pp. 332.                         Edinburgh, 1788.
MACDONALD, ALEXANDER. Poems, in Gaelic. Svo.                    1751.
MAC'INI)OE, G. The Wandering Muse; or, a Miscellany of Original
Poetry. 12mo. pp. 228.                              Paisley, 1813.
MACLAURIN, JOHN.  (Loird Dreghorn.)  The Works of. 2 vols.
8vo. pp. 189 and 391.                           Edinburgih, 1798.
MACNEIL, tHECTOR.  The Poetical Works of.  A new edition, corrected and enlarged. Five plates and portrait. 2 vols. 12mo. pp.
163 and 196.                                    Edinburgh, 1806.
MIACNEIL, IIECTOR.  The Links of Forth; or, A Parting Peep at
the Carse o' Stirling. A Plaint. 8vo. pp. 60.  Edinburgh, 1799.
MACPHERSON, JAMES. Poetical Works. 12mo. pp. 118.
Edinburgli 1802.
MACPHI ERSON, DONALD. Melodies fiom  the Gaelic, and Original
Poemls, with Notes on the Superstitions of the Highlanders, &e.
12mo. pp. 225.                                     London, 1824.
MACQUEEN, THOMAS.  (i1fason.)  The Exile: a Poem  in Seven
Books. 12mo. pp. 166; and My Gloamnincg Amusements, a Variety of Poems on several serious and entertaining subjects.
Glasgow, 1836.
MACTAGGART, JOHN. The Scottish, (Caledonian Encyclopedia: or,
the Original, Antiquated, and Natural' Curiosities of the South of
Scotland-interspersed with Scottish Poetry. 8vo.  pp. 504.
London, 1824.
MAITLAND, SIR RICHARD. Auld Kyndness Poryett the Miseries
of the Tyme, &c.                                            1611.
MAITLAND, SIR RICHARD. Satire on the Town Ladies, The Age,
Malice of Poets, New Year, and other Poems. 4to.            1570.
MAITLAND, SIR RICHARD  (of letghiongton.). Poems. With an Appendix of Selections fiom the Poems of Sir John Maitland, Lord
Thirlstane, and of Thomas Maitland. 4to. pp. 246. Glasgow, 1830.
MAJORIBANKS, TI-IOMAS. Trifles in Verse, by a Youngo Soldier.
3 vols.                                            Kelso, 1774.
MALLET, DAVID.  Poetical Works. 3 vols. 12m1o. pp. 201, 2$4,
and 254.                                           London, 1760.
MATHISON, THOMAS. The Golf, an Heroic Poem, in Three Cantos.
11754.
MAYNE, JOHN. The Siller Gun, a Poem, in Five Cantos; and Glhsgow, aPoenm. 12mo. pp. 256.                        London, 1836.
MI'COLL, EVAN. The Mountain Minstrel; or, Poems and Songs in
English. 18mo. pp. 332.                         Edinburgh, 1838.
MERCER, JAMES. Lyric Poems, &e.                                 1804.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              15
MERCER, WILLIAM. England's Looking-glasse.                      N.D.
MESTON, WILLIAM. The Poetical Works,  12ino. pp. 240.
Edinburgh, 1767.
MICKLE, WILLIAM  JULIUS. The Poetical Works. Collected from
the best editions by Thomas Park. 241110mo. pp. 160.  London, 1808.
MITCHELL, JOHN. A  Night on the Banks of Doon, andl other
Poems. 12mno. pp. 162.                              Paisley, 1838.
MITCIIELL, JOSEPH. Pinky House, and other Poems and Plays.
2 vols.                                                     1729.
IM'KAY, ARCIIIBALD. Drouthy Tom, and other Poems, &c. N. D.
IhiOFFAT, JOHN. The Wif'e of Auchtermuchty, and other Poems.
N. D.
MOLLESON, ALEXANDER. Miscellanies in Prose and Verse. 12mo.
pp. 222.                                           Glasgow, 1805.
MONTEITIH, ROBERT. Fratres Fraterrimni Translated, andc Ane Theatre of' MIortality.                            Edinburg(h, 1704.
MONTGOMERY, ALEXANDER.  The Cherry and Sloe, with other
Poems and Songs, &c.                                        1575.
MONTGOMERY, JAMIES. The Wanderer of Switzerland, The West
Indies, The World before the Flood, Greenland, Songs of Zion,
The Pelican Islands, Prison Amusements, Miscellaneous Poemls,
Lectures on Poetry, Prose by a Poet, &c., &c.              V. D.
MOORE, DUGALD. The Bards of the North. A Series of Poetical
Tales illustrative of IHighlland Scenery and Character.  12mo. pp.
222.                                               Glasgow, 1833.
MOORE, JAMES. Spirit of the Scots and English Rebels in 1745
Characterized, and other Poems.                             1750.
MORRISON, DAVID.  Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 8vo.
pp. 224.                                          Montrose, 1790.
MOTHERWELL, WILLIAM. Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern, with
an Historical Introduction and Notes. 4to. pp. 518.
Glasgow, 1827.
MOTHERWELL, WILLIAM.  Poems, Narrative and Lyrical. 4to.
pp. 232.                                           Glasgow, 1832.
MOTH-IERWELL, VWILLIAM. Posthumous Poems. 12mo. pp. 187.
Boston, 1851.
MOUNTGOMERY, ALEXANDER. The Poems of, wit1h Biographical
Notices by David Irving. 12mo. pp. 319.         Edinburgh, 1821.
M'PHIEL, D. Songs in the Scottish dialect.                     V. ID.
BI'RAE, JOHN. Original Poems and Songs. 12mo. pp. 193.
Inverness, Scotland, 1816.
MURRAY, DAVID. The Tragical Death of Sophonisba, and other
Pieces.                                            London, 1611.
MURRAY, DAVID. (Viscount Slormont.)  Elegies, &c.               1715.
iMUIR, WILLIAM. Poems on Various Subjects, with Notes, Biographical and Critical. 12nmo. pp. 330.            Glasngo, 1818.
MYLNE, JAMES. Poems, consisting of Miscellaneous Pieces; and
two Tragedies. 8vo. pp. 435.                    Edinburgh, 1790.




416               CATALOGUE OF THE
NAPIER, JOHN. (Lord iMerci.ston.)  Poetical Version of thle $/bqillan
Orjacles.                                            Edinburgh.
NASMYTH, ARTHUR. Divine Poems, and The Man's Looking-glass.,Edinburgh, 1665.
NEILANS, ALEX.  The Hagis, and other Scottish Poems.           N. D.
NICOL, ALEXANDER. Nature without Art; or, Nature's Prayers
ini Poetry; and a Fourth Canto of Christ's Kirk on the Green. 1766.
NICOL, ROBERT. Poems and Lyrics.                    Edinburgh, 1835.'NICOL, JAMES.  Poemls, chiefly in the Scottish dialect.  2 vols.
12mo. pp. 196 and 194.                          Edinburgh, 1805.:NICITOLSON, WILLIAM. Tales in Verse, and Miscellaneous Poems.
12mo. pp. 262.                                  Edinburgh, 1814.
OGILBY, JOHN. Translations of Homer, AEsop, Virgil, and other
Poems.                                                      1649.
OGILVIE, JOIIN. Poems on Several Subjects.  2 voil. 8vo. pp. 29G
and 286.                                            Dublin, 1769.
OGIIVY, MRS. D.  A Book of Highland Minst'elsy, with Illustrations by R. R. M'Ian. 4to. pp. 272.                London, 1846.
OSWALD, JOHN. The Virgin's Dream, and other Poems.    N. D.
OSSIAN. The Poemis of, in the original Gaelic, with a literal translation into Latin by the late Robert Macfalian;  together with A
Disscrtation on the Authenticity of the Poems by Sir John Sinclair, Bart.; and a Translation from  the Italian of the Abb6 Cesacotti's Dissertation on the Controversy respectino the Authenticity
of Ossian, with Notes and a  lSupplementary Essay by John AM'Arthilur. Published under the sanction of the Highlancl Societv in
London. 3 vols. royal 8vo. pp. 500, 390, and 576.  Portrait of
Ossian.                                            London, 1807.
OSSIAN. The Poems of; &c., containing the Poetical Works of James
Macpherson, Esq., in Prose and Rhyme, with Notes and Illustrations by Malcolm Laing. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 579 and 634.
Edinbur'gh, 1805.
PACE, JAMES. Poems on Various Occasions. 18mno. pp. 95.
Edinburgh, 1804.
PAGAN, ISABEL.  (Asthior oqf "' Ca th/e Yowbes to the ]iisiowes.")  1797.
PANTI-ER, PATRICK, D. D.  Valliados, a Poem in Prais of Wallace.                                                       1633.
PARK, WILLIAM. The Vale of Esk, and other Poems. 12mo. pp.
206.                                            Edinburgh, 1833.
PATERSON, NINION. Epigrams, &c.                                 1679.
PATTERSON WILLIAM. Plays, &c.                                   1738.
PATTERSON, WALTER.  The Legend of Iona, with other Poems.
8ro. pp. 342.                                   Edinburghl, 1814.
PENNECUIK, ALEXANDER. The Works of, containing the Description of Tweeddale and Miscellaneous Poems. A new edition,
with copious Notes, forming a complete history of tile country to
the present time. 8vo.                          Edinburgh, 1815.
PICKEN, EBENEZER. Miscellaneous Poems, Songs, &c., partly in
the Scottish dialect, with a copious Glossary. 2 vols. 1Smo. pp.
199 and 183.                                    Edinburgh, 1818.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              17
PINKERTON, JOIIN. Rimes by. 12mo. pp. 226.   London, 1782.
PITCAIRNE, ARCHIBALD, M. D. Select Poems and Play-s.
London, 1 722.
PREEBLES, WILLIAMI. A poet and commentator on Burns; died
1826.
PRIMROSS, DAVID. Welcome to James's Return to Scotland. N. D.
PRINGLE, THOMAS. The Poetical Works of. 8vo. pp. 258. Portrait and two plates.                              Lolldon, 1839.
RAMSAY, ALLAN. Poems by. Portrait.  2 vols. 4to. (First collected edition.)                       Edinburgh, 1721 and 1728.
RAMSAY, ALLAN. The Poems of. A new edition, corrected ancl
enlaroged;  with a Glossary. To which are prefixed a Lifb of the
Author, friom  authentic documents; and RIemarks on his Poems
frorm a.lare view of their merits;  anthelltic Portrait, from an original drawing by his son, the late Allan Ramsay; fac simile of the
Poet's handwriting, and copper-engraved Vignette. 2 vols. 8vo.
pp. 573 and 608.                                   London, 1800.
RAMSAY, ANDREW. The Creation-the Happy Condition of Man
befbre the Fall.                                Edinblurgh, 1630.
RAMSAY, JOHN. Poems and Songs in the Scottish dialect.   N. D.
RANKIN, WILLIAM.  Poems on Different Subjects. 18mio.  pp.
127.                                                 Leith, 1812.
RENNIE, JOHN. Poems, Miscellaneous and Pastoral. 2 vols.
RICHARDSON, WILLIAM. Poems, chiefly Rural. 121o.    1775.
RICHARDSON, WILLIAM. The Maid of Lochlin, a Lyrical Drama,
with Legendary Odes, and other Poems. 12mo. pp. 123.
London, 1801.
RIDDELL, HENRY S. Songs of the Ark, and other Poems.  l2ino.
pp. 336.                                        Edinburgh, 1831.
ROBERTSON, ALEXANDER (of Strowean). Poems on Various Subjects and Occasions. 8vo. pp. 260.              Edinburgh, N. D.
RODGERS, ALEXANDER.  Poems and Songs, HIumorous and Satirical. 12mo. pp. 339.                            Glasgow, 1838.
ROLLAND, JOHN. Ane Treatise callit The Court of Venus; The
Seven Sages; and The Priest of Peblis: a Poetical Satire.    1542.
ROSS. ALEXANDER. A Picture of the Life of Christ taken from the
Georgics of Virgil.
ROSS, ALEXANDER. I-eleonore; or, The Fortunate Shepherdess:
a Poetical Tale. To which is added the Life of the Author, containing a particular description of the romantic place where he
lived, and an account of the manners and amusements of thle people
of that period, by his grandson, the Rev. Alexander Thomson.
12mo. pp. 200.                                     Dundee, 1812.
RUSSELL, WILLIAM, LL. D. Poems and Songs.                      N. D.
SADLOCK, M. Songs, chiefly in the Scottish dialect.            N. D.
SANDS, JOI-IN SIM. Poems on Various Subjects, Political, Satirical,
and Iumorous. 12mo. pp. 220.                      Arbroath, 18338.
2*




18                 CATALOGUE OF THE
SCOTT, ALEXANDER.  (The Scottis7 Anzacreon.) Lament of the
Master of Erskin, Adr yce to Wowars, Counsel to Lustie Ladies,
The Blate Lover, and other Poems.                            1550.
SCOTT, ALEXANDER. A  New  Year's Gift, addressed to Queen
Mary, when she came first haile.                             1562.
SCOTT, ANDREW.  Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 18mo.
pp. 204.                                              Kelso, 1811.
SCOTT, WVALTER. Ancient Chronicles and Traditions of our Fathers.
1688.
SCOTT, SIR WALTER. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border: Sir Tristram;l Lay of the Lalst Minstrel; Ballads, Translations, and Inlitations from the German; Marmion —a Tale of Floddlen Field; Lady
of the Lake; Rokeby; The Vision of Don Roderick; The Lord of
the Isles; Bridle of Tuermain; HIarold the Dauntless; The Field
of Waterloo; Plays; Miscellaneous and Occasional Poems, Songs,
&c.                                                         V,.VY.
SEMPIL, FRANCIS. The Banishment of Poverty, and she rose and
let me in.                                                   1688.
SEMPIL, SIR JAMES. The Packman and the Priest.                   1601.
SEMPLE, RO0BERT. Philetus, Ballat of Three Female Taverneers,
Fleming Borg, Elegy on IIabit, Simpson the Piper of Kilmarnock,
6&c.                                                         1568.
SHARP, ANDREWV. A Collection of Poems, Songs, and Epigrams in
Scotch, English, and Irish. 12mo. pp. 154.            Pertlh, 1820.
SHAW, QUIINTIN. Advice to a Courtier: a Poem.                    1560.
SItIRREFS, ANDREW. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 8vo.
pp. 406.                                         Edinburgh, 1790.
SILLAR, DAVID. (Coltempo?2ary ad clfriend qf Br'.ns.)  Poems by.
8vo. pp. 251.                                   Kilmnarnlock, 1789.
SIMSON, ANDREW. Trepatriarchicon, or the Lives of the three Patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, ancl Jacob, in Verse; aidc  Doleful Lamentations on the "' Hored Murther"' of Archbishop Sharp.     1705.
SIMPSON, WILLIAM  (qf Ochiiltree). Songs, &c.                    17S8.
SKINNER, REV. JOIIN. Amunsements of Leisure IIours, or Poetical
Pieces, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. To which is added a Sketch
of the Anthor's Life, with some lemarlks on Scottish Poetry.
12mo. pp. 144.                                   Edinburgh, 1809.
SMITH, THOMAS.   Moral, IIumorous, and Sentimental Poems.
12mo. pp. 836.                                     Glasgow, 1806.
SMART, ALEXANDER. Rlambling Rhymes. 1lmo. pp. 248.
Edinburgh, 1884.
SMOLLETT, TOBIAS,  r. D.  Tears of Scotland, Ode to Independence, and other Poems and Plays.                            1750.
STAGG, JOHNII. Miscellaneous Poems, some of which are in the
Cumberlandl dialect. 12mo. pp. 249.            Workington, 1805.
STEEL, DAVID. The Three Tales of the Three Priests of Peblcs
contayning many notybill Examples and Sentences; and King of
Roy Robert. 4to. (MS.)                                       1400.
STEVENSON, WILLIAM. Poems. 2 vols. 12mo.                         1765.




SCOTTISH POETS.                              19
STEWART, ALLAN. The Poetical Remains of, with a Memoir of the
Author. 12mo. pp. 144.                              Paisley, 1838.
STILL, PETER. The Cottar's Saturday, and other Poems, chiefly in
Scottish dialect.  18rno. pp. 216.             Philadelphia, 1846.
STIRRAT, JAMES. Poems and Songs, in the Scottish dialect. N. D.
STIRLING, EARL OF. (TTilliaml, Alexander.)  Recreations with the
Muses. Folio. pp. 594. Londo~n, 1637; and Doomes-day; or, the
Great Day of thle Lord's Judgment. 4to.          Edinburgh, 1614.
STONE, JEROME.  The Immortality of Authors: a Poem; and
Translations from the Gaelic.                               N. D.
STRIJTHERS, JOHN. The Plough, and other Poems. 12mo. pp.
112.                                               Glasgow, 1818.
STRUTHERS, JOOHN.  Poems, Moral and Religious. 2 vols. 12mo.
pp. 176 and 189.                                   Glasgow, 1814.
STRUTHERS, JOHN. The IHarp of Caledonia; or, Songs, Ancient
and 3Modern, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, with copious Annota.tions. 3 vols. 12mo. pp. 367, 425, and 456.        Glasgow, 1819.
SYDSERF, SIR TIIOMAS.  Comedies and Tragedies.                   1666.
TAIT, ALEXANDER.  (T'ite 2Tarbolton Poet.)  Poems and Songs.
8vo. pp. 280.                                       Paisley, 179(0.
TANNAIIILL, ROBERT. The Works of, namely, Songs and Poems,
chiefly in the Scottish dialect; and a Play.  With a Life of the
Author and a Memoir of Robert Smith thle musical composer, by
Philip A. Ramsay. 12mo. pp. 258.                    London, 1850..PAYLOR, WILLIAM.  Poems by, mostly in the Scottish dialect.
12mno. pp. 55.                                      Paisley, 1808.
TELFER, JAMES. Border Ballads, and other Miscellaneous' Pieces.
18mno. pp. 163.                                   Jedburgh, 1824.
THOM, WILLIAM. Rhymes and Recollections of a HaI-Ind-loorn Weaver. 12mo. pp. 200.                                 London, 1847.
THIOMAS of ERCILDOUNE. Sir Tristram, a Metrical Romance of the
Th]irteetllh C(e1to?/y, by Thomas of Ercildoune, called the Rhymer.
Edited by Walter Scott, Esquire, Advocate. 8vo. pp. 494.
Edinburgh, -1804.
THOMSON, JA-MES. Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect. 12mo.
pp. 237.                                              Leith, 1819.
THOMSON, JAMES..Ayrshire Melodies, or Select Poetical EffusiOns.
121mo.                                                       1814.
THOMSON, JAMTIES. The Seasons, Britannia, Liberty, Plays, and
Minor Poems. 2 vols. 4to.                           London, 1706.
TRAIN, JOSEPIT. Strains of the Mountain Muse, Funeral of Sir
Archibald the Wicked, &c.                                    1819.
TURNBULL, GAVIN.  (Comedian.)  Poems and Songs, &c. 8vo.
1793.
TYTLER, ALEXANDER.  The Tempest: a Poem.                         1681.
TYTLER, DR. H. W. Art of Nurlsing Children: a Poem  from the
Italian; and Callimachus' Hymns, translated from the Greek. 1806.
URQUIIART, SIR THOMAS. Epigramrs and Inventions.                N. D.




20                 CATALOGUE OF THE
VEDDER, DAVID.  Poems, Legendary, Lyrical, and Descriptive.
12mo. pp. 352.                                   Edinburgh, 1842.
VEDDER, DAVID. The Covenanters' Communion, and otlier Poemns.
12rno. pp. 157.                                 Edinburgih 1828.
VEDDER, DAVID. Arcadian Sketches, Legendary and Lyrical Pieces.
12nmo. pp. 106.                                  Edinbaurgh, 1832.
VILANT, WILLIAMN. Psalms, Hymns, and Spirituial Songs;  and(
Gospel Call in Alfeter.                          Edinbuirgh, 1689.
WALKER, JOHN. Poeins in English, Scotch, and Gaelic, on Variou Subjects. 12mo. pp. 143.                      Glasgoow, 1817.
WALKER, THIOMAS.  (Th]e Poeticael Tai'lor.)  A  Picture of the
World: a Poem.                                              N. D.
WATSON, DAVID. Translation of Horace, and other Poems.
London, 1752.
WATSON, THOMAS. The Rhymer's Family, a Collection of Bantlings.                                   Arbroath, Scotland, 1851.
WEBER, HENRY. Metrical Romances of the 13th,  14th, and 15th
Centuries. Published firom Ancient Manuscripts, with an Introduction, Notes, and a Glossary. 3 vols. 12mo. pp. 466, 479, and
459.                                             EdinburgIh, 1815.
WEDDERBURN, JAMES.  The Complaint of Scotlandc  Gude ancd
Godly, Ballats, Psalms Versefyed.                            1599.
WEDDERBURN, JAMES. Plays, in thie Scottish language.             1540.
WHITEFORD, CALEB. The Hen and the Golden EOgO, and other
Poenms.                                             London, 1782.
W1LKIE, WILLIAM.  The Epigoniad: a Poem, in Nine Books.
12mio. pp. 278.                                     London, 1769.
WILSON. ALEXANDER.  (The Orfn;ithologist.)  Poems, chiefly in
the Scottish  lialect, with an Account of the Life and Writingos of
the Author. 12imo. pp. 256.                         London, 1816.'WILSON, GAVEM. A Collection of Masonic Songs, land Entertaining
Anecdotes for the Use of all the Lodges.                    1788.
WILSON, JOT-IN. Clyde: a Poem; The Day Festival; Earl Dotuilas,
and other Poems. 12mo. pp. 252.                  Edinburgh, 1803.
WILSON, WILLIAM.  (Schzoolmaster,.)  Douglas Water, Ileppintone,
and other Poemns of a Mournful, Religious, and Melancholy east.
About 1S00.
WRTGHT, JOHN.  The Retrospect of Youthful Scenes, witlh other
Poems and Songs. 12mo. pp. 177.                  Edinburgh, 1530).
WYSE, GEORGE.  Original Poems and Songs.  5 vols. 12mo.  pp.
252, 230, and 300.                  Glasgow and Falkirk, 18025- ).
WYNTOWN, ANDREW  OF. De Orygrneal Cronykil of Scotland.
Now first published, with Notes, a G1ossary, &c., by Daxid RIliacpherson. 2 vols. pp. 501 and 523.                   London, 1795,.
YEMAN, ALEXANDER. The Fisherman's TIIt in the Highlands of'
Scotland. and other Poems. 12mo. pp. 152.           London, 180(7.




SCOTTISIH POETS.                           21
COI0LECTIONS, AAND ANONY3IMOUS A UTLOBS.
A BOOK of Scottish Pasquels, &c. Three Parts in one Volume.
Edinburgh, 1827.
A CHOICE Collection of Scotch Poems, Ancient and Modern, selected
chieflv from  the labours of the most ingenious Writers in this
kingdomi during the last two centuries. 12nio. pp. 178.
A COLLECTION of Comic and Serious Scotch Poems, both Ancient
and Modern, by several ]Bards. Three Parts. 121no. pp. 146, 117,
and 120.                                       Edinburghll 1706.
A COLLECTION  of Sca-rce, Curiots, and Valluable Pieces, both in
Verse and Prose, chiefly selected filom the fugitive productions of
the most eminent Wits of the present age. 12m1o. pp. 412.
Edinblurgh, 1784.
A COLLECTION of Ancient and Modern Scottish Ballads, Tales, and
Songs, with explanatory Notes and. Observations. By John Gilcllrist. 2 vols. 121mo.                           London, 1815.
A NEW  BOOK of Old Ballads. 12nlo. pp. 78.    Edinburgh, 1S44.
A PILGRIMAGE to the Land of Burns, containinr Anecdotes of the
Bards and the Characters he immortalized, with numerous Pieces
of Poetry, Original and Collected. 12mo. pp. 260.
Dceptford, 1822.
A PLEASANT HIISTORY of Roswell and Lillian. 4to. pp. 310.
Edinburlgh, 1663.
A TALE of the Three Bonnets, in Four Cantos. 18mo.
Paisley, N. D.
ALLAN, JOHN ((f Ne'  Yorkt). Ayrshire and the Land of Butrns.
This is a unique repository of Newspaper Cuttings. Ballads, Songs,
Biographical Anecdotes, Autograph Letters, Orai-Traditions, Quecr
Jokes, Cards of Invitation, besides portraits of distinguished personages, and a great assemblage of engraved views of noted places
in that renowned part of Scotland. Collected by the diligence of
the present owner, and arranged with great taste and beauty, in one
folio volume.                                 New York, N. D.
ANCIENT SCOTTISH MELODIES, from a Manuscript in the reign
of King Janmes VI., with an Introductory Inquiry Illustrative of the
History of Music in Scotland by William Douney. 4to. pp. 390.
Edinburgh, 1838.
ANCIENT SCOTTISH POEMS, published from  the MS. of George
Bannatyne, 1568. Edited by Lord IHailes. 8vo.   1 ls.
Edinburgh, 1815.
ANCIENT  SCOTTISH  POEMS.  Two-the  Gaberlunzie-nan  and
Christ's Kirk on the Green, with Notes and Observations by John
Callander. Svo. pp. 192.                       Edinburghl, 1772.
ANCIENT  SCOTTIStI BALLADS, recovered from  Tradition, and
never bef'ore published, with Notes, historical and explanatory, and
an Appendix, containing the Airs of several of the Ballads.  8vo.
pp. 270.                                          London, 1827.
AYRSIIRE. The Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, illustrated with
Sketches, Historical, Traditional, Narrative, and Biographical. 2
vols. 8vo. pp. 120 and 122.                   Ayr, 1846 and'47.




22                 CATALOGUE OF THE
CAMPBELL, ALEXANDER.  An Introduction to the History of
Poetry in Scotland from  the beginning of the 13th Century to the
Present Time, together with a Conversation on Scottish Songs. To
whicll are subjoiiled Songs of the Lowlands of Scotland, carefully
comlpared with the originatl editions, and embellished with cliaracteristic designs, composed and engraved by the late lDavid Allan.
2 vols. 4to. pp. 374 and 220. Music and Plates. Edinburgh, 1798.
CHAL~MIERS, ROBERT.  Scottish Songs Collected and Illustrated.  2
vols. 12nmo. pp. 706.                            Edinburgh, 1829.
CHIAMBERS, ROBERT.  Scottish Ballads Collected and Illustrated.
12nio. pp. 399.                                  Edinburgh, 1S29.
COLLECTION of Ancient Scottish Prophecies in Alliterative VXerse
reprinted friom Waldegrave's edition, a.DC.Inr. 4to. pp. 80.
dinbughli, 1883.
CUNNINGH-IAM, ALLAN. The Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern,  with anl Introdunction and Notes Historical and Critical, and
Characters of the Lyric Poets. 4 vols. crown Svo. pP. 352, 352,
352, and 364.                                       London, 1825.
FINLAY, JOHN. Scotch Historical and Romantic Ballads, chiefly ancient, with Explanatory Notes and Glossary. To which is prefixed
Some Remnarks on the Early State of Romantic Composition in
Scotland.  2 vols. 12mo. pp. 214 and 204.        Edinburlgh, 1808.
FRAGMENTS of Ancient Poetry Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and translated from the Gaelic or Erse language. 12no. pp.
200. First edlition qf the Ossianic Poenms.      Edinburgh, 1760.
FRAGMENTA SCOTO. Drarmatica, 1715 a.nd 1758. 12ino.  pp. 48.
Edinbhnlrgh, 1835.
GILCURIST, JOHN. A Collection of Ancient andcl  Modern Scottish
Ballads, Tales, and Songs, with Explanation 5Notes arnd Observations. 2 vols. 12meo. pp. 393 and 380.           Edinburgh, 1815.
H-IERD, DAVID. Ancient and Modern Scottishl Songs, -Iefoic Ballads
&c. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 312 and 382. Edinburgh, 1776. Thiir5
and improved edition. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 360 and l371.
Edinburgh,  1791.
JACOBITE MINSTRELSY, with Notes illustrative of the Text, and
containing Ilistorical Details in relation to the House of Stuart from
1640 to 1784. 1Sino. pp. 378.                       Glassow, 1827.
JAMESON. ROBERT. Popular Ballads and Songs frolm  Tradition,
Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions; with Translations of similar
Pieces from the Ancient Danish language, and a few Orioyinal by the
editor. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 371 and 409.           Edinburgh, 1806.
JOHNSON,  JAIIES. The Scottish Musical MIuseum: consisting of
upwards of Six Hundred Songs, with Proper Basses for the Pianoforte, originally published by James Johnson, and now accompanied
with copious Notes and Illustrations of the Lyric Poetry and Music
of Scotland by the late William  Stenhouse, with Additional Illu strations. 6 vols. Svo.  pp. 320, 226, 223, 270, 249, anid 260.
London, 1839.
LAING, DAVII). Early Metrical Tales, including the I-listory of Sir
Egeir, Sir Gryme, aind Sir Gray Steill.  121no. pp. 310. (175 corpies
printed.)                                        Edinburg h, N. D.
LINTOUN GREEN; or, The Third Market-day of June, 168,: a




SCOTTISII  POETS.                          23
Poem, in Nine Cantos. To which is added Carlop Green; or,
Equality Realized: a Poem, in Three Cantos, written in the year
1793. 12mo. pp. 178.
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. Legends of, and other Ancient Songs,
now first published from AISS. of the Sixteenth Century, with an
Introduction, Notes, and an Appendix. 4to. pp. 174.
London, 1790.
MEMORABLES of the Montgomeries: a Narrative in Rhyme. 4to.
Glasgow, 1770.
MINSTRELSY of the Scottish Border, consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, collected in the counties of Scotland; with a few of
modern date, founded upon Local Tradition.  (By Sir WTalter,cott.) 3 vols. 8vo. pp. 438, 392, and 420.              Kelso.
MORRISON, R.. A  Select Collection of Favourite Scottish Ballads,
with copper plates. 4 vols. 18imo.                  Perth, 1790.
NITIISDALE MINSTREL, being Original Poetry, chiefly of the Bards
of Nithsdale. 12mo. pp. 314.                    Dumfries, 1815.
NORTHERN ANTIQUITIES. Illustrations of, from the Earliest Teutonic and Scandinavian Remains, being an abstract of the Books of
Heroic and Nibelungin Lays, with Translations of Metrical Talesfrom the old German, Dtanish, Scottish, Icelandic languages-with
Notes and Illustrations. 4to. pp. 522.         Edinburgh, 1814.
NORTHERN  MINSTRELSY, being a Select Specimen of Scottish
Songs, with a Glossary, and wood engravings. 12mo. pp. 138. N. D.
PERCY,  THOMAS. (Bishop (f DIronzore.) Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, consisting of old Heroic Ballads, Songs, antd other
Pieces of our earlier Poets, tooether with a few of later date. 3
vols. 12mo. pp. 489, 405, and 410. Engraved ]hecd eand tai pieces.
London, 1775.
PINKERTON, JOHN. Ancient Scottish Poems, never before in print,
but now published from the Manuscript Collections of Sir Richard
Maitland, comprising Pieces written from about 1420 to 1586, with
large Notes and a Glossary. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 326 and 380.
London, 1786.PINKERTON, JOHN. Scottish Ballads, a Collection of. 2 vols. 12nmo.
pp. 225 and 240.                                  London, 1771.
PINKERTON, JOHN. Scottish Poems Reprinted from  Scarce Editions. 3 vols. 12mo. pp. 215, 263, and 246.       London, 1792.
PINKERTON, JOHN. Select Scottish Ballads, containing Ballads in
the Tragic style and Comic kind. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 216 and 240.
London, 1773.
POEMS, consisting chiefly of Odes and Elegies. 12mo. pp. 176.
Glasgow, 1810.
POEMS, written in Leisure Hours. (ABy a Joureleyman  Masomn.) 1mo.
pp. 263.                                        Inverness, 1829.
RITSON, JOSEPH. Scottish Songs. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 408 and 262.
London, 1794.
RI'ISON, JOSEPH. The Caledonian Muse: a Chronological Collection
of Scottish Poetry from the Earliest Times; with vignettes engraved
by Heath after the designs of Stothard. 12mo. pp. 232.
Lonudon, 1821.




24                CATALOGUE, ETC.
ROB STENE'S Dream: a Poem, printed from  a Manuscript in the
Leightonian Library, Dunlblane. 4to. pp. 48.    Glasgow. 1836.
SCOTTISH  ELEGIAC  VERSES.  MID..XXIX.- M.D.C.C.xXIX., with
Notes, and an Appendix of Illustrative Papers. 8vo. pp. 330.
Edinburgh, 1842.
SELECT REMAINS of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, collected by David Laing. 4to. pp. 328. Edinburgh, 1822.
SIBBALD, J.  Chronicles of Scottish Poetry from  the Thirteenth
Century to the Union of the Crowns. To which is added a Glossary. 4 vols. 8vo. pp. 492, 438, 512, and 63.: Edinburgh, 1802.
SHELDON, FREDERIC.  The Minstrelsy of the English Border,
being a Collection of Ballads, Ancient, Remodeled, and Original,
founded on the well-known Border Legends, with Illustrative
Notes. 4to. pp. 432. London, 1847.
THE BATTLE of Flodden Field. 12mo. -Black Letter.
Newcastle, 1822.
THE BALLAD BOOK. (Muassel M'ou'd Charlie.) 12mo. pp. 88.
Ediunburgh, 1827.
THE CALEDONIAN.  A Collection of Poems, written chiefly by.Scottish Authors. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 176 and 236.   London, 1775.
THE HAR'ST RIG and the Farmer's IHa-two Poems in the Scottish
dialect. 12mo. pp. 64.                       Edinburgh, 1801.
THE SONGS of England and Scotland. 2 vols. pp. 351 and 361.
London, 1835.
THOMSON, GEORGE. The Select Melodies of Scotland, interspersed
with those of Ireland and Wales, united to the Songs of Burns, Sir
Walter Scott, and other distinguished Poets, with Symphonies and
Accompaniments for the Pianoforte by Pleyel, Kozeluch, Haydn,
and Beethoven, the whole composed for a Collection by George
Thomson. 6 vols. small folio.                  London, N. D.
THOMSON, WILLIAM. Orpheus Caledonius; or, a Collection of
Scots Songs set to Music. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 114 and 110.
London, 17338.
VARIOUS PIECES of Fugitive Scottish Poetry, principally of the
Seventeenth Century. (Edited by David Laing.)  12mo. pp. about
300.                                        Edinburgh, N. D.
WALLACE. The Lyfe and Actis of the Maist Illuster and Vailzeand
Champion William Wallace, Knicht of Ellerslie, Mainteiner and
Defender of the Libertie of Scotland. 4to.   Edinburgh, 1594.
WEBER, HENRY. The Battle of Flodden Field: a Poem of the Sixteenth Century; with the various  teadings of the different copies,
historical notes, a Glossary, and an Appendix containing Ancient
Poems and Historical Matters relating to the same event. 8vo.
pp. 389. 2 plates.                           Edinburgh, 1808.