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 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 MINSTRELSY OF THE MERSE 
 
 THE 
 
 poct6 anb !poctr\> of Bcvwichsbirc. 
 
 dtl County dElnf^ofo^^. 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. W. S. CROCKETT, F.S. A.Scot. 
 
 
 Rhymer's Tower, E:uiston. 
 
 l'lU:i-ACK liY 
 
 PROFESSOU JOHN STUART BLACKIE. 
 
 J. AND R. PARLANE, PAISLEY. 
 
 JOIIS MENZIES AND CO., EDINBL'RGH AND GLASGOW. 
 HOUI.STON ANn SONS, I.ONDOX. 
 
 1898,
 
 Rev. W. S. Crockett, 
 Author of '"The Scott 
 Country."'
 
 
 0**^. 
 
 «
 
 Ci^iM ^ Ll^tTT S^Ofi^ /AA^M.*^ 4^^/>/»*^ 
 
 rt.^,,^/tv /jXKfy ^ /cv'4^*<^ 
 
 
 \ 
 
 '«*
 
 
 TO 
 
 Till-: MKN AND WOMEN OF THE MERSE, 
 NOT ONi.v IN srori.AM) 
 
 i;ur I\' F.XKKV TAUT Ol' IIIE WOKI.l), 
 wan I1A\ K NKVKIt rORf'.OT THEIR NAT1\ E COUNTY, 
 
 5 De&fcate 
 
 I'OR DEAR MEMORY S SAKE 
 
 THESE SKETCHES 
 
 OK ITS SONC.S AND SINC.ERS. 
 
 918202
 
 It may l)e glorious to write 
 Thoughts that shall glad the two or three 
 High souls, like those far stars tliat come in sight 
 Once in a century ; — 
 
 But l)elter far it is to speak 
 One simple word, wliich now and then 
 Shall waken their free nature in the weak 
 And friendless sons of nien ; 
 
 To write some earnest verse or line. 
 Which, seeking not the praise of art, 
 Shall make a clearer faith and manhood shine 
 In the untutored heart. 
 
 He who doth this, in verse or prose. 
 May be forgotten in his day. 
 But surely shall be crowned at last with those 
 Who live and speak for aye. 
 
 — James Russell Lowell
 
 Df.AR native Meise I a glorious jilain, 
 
 Streakd wi" the sunlieanis, mild and sweet 
 
 I gaze far (I'er tliy fair doinain, 
 
 Where true hearts in their gladness heat ; 
 
 I come to tread tliy llelds again, 
 
 Where long my fathers tiil'd thy soil, 
 And with thee and thy sons remain, 
 
 Till there I end life's ceaseless toil. 
 
 All that I love on earth is tliere, 
 
 Land of my fathers I happy land : 
 Be virtuou- all thy daughters fair, 
 
 And all tliy sons in honour stand I 
 
 May tyrants and their minions flee 
 
 Far from the Merse's bounds away I 
 May truth and genius dwell in thee ! 
 
 Thy toiling sons l)e glad for aye I 
 
 The land of Boston and M'Crie, 
 
 Where Erskine preached and Baillie sung. 
 
 Where, by the Leatler's haughs and lea, 
 The Rhymer's wizard harp was stnmg ! 
 
 There, o'er thy waters, woods, and rills, 
 
 My heart will pour its warmest lay ; 
 While morn aid eve athwart thy hills, 
 
 Shall all their varied charms display. 
 
 No land e'er blessed by sun or shower. 
 
 Beneath the wide skies' azure dome, 
 Will e'er to me look half so fair 
 
 As that which holds my native home ! 
 
 Though bleak and bare thy hills may be, 
 Though winter tempests scathe thy plain, 
 
 O Merse I I could not part with thee, 
 P"or all the gold beyond the main. 
 
 — Dr. George Henderson.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I'KEIACE. .... 
 
 Note hy iiik Ediior, 
 
 iNTROnUCTIOX, 
 
 Thomas of Erciidounk, 
 
 Sir Tristiom, 
 SiK RUIIARI) Maiti.ani), 
 
 The Blind Baion's Comfort, 
 
 Na Kyndnes at Court without Sill 
 
 Gude Counsels, 
 
 BaROX MAITI.AM) OI- TlIlRI.STANE, 
 
 Aganis Sklanderous Toungis, 
 Thomas Maiti.and, 
 Mary Maitland, 
 Eari. ok Lauderdale, 
 Sir Pairick IU'me, 
 Alexander I If me, . 
 
 The Day Estivall, 
 David Hume of Godscroet, 
 James Hume, M.D., 
 Anna Hume, 
 Lady Grisell Baillik, . 
 
 Werena My Heart Licht, 
 
 The Ewe Buchtin's Bonnie, 
 rATKicK Hume, 
 Earl ok Haddincton, 
 Lord Binninc;, 
 
 Ungrateful Nannie, 
 
 In Braise of Emilius, 
 
 RORERT CrAWKORD, 
 
 Leatler Haughs and Narrow, 
 Cowdenknowes, . 
 
 PAOK 
 
 xiii 
 I 
 3 
 9 
 18 
 22 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 29 
 31 
 34 
 35 
 36 
 37 
 38 
 42 
 48 
 
 50 
 
 51 
 
 S3 
 61 
 
 62 
 
 63 
 64 
 66 
 
 67 
 69 
 70 
 
 71 
 
 72
 
 Vlll 
 
 Contents. 
 
 lan 
 
 Jamks GRAiXGr.R, M.l)., . 
 
 Ode to Solitude 
 
 Hiyan and Peieene, 
 Kaii'ii Erskine, 
 Sir John Swinton, 
 Lord Swinion, 
 Mrs. Jmix IIuN'iKR, 
 
 (^ueen Mary's LameiUatinn, 
 
 The Farewell, . 
 
 My Mother bids me Bind my Hair, 
 
 Tlie Death-Song of the Cherokee Indian 
 
 The Lot of Thousands, 
 
 The Spirit's Song, 
 
 The P'lowers of the Forest, . 
 David Stuart Erskine, Earl of Bu 
 Sir David Erskine, 
 James Barrie, 
 William Dfi)(;K(_iN, 
 
 The Maid that tends liic (Jouts, 
 Ke\'. James Gray, . 
 
 A Sabbath among the Mountains, 
 
 Love, . . . 
 
 ^'oulll, .... 
 
 NViLLiA.M Craw, 
 Alexander Brijwx (" lierwicksliire 
 
 My Native Vale, 
 
 The Eagle Trooj), 
 Alexander Hewit, 
 
 William and Madeline, 
 John Robertson, 
 
 The Lassie by the Water Side, 
 Thomas Dickson, 
 
 " Lovest Thou Me ? " . 
 James Sanderson, ... 
 
 My Youthful Haunts on Leadersi 
 
 The Bower by Leaderside, . 
 
 The Banks o' Tweed, . 
 Cattain John Marjorh.anks, 
 
 Liberty, .... 
 
 Sandie "), 
 
 e, 
 
 74 
 76 
 
 79 
 82 
 
 83 
 84 
 85 
 87 
 88 
 88 
 
 89 
 89 
 90 
 90 
 91 
 95 
 97 
 99 
 
 lOI 
 
 102 
 104 
 
 105 
 106 
 107 
 no 
 III 
 
 112 
 114 
 
 117 
 117 
 
 119 
 119 
 121 
 
 124 
 126 
 127 
 128 
 129
 
 Contents. 
 
 G 
 
 John Win ikhkai), . 
 Sonnet, 
 The Miser's Heart is set on 
 
 ROBKRT MkNNON, 
 
 Chirnsido, 
 
 The Lily ..' tlie Valley, 
 
 Juke nn' let the Jaw gae )))■ 
 
 WlI.I.IAM St'lllKKI AM), . 
 
 The Enthusiast Lover, 
 Dr. Georck Henderson, 
 
 Crunkly's Braes, . 
 
 \ Fancy Flight to Leidei W 
 
 The Return Home, 
 WlI.I.IAM Air Foster, 
 
 O ! List the INIavis' Mellow 
 
 Gucle Coldstream Toon, 
 
 The Trystin' Tree, 
 
 On the Ettrick Shepherd 1 
 Competition of the Bord 
 
 John Wilson, D.D., 
 Alexander Ho.mk, . 
 
 A Week in the Couiitr), 
 Andrew Steele, 
 
 My Native Border Hume, 
 
 The Hirsel yet for Me, 
 
 Hey for a Wife \vi' a Hunner 
 WlI.I.lA.M Brockie, . 
 
 Lawther East Mains, . 
 
 \'e'll never gang back t(j yer 
 Lady Hume Campbell, . 
 
 When Thou art near Me, 
 Thomas Knox, 
 
 Undying Work, . 
 
 Earth an Eden-Bower, 
 
 The Tree and the Storm, 
 Rev, Andrew Cunninc.iiam, 
 
 Knox, 
 
 Luther, 
 
 ater, 
 
 Note, 
 
 -•aring off the I'ri/e 
 er Bowmen in 1832, 
 
 ,1(1, 
 
 at tile 
 
 )r -1 
 
 Mith- 
 
 wa, 
 
 mair 
 
 IX 
 
 l-AOK 
 •31 
 
 132 
 
 134 
 135 
 136 
 
 137 
 
 137 
 
 139 
 140 
 142 
 
 149 
 150 
 
 153 
 
 160 
 162 
 
 163 
 167 
 171 
 172 
 172 
 
 176 
 
 177 
 178 
 
 179 
 
 180
 
 X 
 
 Content:^. 
 
 John GiKso.N, .... 
 
 Take Life as vvc tind it, 
 Wi 1. 1.1 AM Forsyth, 
 
 A Lay of Loch Leven, 
 The Cottage Ijy the (Quarry, 
 Peter M'Craket, . 
 
 The Lamniernioor Hills, 
 Thomas Watis, 
 
 The Friend of Bygi me Days, 
 Winter Evenings, 
 Oor Wee ^^'ean, . . 
 Walter Chishoi.m, . 
 
 Scotia's Border Land, . 
 Oor Only Bairnie, 
 " It Micht be Miickle Waur,^' 
 The Missed Tryst, 
 Margaret IL\y Home Touch, 
 Mary Anxe Lorimer, 
 The Family Gathering, 
 My Longings 
 John Usher, .... 
 
 Lanniiermoor. 
 George Gh.mour, 
 
 The Sabl)alh, 
 La I A- John Scott, . 
 Annie Laurie, 
 Lamniernioor, 
 Duris-])eer, 
 Kalherine Logic, . 
 The Foul Fords, . 
 Ettrick, .... 
 
 Geok(;e 1'aui.in, 
 
 The Tweed Re\ isited, . 
 Baby Song, .... 
 It's No Worth the War.-,llc lor'l, 
 .Soun' Sleepin' Noo, 
 Aunty' .s Sangs, 
 Retro.spcct, . 
 
 I'AOE 
 
 i8i 
 i8i 
 
 1S3 
 184 
 186 
 
 187 
 188 
 
 190 
 191 
 
 193 
 194 
 
 198 
 200 
 201 
 202 
 204 
 205 
 205 
 205 
 206 
 
 2C8 
 
 208 
 
 209 
 209 
 
 211 
 213 
 
 214 
 
 216 
 216 
 2l8 
 221 
 222 
 223 
 223 
 224 
 225
 
 Contents. 
 
 XI 
 
 Kk\'. James Bai.i.ani vm:, 
 The Dying Iiifulcl, 
 
 A.NURKW WaM.KSS, . 
 
 Our Mitlier Tongue, 
 The Scott Centenary, 
 A Scotch Sangster's C\)niin', 
 The Men o' the Merse, 
 Lamniernioor, 
 Jkssie Want.kss Bkack, . 
 
 Among the Leaves so (liecn, 
 
 CHRISTOI'IIKR Uawso.n, 
 
 To the Tweed at Coklslreani 
 
 The Rose, . 
 William Telkokd, . 
 
 Scotia's Heather, . 
 Thomas Miller, 
 
 My Heart aye Warms to the Tail 
 Thomas Hai'ticr, 
 
 The Parting, 
 
 Christian Charity, . 
 Robert M'Lean Calder, 
 
 When the Days are Creenin" 
 
 Polart Burn, 
 . The Auld Schule Hoose on tlie G 
 Robert Bringle, 
 
 The Virtue Well, . 
 Ji:an.\'ie Dodds, 
 
 A Mother's Test, 
 
 Friendship, . 
 Georc.e Deans, 
 
 Hume Castle, 
 
 Darlinglield, 
 
 Birgham Bowers, . 
 AiiNEs Mack Demiolm, . 
 
 A Legend of Lamniermoor, 
 
 ,\fter Many \'ears, 
 Ki'.v. Charles Miller, . 
 
 Duns Law, 
 
 reen. 
 
 I'AOK 
 
 226 
 226 
 228 
 230 
 232 
 234 
 235 
 236 
 
 237 
 238 
 
 239 
 242 
 244 
 
 245 
 247 
 
 248 
 
 248 
 
 250 
 
 251 
 
 252 
 
 254 
 256 
 
 257 
 258 
 261 
 261 
 263 
 263 
 264 
 265 
 266 
 267 
 268 
 270 
 270 
 272 
 
 27s 
 276
 
 Xll 
 
 CoNTE.\-rs. 
 
 Charles Philii' Gibson, 
 
 Cheerfulness, 
 Kkv. RoiiERT Naismith, . 
 
 The Martyr's Grave, 
 E. V. O. K., . 
 
 The Herring Dravc, 
 
 Low Slimmer Wind, 
 Rev. Peter Mearns, 
 
 Scripture Study, . 
 John Reid, 
 
 The Lass o' Kidshiel Clen, 
 Annie Burton Easton, . 
 
 " Dinna Forget Me," . 
 >riSCEI,I.ANEOU.S, 
 
 The Bai.i.ads of Berwickshire— 
 
 The Broom o' the Cowdenknowc- 
 
 Tea- Table Miscellany A'ersion, 
 
 Gilfillan's Version, 
 
 Bell's Version, 
 
 Auld Maitland, . 
 
 Leader I laughs and Varruw , 
 
 The Grey Peel Glen, . 
 
 The Ballad of the Twinlaw Cairns 
 
 Polvvarth on the Green, 
 
 Grieve's Version, . 
 
 Tibby Fowler, 
 
 Thomas the Rhymer, . 
 
 Additional Note to Thomas of Ercildoune, 
 
 " Delta's " " Tower of Ercildoune," 
 
 Note on Berwickshire Ballads 
 
 ADDENDA 
 Peter Coi.dwei.i,, 
 
 Cuddy Pegg>', 
 Mary In(;lis, . 
 
 The Auld Manse, 
 
 Von Burnside, 
 
 Last Longings, 
 
 Let the Bairnies Play, 
 Lm)Ex ok Names, 
 
 279 
 2S0 
 282 
 283 
 285 
 285 
 286 
 287 
 287 
 288 
 288 
 290 
 290 
 292 
 
 295 
 299 
 301 
 302 
 
 303 
 
 317 
 320 
 
 324 
 325 
 326 
 327 
 
 332 
 
 334 
 
 T -> r 
 
 oj7 
 339 
 339 
 341 
 342 
 343 
 344
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ' I ^HE name of Burns occupies such a prominent 
 ■*- position in Scottish song that persons are apt 
 to speak of him as the creator of the lyrical art of his 
 country, which owes all its merit to the stamp placed 
 upon it by his powerful genius. Nothing could be 
 a greater mistake. Burns was not the creator of the 
 lyrical genius of his country, but only its highest 
 representative. He was the biggest tree in the 
 forest, but not the only big tree ; he was not the 
 forest, and did not make the forest ; the forest rather 
 made him, as growing out of the same soil, breathing 
 the same atmosphere, and reared in the same en\-iron- 
 ment. The most common Scottish song-book is 
 studded over with songs of first-rate excellence 
 which derive no inspiration from Burns, and which 
 Burns, with the loftiest flight of his genius, could not 
 have surpassed. Equally unfair wcnild it be to say 
 that the lyric poetry of Scotland belonged specially, 
 as her religious struggles did, to the West Country. 
 No doubt Hew Ainslie and Tannahill stand before 
 the public as closely associated with Lugar Water
 
 xiv Preface. 
 
 and the Banks of Doon as Robert Burns himself; 
 but there were famous Scottish song-writers from the 
 earliest times who were as far removed from the land 
 of Burns as the east is from the west, and to whom 
 the sharp air from the German Ocean was no less 
 pro\ocative of sweet song than the soft breezes from 
 the Western Channel. With one of the most popular 
 branches of Scottish song, the Jacobite ballads, the 
 genius of Burns had nothing to do ; and on the 
 eastern side of the country sloping down towards the 
 sea, the names of Lady Nairne, Sir Walter Scott, 
 and James Hogg arc a prolonged echo of a native 
 school of Scottish song, flowing from its own source 
 as distinctly as the Tweed flows diverse from the 
 Clyde. In the poetry of this eastern side of the 
 country nothing is more notable than a certain 
 aristocratic character which belonLTcd to it, as con- 
 trastcd with the strongly-marked peasant features of 
 the poetry of the west. Not a few of the leading 
 nobility of Scotland, in the times immediately 
 following the Keformation, are honourably named 
 among the [)(j[)ular singers of an eminently singing 
 age ; pity only that, like George Buchanan, li\ing at 
 a time when the Latin tongue was the only organ of 
 polite culture, they gave their Scottish sentiments 
 voice in a language which is now dead. Of their
 
 Preface. w 
 
 honourable place, however, and of that of their un- 
 titled compeers on the banks of the Leader and the 
 Tweed, an instructive memorial lies now before me 
 in the work of the Rev. W. S. Crockett — a work 
 which worthil}' fills a felt blank in the history of 
 Scottish song, and which will be perused with no less 
 pleasure than profit by all who know that in the 
 general eye of Europe Scotland holds a proud 
 place, no less by her wealth of popular song than 
 by her thoughtful seriousness, her practical good 
 sense, and her power of persistent work. This is a 
 national characteristic, the growth of centuries, of 
 which we have great reason to be thankful and to be 
 proud ; and w hen Scotsmen forget to cherish this 
 thankfulness and this pride, Histor)' will not be slow 
 to forget them. 
 
 JOHN STUART BLACKIK.
 
 NOTE BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 The Editor begs to acknowledge, ivith heartiest thanks, 
 the help he has received front Professor Blackie in 
 kindly zvridng the Preface to this volume; and 
 from his friend Mr. J. Cnthbert HaddcJi, who has 
 most generously read the proofs of the ivork while 
 going through the press. 
 
 To many others who have i^iven i/inch valnable 
 information thanks is also justly dne, and more 
 particnlarly to the Keepers of the various libraries 
 in Edinburgh and Glasgoiv, through wJiose never- 
 failing courtesy he has luen largely aided in his 
 zvork of research. 
 
 To himself it has been a labour of love, and his 
 hope is that it may prove a useful and instructive 
 record of Berwickshire song and ballad to all ivJio 
 are interested in such literature. 
 
 IV. S. C. 
 
 Earlsfon, August, iSgj.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 SCOTTISH song is the world's admiration. Per- 
 haps no other country has been more proHfic in 
 song and ballad. Every county has its band of 
 singers who are helping to swell the great chorus 
 of national sentiment, and to keep alive with ever- 
 increasing enthusiasm the grand old traditions and 
 hallowed memories that cluster round the fair name 
 of Scotia. 
 
 Every district in the land has contributed to this 
 rich heritage of song. The Highlands with the 
 weird, wild music of the clansmen, the songs of 
 Ossian — great Minstrel of the North — the stirring 
 strains of the Rebellion, and the pathetic plaints of 
 Hope become forlorn, are all full of strong Celtic fire 
 in preserving unimpaired the scenes and incidents of 
 most notable times in our national annals. The 
 Lowlands inspire us with their matchless minstrelsy 
 in song and ballad, collected and pieced together by 
 skilful and loving hands, from among the hills and 
 glens of the romantic Borderland. They tell a 
 thousand tales of old-world life, of battle-blade and
 
 4 IxTRODUCriON. 
 
 warrior wight, of death and glory, dool and pain. 
 Central Scotland, too, is pleasingly rich in pastoral 
 poetry. From its fair straths and glorious wood- 
 lands have come, full of sweetest symphony, the glad, 
 joyous notes of love and }'outh, of friendship and 
 freedom, of delight in homely country ways, and 
 pleasure in quiet country scenes. 
 
 The whole land has thus been helping to create 
 and mould the nation's song. We are essentially a 
 singing people, proud of our nationality, proud of our 
 country, and no less proud of our achievements in 
 the divine art of poesy. If to the West of Scotland 
 — to Ayrshire — we turn to find the great master of 
 Scottish song, it is in Berwickshire, to the East, we 
 find the. father of our national poetry. The first notes 
 of national song mingled with the music of the 
 Leader. Its true birthplace is among the hills and 
 glens of Lauderdale. Thomas of Ercildoune is the 
 " day-starre of Scottish poetry." He is our earliest 
 minstrel, the first of that bright band who have 
 carried into all the world the sweet cadence of 
 Scottish song. 
 
 Situated so near the Scottish Border, in a land 
 
 laden with legendary lore — the very home of romance 
 — where are castled crag and ruined tower, river and 
 streamlet, forest, field, and moor, each with its own
 
 Introduction. 5 
 
 peculiar association and special bcaut\-, it is no 
 wonder that the Merse has so many singing children. 
 
 Three things combine to make Berwickshire a 
 nursery of song. Nature has formed it one of the 
 loveliest of Scottish counties. To wander by the 
 sloping wood-clad banks of the Tweed and Leader, 
 or by the fertile haughs of the Blackadder and Whit- 
 adder, is the very essence of life. To climb the 
 Lammermoors, purpled with autumnal heather, and 
 to drink in from every side the fresh breezes as they 
 blow all around you is the finest of health-invigorators. 
 " Let me see the heather once a year," said Scott, 
 and see it, I pray }'ou, good reader, in the charming 
 uplands of the Merse. May its fields fascinate you 
 with their rich \-erdurc, its broomy braes, its ferny 
 dells, and its wimpling burns — all it has so lavishly 
 received from Nature — delight vour heart and mind 
 and soul ! 
 
 Histor}', too, has left its mark upon the Merse. 
 There are memories on every hand of past days and 
 deeds. The struggle for independence and the 
 conquests of Wallace are not confined to the West. 
 The Stuarts were fond of the county. The " Sair 
 Sanct" founded sc\eral of its churches and its finest 
 abbey. There are hallowed associations around 
 Duns Law, and sweet memories of Covenanting
 
 6 lyrRODVCTiox. 
 
 heroism by the winding Whitadder. Its frowning 
 " keeps," moss-grown now and grey with the 
 gathering years, speak of stern defiance and of many 
 a doughty deed of arms in the rough days of yore. 
 We can almost see them yet — these stout-souled 
 warriors of an age long gone — fearless and true, as 
 they strike for sweet liberty in every blow. 
 
 There is also the influence of the supernatural. 
 The mystery of the seer of Ercildoune has bound the 
 land in awe. The realm of Faery is strangely near. 
 Each hill and glen has some story of association 
 with this interesting locality and its still more 
 interesting inhabitants. 
 
 A further influence is the bright, genial disposition 
 of Merse men and women. They are ideal Scots. 
 They love their fatherland with a great love. They 
 are most loyal to its highest interests, and never fail 
 to seek its supremest good. Beautiful in character, 
 they arc no less beautiful in body — strong \\\ pJiysiquc, 
 comely in countenance, true sons and daughters of 
 the old Border blood. All combined, the effect of 
 Nature, History, and the Unseen has been to set 
 some minds thinking and some voices singing with 
 the rapture these evoked. For our Merse lads and 
 lassies are in no way dull to such influences. Ever a 
 religious people, they rise from Nature to Nature's
 
 J.\TRODUCTJON. 7 
 
 God, and recognise the Hand Divine weaving each 
 thread into the great warp of history, until all Life's 
 varied movements become clearly understood in the 
 light of that all-perfect plan which the truer Unseen 
 shall at length reveal. 
 
 Sing on, then, ye singers of the Merse ! Re- 
 member those who have sung before you, whose 
 voice is hushed, but whose song still lingers in the 
 vale ; catch up their spirit, emulate their example, 
 na\', if you ma}-, rise to even higher achievements, 
 like him whose boyhood years were passed on the 
 very threshold of }'our land, whose eyes feasted on 
 its scener}', whose mind was stored with its old 
 traditions, and whose dust is handed over to }'our 
 keeping b}^ the " fair river " in }'our own beloved 
 Dry burgh.
 
 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 THOMAS OF ERCILDOUNE. 
 
 I2i6(?) — 1294(?). 
 
 THE story of Thomas of Ercildoune, popularly 
 known as Thomas the Rhymer, is shrouded in 
 much obscurity. The history of this remarkable 
 man borders so closely on the mythical and traditional, 
 that there is threat difficult}' in determining what in 
 it is rcall}' authentic. He has now become little 
 more than a dim, almost unrecognisable figure of the 
 past. I'he enlightenment and learning of modern 
 da}-s have stripped him of that superstitious venera- 
 tion and almost religious reverence which our too 
 credulous forefathers were ever eager to accord to 
 their gifted contemporaries. The ignorance of the 
 period in which he lived, the easy, unquestioning 
 credence of succeeding generations, and a readiness 
 to regard as fulfilled predictions the many recurring 
 changes in national life, have been the chief agents 
 in preserving to this day with such freshness and 
 vigour the reputation of Thomas of Ercildoune.
 
 lO 
 
 AI/XSTKELSV OP THE MeRSE. 
 
 For in the popular mind he is more the prophet than 
 the poet, and is better remembered for his alleged 
 powers of vaticination and mystic intercourse with 
 the Faery realms, than for any of the metrical 
 romances that have been attributed to his genius. 
 Thousands who have never heard of Sir Ttistreju} 
 or of the Auchinleck MS.,^ are perfectly familiar with, 
 and cling with strongest attachment to those rhyming 
 couplets of prophetic import which generation after 
 generation has ascribed to the weird sage of Ercil- 
 doune. 
 
 Thomas of Ercildoune derived his territorial desig- 
 nation from the ancient village of that name in the 
 south-west of l^erwickshire. This place appears to 
 have been of considerable importance during the 
 earlier years of Scottish history. It was frequently 
 a royal residence. During a visit in June, 1136, 
 David I. subscribed there the foundation charter of 
 Melrose Abbey, and in 1 143 his son. Prince Henr}', 
 subscribed, also " at ICrchcldu," the confirmatory- 
 charter of the same abbey. Among the local barons 
 
 ^ This now famous romance was discovered in the Advocates' 
 Lil^rary, lldinburgli, by Ritson, the well-known antiquary, and is 
 part of a vclUun MS. volume i)resentetl to the library in 1744 by a 
 judge of the Court of Session, Alexander Boswell of Auchinleck, 
 father of Dr. Johnson's biographer, and thence called the Auchinleck 
 M.S. It contains in 334 leaves upwards of forty poems and fragments, 
 a full account of which is given by Scott as an apjiendi.v to the intro- 
 duction to his Sir 'rrislrein. 'Die volume has been much mutilated 
 from the cutting out of the illuminated initials, and the concluding 
 stanzas of Sir 'J'ristrei/i are lost, but have been supplied in the published 
 copy by .Sc(;U, after a French romance of the .same name, with which 
 it in certain measure corresjionds.
 
 Thomas of Ercildou.xi:. ii 
 
 the famiU' of Lindsay held at first the chief position. 
 "William dc Lindsci dc lu-cildun '" Ljrantcd to the 
 monks of Coldin<Tham the church at Ercildounc with 
 one plouL;hgate of land. The ecclesiastical docu- 
 ments of this period arc nearly all associated w ith 
 this faniilw Then the Karls of March and Dunbar 
 come upon the scene, and remain for some time the 
 real owners and lords of Ercildounc. Jkit they in 
 turn pass away, and so now, of the very extensive 
 territory in Lauderdale and the Merse formerly 
 belonging to this old Border house, not a single acre 
 is held by an immediate' representative of the 
 famih'. \\\ the village of Ercildounc, at the east 
 end, they had a stronghold, for long known as the 
 Earl's Tower, but now demolished, and a group of 
 buildings close at hand, probably remnants of feudal 
 residences, was called the Earl's Toun. From this 
 circumstance the original name of Ercildounc or 
 Erchcldun ^ gradually blended into the growing 
 Earl's Toun, which modern usage has transformed into 
 one word— Earlston. The residence of Thomas the 
 Rhymer stood at the west end, close by the Leader, 
 and distant about half a mile from the Earl's Tower. 
 While the latter has long since given place to the 
 plough, only a green knoll now marking the site of 
 
 ^ In old records, etc., the name has the following forms : — Erceldun, 
 Ercildounc, Ercheldoun, Ercildon, Ersylton, Hersilton, Hersildoune, 
 Erslington, Arseldon, Earthelton, Ersyldowne. Tlic modern form is 
 also rendered Earlslown and Earlstoun, and tlie latter is more correct 
 than Earlston. Ercildoune is ilerived from the Caml)ro-British Arciol- 
 diin, that is, the " look-out " or " prospect " hill - the hill to the south 
 which gives an extensive view nf ilie Leader and Tweed valleys.
 
 12 MlNSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 the great retainer's " keep," the visitor may still 
 stand by the ivy-clad ruins of the Rhymer's dwelling, 
 feeling that here indeed is one of Scotland's sacred 
 places, the habitation of her earliest poet, the nurser}' 
 of her world -ad mi red song. "While I was yet 
 ignorant," writes David Macbeth Moir ("Delta"), the 
 poet, " that an)' part of the ruins were in existence, 
 they were pointed out to me, and, I need not add, 
 awakened a thousand stirring associations connected 
 with the legends, the superstitions, and the history 
 of mediaeval ages, when nature brought forth ' Gorgons 
 and hydras and chimeras dire,' and social life seemed 
 entirely devoted to ' Ladye love and war, renown 
 and knightly worth.'" 
 
 The period at which Thomas of Ercildoune 
 flourished is generally given as the greater part of 
 the thirteenth century — from about 1216 to at least 
 1285. Henry the Minstrel introduces him into an 
 incident in the career of Wallace in 1296 ; Pinkcrton 
 supposes him to have been alive in 1300; while 
 Patrick Gordon, in his heroic poem TJic Bnicc, places 
 his death in the year 1307. In 1294 — not 1299 as 
 usually stated — we find his son conveying to the 
 Trinity House of Soltre the lands which he possessed 
 " by inheritance" at Ercildoune. The actual words 
 of the accompanying charter are : " Thomas of Ercil- 
 doune, son and heir of Thomas Rimour of Ercil- 
 doune," from which it is evident that the elder 
 Thomas must cither have been dead b}' this time, or 
 have retired from the more active duties of life in 
 favour of his son, at whose disposal he had placed
 
 7'j/o.u.is OF Ekcildouxk. 13 
 
 • 
 
 the fainil\- property. The former is the more 
 
 plausible conjecture, since Thomas of Ercildounc, 
 
 the Rhymer, according to Scott's calculations, must 
 
 have then been a man considerably advanced in 
 
 years. His death may have occurred in the religious 
 
 house near A}'r to which he frequently resorted.^ 
 
 One tradition has it that he met his death through 
 
 treacher)^ when negotiating with a neighbouring 
 
 baron, and the i)0[)ular story of his translation to 
 
 fairyland is too well known to be repeated here, 
 
 whilst also, of course, too absurd to be believed. 
 
 With reference to his alleged surname of Learmont 
 
 there is no satisfactory evidence. Persons of the name 
 
 of Learmont living in Earlston did claim kinship 
 
 with the Rhymer, and down to a late period the right 
 
 also of burial immediately in front of the parish 
 
 church, in the wall of which is a very ancient stone 
 
 with the inscription : 
 
 " Auld Rymr race 
 Lyees in this place' 
 
 The late Mr. Campbell Swinton supposes that 
 Thomas's territorial appellation as proprietor of a 
 mount or hill at luxildoune may have grown into 
 Laird of Ercilmount, and have thence been corrupted 
 into Lairsilmount or Lairmont, but how far this some- 
 what ingenious theory is tenable cannot be said. 
 
 ' The Faile or Foale, a priory of the Chiniacenses which was still 
 nourishing in the sixteenth century. Henry the Minstrel say; : — 
 
 " Thomas Kimour into the Faile was then. 
 With the niynystir, quhilk was a worthi man, 
 He usyt ofi't to that religiouss place,"
 
 14 M/XSTKELSV 01' THE MeRSE. 
 
 One thing is worthy of note. The biographers of 
 Russia's great poet, Michael Lermontof (i8[ 1-1841), 
 refer to his ancestral connection with and descent 
 from Thomas of Ercildoune. In many of his 
 poems Lermontof himself proudly alludes to his 
 Scottish lineage : 
 
 " Beneath the curtain of mist, 
 Beneath a heaven of storms, 
 Among the hills of my Scotland 
 Lies the grave of Ossian ; 
 Thither flies my weary soiil, 
 To breathe its native gale, 
 And from that forgotten grave 
 A second time to draw iis life." 
 
 And in another poem called Tlie WisJi he longs to 
 have the wings of the bird that he might fly " to the 
 west, to the west, where shine the fields of ni}- 
 ancestors, and where, in the deserted tower among 
 the misty hills, rests their forgotten dust." Abov^e 
 the sword and shield han^-ing on the ancient walls 
 he would fly, and with his wing flick off the gathered 
 dust of ages. 
 
 Into the question of Thomas the Rh}'mer's poetical 
 powers I shall not meantime go far. The chief poem 
 of which he is the reputed author is the romance of 
 Sir Tristrcin. The tale is not original by any 
 means, but, as the Welsh authorities state, is founded 
 on very ancient though quite authentic history. It 
 had appeared on the Continent before it reached the 
 form in which it now stands. Throughout it is 
 written in a very difficult and complicated stanza, 
 and in language which, although English, is almost 
 
 I
 
 Thomas of Ercildoune. 15 
 
 unintclliL^iblc to an ordinary reader of to-day. The 
 construction is jerky and concise, so much so as to 
 be in some places obscure, and the poem occasionally 
 sinks into a wearying minuteness of unnecessary 
 detail, though it rises again into vigorous and 
 animated verse. There is evidence both for and 
 against its being written by Thomas. Sir Walter 
 Scott, in his elaborate introduction to the poem, 
 confidentl}' attributes the authorship to the Rhymer. 
 Robert of Brunne regrets that " in recited tales of 
 Ercildoune and Kendale no one repeats them as tJiey 
 made them." He ranks Sii" Tristrein in the foremost 
 place, if men would only repeat it " as Thomas made 
 it." But in the poem itself there is much mystification. 
 The opening stanza, for example, runs thus : 
 
 " I was at Ertheldoune ; 
 Witli tomas spak I there, 
 There lierd I rede in roiin ' 
 Who tristem gat and bare ; 
 Who was king with croun ; 
 And who him forsterd yare ; 
 And who was bold l)aroun, 
 As their ehlers were ; 
 
 By 'yere ; 
 Tomas tells in toun 
 This aventours - as thai ware." 
 
 Other passages contain similar reference to a Thomas, 
 " as tomas us hath taught," etc., and so far as this 
 goes the evidence from the poem itself is against the 
 Rhymer's authorship. It has been suggested that 
 he might have woven his name into the verses for 
 
 ' Told ill tale. - Ailventiires,
 
 1 6 AfjXSTKELSV OF THE Merse. 
 
 the purpose of perpetuating hi.s fame, but we can 
 hardly imagine him speaking of himself in such a 
 wa\\ Most critics are adverse to the Rhymer's first- 
 hand connection with the romance, and Warton, 
 Wright, Halliwell, Paris, Murray, and Kolbing agree 
 in thinking that when the unknown translator from 
 the French original found a Thomas mentioned he 
 at once gave the place of honour to Thomas of 
 Ercildoune, whose reputation as a seer would be 
 somewhat extensive at the time. It may be, how- 
 ever, that this Scottish version of Sir Tristrcni was 
 written by some one who received it immediately 
 from Thomas, who we might expect had no small 
 acquaintance with continental and ancient British 
 traditionary literature. Other poems are said to 
 have been written by him, but in nearly every case 
 the evidence is quite as puzzling and contradictory 
 as that in regard to Sir Tristrcni. 
 
 And what as to his prophetic fame ? There is no 
 evidence to show that he himself assumed the char- 
 acter of a prophet, but it is certain that in a very 
 few years after his death he had come to be looked 
 upon as one possessing in no slight degree a spirit 
 of divination. Barbour, who wrote about 1375, 
 refers to a reputed prophecy of Thomas concerning 
 the exploits and succession of Robert I. After 
 Ikuce had slain Comyn at Dumfries in 1306, Bishop 
 Lamberton is introduced as saying : 
 
 " I hop Tliomas's prophecy 
 Of Ilersildoune sail verified be 
 In liim."
 
 Thomas of Ercjldocxe. 17 
 
 Bower, who wrote in 1449, has gi\cn a circumstantial 
 account of the celebrated prediction of the Rhymer 
 relative to the death of Alexander III. ; and Henry 
 the Minstrel makes him utter an avenging word over 
 the apparently lifeless body of Wallace. He is 
 affirmed to have foretold the Union of Scotland and 
 England by one removed in the ninth degree from 
 the Bruce's blood, and there are not wanting many 
 instances, still in popular belief, in which his prophetic 
 genius has cast a weirdsome spell over many of the 
 places and families of the Scottish Border-land.^ 
 
 Beyond mere traditional reputation, however, there 
 is not the remotest evidence to justify the ascription 
 of any prophetic power to the Rh}'mer of Ercildoune, 
 and as to the rational probability of the thing no 
 argument is necessary. " The reverence of the 
 people for a man, extraordinary for his learning and 
 venerable for his years, seems to have been the sole 
 foundation of Thomas's claims to rank among the 
 prophets. The allegories of the poet were converted, 
 as events chanced to suit, into prophecies of which 
 he never dreamed ; and the attributes of a seer being 
 thus once fixed upon him, it is not surprising that in 
 an age when all history was of a poetic structure, his 
 name and authority should often have been fictitiously 
 
 ^ In addition to the above the following old Scottish and English 
 writers refer to Thomas as a prophet-ljard : — Robert Mannyng of 
 Brunne, contemporary with Thomas (1303) ; Sir Thomas Gray, Con- 
 stable of Norham, 1355; Andro of Wyntoun, 1424; Hector Boece, 
 1465; John Mair or Major, 1430; John Bellenden, 1490 ; John Leland, 
 1543; Archbishop Spottiswood, 1565; Nisbet the Ilcraldist, and 
 many others. See additional note at end of book.
 
 1 8 M/.YSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 employed to throw into the commencement of historic 
 narratives those shadows of coming events, of which 
 poetry has made such frequent and happy use, to 
 heighten the curiosity with which we pursue their 
 development." 
 
 From Sir Trisfreni. 
 The Co>rBAT of Trisi rem with URfiAN, a formidable Giant. 
 
 (Sir Trislieiii, l)aiiisliefl from Corinvall, enters the .ser\ice ol Triamoui-, Kidl;' of 
 Wales. This luonarcli is unjustly attacked by Urg'an, a neighbouring prince, who 
 besieffes him in liis capital and lays waste his country. Trianiour promises 
 Tristreni a part of his Welsh dominions if lie can reco\ er them from the enem\ . 
 Tristrem and Urgan join liattle, and at k-nj^th meet in single combat. Urgan, 
 a knight of gigantic stature, upbraids Tristrem with the death of his brother 
 Morgan, slain by him "at the west." Thej' fight desperately. Tristrem cuts off 
 Urgan'9 right hand ; but the giant continues the encounter with his left. Urgan, 
 being hard pressed, flies to his castle. Sir Tristrem seizes and rides off with the 
 bloody hand. I'rgan, returning with potent salves to re-unite his hand to the 
 stimi)), finds that Tristrem has carried it aw.ay. The giant pursues Tristrem and 
 overtakes him upon a bridge, where the battle is renewed in presence of a multi- 
 tude of spectators. Urgan presses Tristrem hard and clea\es his shield, but 
 Tristrem, avoiding his next blow, thrusts him through the body, and in the 
 agony of death he springs over the bridgf.l 
 
 I. 
 
 In Wales tho was a king, 
 
 That highl ^ Triamour ; 
 Me ha<lde a doughler ying, 
 
 Was hoten ' Blaunche Flour ; 
 Urgan with gret wering, 
 
 Biseged him in his tour, 
 To winne that swete thing, 
 
 And Ijring hir to his hour, 
 With fight ; 
 
 Tristrem with gret honour, 
 liicom the Kinges knight. 
 
 ' Named.
 
 Thomas of Ercildoune. 19 
 
 II. 
 
 Uigan gan Wales held, 
 
 With wrong, for sothe to say ; 
 Oft and unselde,' 
 
 Of Triamour tok he prey : 
 Trianiour to Tristrem teld, 
 
 Opon a somers day, 
 Wales he wald him yeld, 
 
 \'\{ lie it winne may, 
 Right than ; 
 
 Tristrem with niiten nay, 
 Willi were, Wales wan. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tristrem mett Urgan, 
 
 In that feld to fight ; 
 To him seyd he than, 
 
 As a douhti knight, 
 — " Thou slough mi brother Morgan, 
 
 At the mete ful right ; 
 As Y am douhti man, 
 
 Ilis delh thou hist to-night. 
 Mi fo ; "— 
 
 Tristrem seyd aplight, 
 *• So hope V the to slo," 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tuelue fete was the wand, 
 
 That Urgan wald with play ; 
 His strok may no man stand, 
 
 Ferly yif Tristrem may ; 
 Tristrem vantage fand. 
 
 His clobbe fel oway ; 
 And of the geauntes -' hand, 
 
 Tristrem smot, that day, 
 In lede : 
 
 Tristrem, for sothe to say. 
 The geaimt gert he blede. 
 
 \ Not selcloni, - Giant's..
 
 20 MiXSTKELSV OF 'II IE MeRSE. 
 
 V. 
 
 Urgan al in tene,' 
 
 Faiight with liis left hnn<l : 
 Oghain Tristrem kene, 
 
 A stern stroke he fanti, 
 Opon his hehne so schene, 
 
 That to the grounde he w ami, 
 Bot up he stirt bidene,- 
 
 And he cried Godes sand, 
 Ahnight ; 
 
 Tristrem with his lirat d, 
 Fast gan to fight. 
 
 \T. 
 
 The geaiiiit arounie " he stode, 
 
 His bond he tint V wis ; 
 He fleighe ■* as he wer wodc, 
 
 Ther that the castel is ; 
 Tristrem trad in the blod, 
 
 And fond the hond that was his ; 
 Oway Sir Tristrem yode ; 
 
 The geaunt com with this, 
 And sought, 
 
 To hele his honde that was his, 
 Salves hadde he brought. 
 
 VH. 
 
 Urgan the geaunt unride 
 
 After Sir Tristrem wan ; 
 The cuntre fer and wide, 
 
 Y-gadred was bi than ; 
 Tristrem thought that tide, 
 
 — " V take that me Gode an ; " — 
 On a brigge he gan abide ; 
 
 Biheld ther mani a man : 
 Thai mett : 
 
 Urgan to Tristrem ran, 
 And grimli there thai gret. 
 
 ' A»!?er, - Immediately. • At a distance. * Flew,
 
 TlfO.UAS OF JtliClLDOUXE. 2\ 
 
 Mil. 
 
 Strokes of nuchcl miglit, 
 
 Thai (Icllcn hoiii bituenc ; 
 Thai thurch her brinies' bri^lit, 
 
 I for bother l)lode-' was sene : 
 Tristrein faugbt as a knight, 
 
 And I'rgan al in lene, 
 ^'af liini a stroke unlight ; 
 
 His sclield lie clef l)ituenc, 
 A-t\o 
 
 Tristreni with nulcn wenc, 
 Nas neuer" are so wo. 
 
 IX. 
 
 VA Urgan sniot with main, 
 
 Anil of tliat stroke he niislc ; 
 Tri>trein sniot ogayn, 
 
 And tlmrcii Ids body lie thrcslc ; 
 Urgan lepe unfain, 
 
 Oner the bregge he destc : 
 Tristreni liath Urgan slain, 
 
 Tliat alle the cuntre wist. 
 With wide: 
 
 The King tho Tristreni kist. 
 And Wales tho yeld him tille. 
 
 ' Iklincts. - The Mood of both. •' Was not.
 
 2 2 MlVSTRELSY of THE MeR^E. 
 
 SIR RICHARD MAITLAND. 
 1 496- 1 5 86. 
 
 IT was a fortunate day for Scottish literature when 
 Sir Richard Maitland, the bh'nd baron of Thirl- 
 stane, prompted by his patriotism, began to collect 
 and transcribe into two portly volumes the writings 
 of many of the old Scottish " makars." For such an 
 undertaking he is most worthily entitled to the 
 remembrance of posterit}-. It was, in truth, a patriot's 
 legacy to his country, and as such has largely 
 enriched the treasury of Scottish song. But Sir 
 Richard was himself a poet of no mean repute. In 
 spite of adverse circumstances he had all the poet's 
 enthusiasm, and wrote with grace and dignit)% though 
 his memory is cherished rather for the kindl)- act of 
 seeking to preserve the musings of his predecessors 
 and contemporaries. There is a mixture of pathos 
 and romance in the picture of this old man, with 
 his daughter for amanuensis, plodding patiently and 
 perseveringly at the self-imposed task of gathering 
 together for the benefit of future ages the scattered 
 gems of Scotland's song. 
 
 Sir Richard Maitland was the twelfth baron of 
 Thirlstanc, but is more frcqucntl}' known by his 
 territorial designation of " Lethington." ^ He was 
 
 ^ Lethington, an cstali; near Haddington, and now called Lcnnox- 
 love, in token of its having been ])uicha.sed l)y an ancestor of the 
 Lauderdale family with a legacy heqiieathed to liini hy a l)eauliful 
 Countess of Llhihix.
 
 6'/ A- Richard Mali land. 23 
 
 the son of William Maitlaiid of Lcthington. who was 
 killed at Modden in 15 13, and Martha, daughter of 
 George, second Lord Seaton. On the 13th October, 
 1 5 13, we find him served heir to his father. He 
 received his education at St. Andrews and in France, 
 where he completed his studies for the Bar. On his 
 return home he was frequently employeci by James V. 
 in various public commissions. In Ma}', 1551, he 
 was created an Extraordinary Lord of Session, and 
 received the honour of knighthood. He was sent 
 occasionally to settle affairs on the Borders, and in 
 1559 concluded the treaty of Upsettlington. In 
 October, 1560, he lost his e\-esight, a misfortune 
 which, however, did not incapacitate him for pro- 
 fessional work. In November, 1561, he was raised 
 to the rank of an Ordinary Lord of Session as Lord 
 Lethington. In December, 1562, he was made Lord 
 Privy Seal, which office he held till 1567, when he 
 resigned it in favour of his second son. In 1584 he 
 gave up his seat on the Bench, and w as the recipient 
 of a congratulatory letter from the king — James VI. — 
 which bore testimon}' to the faithful discharge of 
 important public duties in the service of his " grand- 
 sire, good-sire, good-dame, mother, and himself." ^ 
 Sir Richard died 30th March, 1586, at the age of 
 ninety. In 1530 he had married Mary, daughter of 
 Sir Thomas Cranstoun of Corsbie, who died on the 
 day of her husband's interment. By her he had a 
 large family, of whom three sons and four daughters 
 
 'James v.; Karl of Lcnin)\ : Mary of Cluisc ; (^)ueen Mary; 
 lames VI.
 
 24 MlX^TKKLSV 0J-- THE MeRSE. 
 
 survived their parents. His dautjhtcrs were all 
 wedded to Border gentlemen : Helen, to John 
 Cockburn of Clerkington ; ]\Iargaret, to William 
 Douglas of Whittinghamc ; Mary, to Alexander 
 Lawder of Hatton ; and Isabel, to James Heriot of 
 Trabroun. His eldest son, William, was the cele- 
 brated Secretary IMaitland ^ of Queen Mary's reign, 
 a man "who possessed more than his father's talents, 
 but less than his father's virtues." 
 
 It was exactly two centuries after the death of 
 Sir Richard Maitland when Pinkerton drew from 
 obscurity and ga\e to the public a selection from 
 the now famous manuscript,- and fifty-three years 
 later the Maitland Club printed separately Sir 
 Richard's own contributions." The collection consists 
 of two MS. volumes, one of which is in the hand- 
 writing of his daughter Mar\-. These are now in 
 the Pepysian Library of Magdalen College, Cam- 
 bridge, having been presented along with other MSS. 
 by the only Duke of Lauderdale to Samuel Pepys 
 the diarist. A third volume, containing most of 
 Maitland's own poems, was presented to the Edin- 
 burgh University Library by William Drummond of 
 Hawthornden. Sir Richard Maitland's poetry can 
 scarcely be termed striking. He was nearly sixty 
 
 1 .See Dr. .Skelton's "Maitland of Lethingt on." Edin., 1890. 
 
 ^ "Ancient Scottish Poems, never before in print, l)ut now pul)lished 
 from the M.S. Collections of Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington, 
 Knt." 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1786. In the appendix to Vol. II. he 
 gives a full account of the Maitland MSS. 
 
 ^ Poems of Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington. lidiicd by [oseph 
 Bnin for the Maitland Club. 410. Ldin.. 1839.
 
 S/K Richard MMtlasd. :i5 
 
 when he bct;"an to cultivate the nritinc;^ of verse. 
 There is consequently a lack of that intensit}- 
 of feelinij common to xounijer men, but witiial 
 he writes with wonderful encrg)- and sjMrit. lie 
 can be humorous or pathetic, stroni^K- satirical or 
 commendator)'. There is manliness in his verse, 
 straightforwardness, charit)-, and good taste. " His 
 compositions breathe the genuine spirit of piety and 
 benevolence. The cheerfulness of his natural disposi- 
 tion and his affiance in Divine aid seem to have 
 sup[)orted him with singular equanimity under the 
 pressure of blindness and old age" — (frviiig). He 
 has been lauded by his contemporary poets as a man 
 adorned b\- every virtue. Thomas Hudson, for 
 example, wrote the following sonnet on his death : — 
 " The sliding time so slyly slips away, 
 
 It reaves from us remembrance of our slate, 
 And while \vc do the care of time delay 
 
 We tyne the tide, and so lament too late. 
 Then to eschew much dangerous debait, 
 
 Propose for pattern manly Maitland knigiit : 
 Learn by his life to live in simple rail, 
 
 With love to God, religion, law, and right. 
 ]''or as he was of virtue lucent liglit. 
 
 Of ancient blood, of noble spirit and name, 
 Beloved of God and every gracious wight. 
 So died he auld, deserving worthy fame, 
 A rare example set for us to see 
 What we have been, now are, and ought to be." 
 
 Sir Richard's prose works are a " Chronicle and 
 History of the House of Seytoun,"^ and " Decisions 
 
 1 Edited for the Maitland Club by John Fullerton. 4to. Edin., 
 1S29. With the continuation of the History 1)y Alexander, \'iscounl 
 Kingston, to the year 1687.
 
 26 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 of the Court of Session between 1550 and 1565," a 
 work still in MS. — a folio of 120 pages^and pre- 
 served in the x\dvocates' Library at Edinbur^rh. 
 
 The Blind Baron's Co.\noRi. 
 
 rWritteii after thu despoiling, in 1570, of Sir Richard's House and Lands of 
 Blythe, in Lauderdale. 1 
 
 Blind man be Ijlyth, altliocli thai lliow Ijl- wrangil ; 
 
 Thoch Blytlio be herreit, tak no melancholic, 
 Thow shall be blyth, when that they shall be hangil 
 
 That Blythe has spulyeit ^ sa maliciouslie. 
 Be blyth and glad ; that nane perceive in thee 
 
 Thai thy blylhness consists in ryches ; 
 Bol thai ihow art blyth that elernalie 
 
 Shall reign with God in eternal blythness. 
 
 Thoch lliai have spulyeit Blythe of guiilis and gear, 
 
 Vet have thai thieves left lyand still the land ; 
 Quhilk to transport was nocht in thair poweir, 
 
 Nor yet will be, thoch na men thanic ganstand. 
 Thairfor Ije biylh : the tyni may be at hand, 
 
 <^)uhen tiiat Blythe shall be yit, with Godis grace, 
 As weel plenneist as ever thai it fand, 
 
 (^uhil smn shall rew the rinning of that race. 
 
 Ay to be blyth ay utwardlie appeir ; 
 
 That be na man it may jjerceivil be, 
 That thow pantis for tynsal of thy geir. 
 
 Lest thy unfriendis, that are proud and hie, 
 Be blyth and glad of thy adversitie. 
 
 Thairfor be stout, and gar them understand 
 For loss of geir thow takest na suft'rie : 
 
 For yil be glad thow hast cncuch of land. 
 
 Be blyth and glail, liieii ay in thy intent ; 
 
 For lesum - blythness is ane happie thing. 
 Be thow ncjcht blyth, what vaileth land or rent ? 
 
 And thow be l)lyth is cause of lang leiving. 
 
 Despoiled. - Lawful.
 
 S/A Richard Maitland. 27 
 
 Bo ihuw noclii biylli, thuch that iliow war an king. 
 
 Thy lyf is noclu Imt cair willioiil blytlincss. 
 Tluiirfur lie l)lytli : and pray lu (jod us bring 
 
 Till his blylhness ; and joy that is endless. 
 
 N'A KyNDNES AI' CoURI' without SlLI.ER. 
 [KyiuinoH :ic<|uaiiitance.] 
 .Siinilyme to courl I did repair, 
 
 Therein sum errands for to dres ; 
 Thinking I had sum friendis thair 
 To help fordwart my beseynes. 
 Hot, nut the less, 
 I fand nalhing bot doubilnes. 
 Auld kyndnes helpis not ane iiair. 
 
 To ane grit court-man I did speir ; 
 
 That I trowit my friend had bene. 
 Because we were of kyn sa neir. 
 
 To him my mater I did mene.' 
 Boi, with (lisdene, 
 lie tied as I had done him lene ; - 
 And wald not byd my tale to heir. 
 
 I wend that he, in word and deid, 
 
 For me. his kynsman, soukl have wrocht. 
 
 But to my speich he tuk na heid ; 
 Neirnes of blude he set at nocht. 
 Than weel I thocht, 
 
 When I for sibncss'' to him socht. 
 
 It was the wrang way that I geid. 
 
 My hand I put into my sleif, 
 
 And furlhe of it ane purs I drew ; 
 
 And said I brochl it him to geif. 
 Bayth gold ami silver I him scliew. 
 Tlien he did rew 
 
 That he unkindlie me mis-knew ; — 
 
 And him ■* the pur> fest in his neif. 
 
 'Mention. -Sorrow. ■' Kiiidifil. ' ('u\ivr)it.
 
 28 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 Fra lyme lie gat tlie purs in liand 
 He kyndlie onisin callif nie. 
 
 Ami hade mc gar him understand 
 My beseynes all haillalie.' 
 And swair that he 
 
 .My trow an<l faythfull friend suld l>e 
 
 In court as I pks liini command. 
 
 F(jr which heller it i>, I irow, 
 Inl<i the courle to gel .supple, 
 
 T(i have ane ])urs of fyne gold fow 
 Nor to the hiast of degre 
 Of kyn to be. 
 
 Sa alters our nobilitie. 
 
 Grit kynrent hclpis lylil now. 
 
 Tluurfor, my friends, gif you will mak 
 All courle men youris as ye wald, 
 
 Liude gold and silver with yow tak ; 
 Than to tak help ye may be bald. 
 For it is lauld, 
 
 h'yiuliu's of court e is cofl and said, 
 
 Neirness of kyn na thing thai rak.- 
 
 (JUIJK COUNSEI.S. 
 
 Luifvertcw ever and all vycis flee, 
 
 Wickitncss halt alway, gudeness embrace, 
 Rcmuvc rancour and aye kcip charilie, 
 
 I'roudness dctesl, envy frae ye far chacc ; 
 Greediness never let in thee tak place ; 
 
 Be honoural)le and well credence keip ; 
 BeFeynes to give ever tyme and space. 
 
 Trewlie serve God, and as for synnis weip. 
 
 [Thir auoht l.vnes ye may beiriii at ony nuke ye will ; and reid backward or 
 foreward, and ye sail find lhpl,\k sentence and nieler.] 
 
 ' Completely. - Stretcli.
 
 Jy.\KO.\ MaITI.AXD of TlllRLSTASE. 29 
 
 BARON MAITLAND OF THIRLSTANK. 
 
 1545-1595- 
 
 JOHN MAITLAND, second son of Sir Richard 
 Maitland, was born in 1545. Me received part of 
 his education in Scotland, and was afterwards 
 sent to France to stud}' law . Upon his return to his 
 native country he practised as an advocate, in u hich 
 profession he soon made himself famous. From 1 566 
 to 1 573 he was Commendator of Coldingham, and on 
 26th August, 1 567, he received the office of Lord Privy 
 Seal in succession to his father, both of which offices 
 he held till 1 570, when, for his loyalty to the queen, 
 he lost the latter, which was conferred on George 
 Buchanan. He was made a Lord of Session in 
 April, 1 58 1, Secretary of State to James VI. in 15S4, 
 and Lord High Chancellor in June, 1586. In 1589 
 he attended the king on his voyage to Norway for 
 his bride, the Princess Anne of Denmark. In i 590 
 he was raised to the peerage under the title of Baron 
 Maitland of Thirlstane. About this time he married 
 Jean, only daughter of James, Lord Fleming. To- 
 wards the end of 1592 he incurred the queen's 
 displeasure for refusing to relinquish his lordship of 
 Musselburgh, which she claimed as being part of that 
 of Dunfermline. He absented himself for some time 
 from court, but was eventuall)- restored to royal 
 favour. He died of a lingering illness on the 3rd 
 of October, 1595. His only son was created Farl of
 
 30 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 Lauderdale by James VI. in 1624, and this earl's 
 son became the first and only Duke of Lauderdale 
 (1616-1682). 
 
 Spottiswood thus sums up the character of Baron 
 Maitland : " He was a man of rare parts, and of deep 
 wit, learned, full of courage, and most faithful to his 
 king and master. No man did ever carry himself in 
 his place more wisely, nor sustain it more courage- 
 ously against his enemies." ^ 
 
 He was a great favourite with James VI., who 
 wrote four " Visions " in his praise, and mourned his 
 death in the following poetical epitaph : 
 
 " Thou passenger ! that spies with gazing eyes 
 
 Tliis trophy sad of Death's triumphant dart, 
 Consider when this outward tomb thou sees, 
 
 How rare a man leaves here his earthly part ; 
 His wisdom and his uprightness of heart, 
 
 His piety, his practice of our state. 
 His quick engine so versed in every art 
 
 As equally not all were in debate. 
 Thus justly hath his death brought forth of late 
 
 An heavy grief in prince and subjects all 
 That virtue love, and vice do bear a hate, 
 
 Though vicious man rejoices at his fall. 
 So for himself most happy doth he die, 
 
 Though for his prince it most unhappy l^e. " 
 
 Lord Thirlstane wrote a large number of Latin 
 poems, epigrams, etc.,- most of which are to be found 
 in the " Delitiai Poetarum Scotorum," Vol. II. Several 
 of these have been inserted in the collection of his 
 
 * " History of the Church of Scotland," p. 412. 
 - Joannes Metcllani Thirlstonii domini Scotiae quondam Cancellarii 
 ppigrami, in P. I'. S., Vol. H., |i. i6q,
 
 B.IKOA- MaJTLAND of luiRLSTASE. 3I 
 
 father's poems printed by the Maithmd Club in 1830. 
 He is the author also of the well-known satirical 
 ballad, " Against Slanderous Tongues," and of " An 
 Admonition to the Earl of Mar," described by 
 Pinkerton as the best State poem he had ever read.^ 
 
 Aganis Ski.anoerous TotiNr.is. 
 
 Gif- bissie-hranit borlis you bakbyte ; 
 
 And of some wickit wittis ye are invyit, 
 ( )uha wald deprave your doings for dispite ; 
 
 Despise thair devilliche deming, and defy it. 
 For fra that tyme and treuthe thair talis have tryit, 
 
 The suythe sail shew itself out to their shame. 
 And be thair speche thair spyte sail be espyit, 
 
 And have na fayth, nor foute aganes your fame. 
 
 Misknow thair craft ; and kythe'' not as ye kcnd it : 
 
 Thair doings will thair deling sone detect, 
 For gif ye greit, find fait, or be offendit, 
 
 Thair sawis to be suythe sum will suspect. 
 Bot gif thair leyis ye lichtlie, and neglect, 
 
 And let them lie, and tax you as they list ; 
 Fra tyme thai find thair fabils fail! effect, 
 
 Thai will deny thair deling and desist. 
 
 As furious finds with gritter force ay flowis, 
 
 And starker stevin'' quhere stoppit are the stremis ; 
 And gorgit waters ever gritter growis ; 
 
 And forcit fyres with gritter gleids out glemis : 
 And ay more brichl and burning is the beymis 
 
 Of Phebus' face, that fastest are reflexit ; 
 So gude renoun, quhilk railer's rage repremis 
 
 Advancis more, the more invyars vex it. 
 
 ' See Pinkerton's "Ancient Scottish Poems," Vol. I., p. i6q. 
 •- If. » Appear. * Bro.vieii,
 
 13 MlNSTKKLSY OF THE MeRS£. 
 
 J- 
 
 The more thai speik, the sunar are thai spyit, 
 
 The more thai lie, your hik will be the less. 
 The more thai talk, the treuth is sooner tryit. 
 
 The more planelie thair poysone thai express 
 The less thai cause thair credit to increase. 
 
 The more thai wirk, the less thair wark avances, 
 The more thai preis ^ your praysis to oppres, 
 
 The gritter of your gloir is the glancis. 
 
 Do quhat ye dow, detrattours ay will deme yow, 
 
 Quhais crafte is to calumpniat but cans ; 
 I5akb)tars ay be brutis will blaspheme you ; 
 
 Althoch the contrair all the cuntrie knaws. 
 And, wald ye ward you upe betwene twa wais, 
 
 Vit so ye sail not frome thair sayings save you 
 Bot, gif thai see sussie- of thair fais, 
 
 Blasone thai will, however ye behave yow. 
 
 Gif ye be secreit, sad, and solitair ; 
 
 Peirtlie thai speik that privalie ye play ; 
 And gif in publick places ye repair 
 
 Ye seke to see and to be sene, thai say. 
 \\ ar ye a sanct, thai suld suspect you ay. 
 
 Be ye humane, our humill thai will hold you. 
 Ciif ye bear strange, thai you esteme ower slay : •' 
 
 And trows it is ye, or els sum has it tald you. 
 
 Gif ye be blyth, your lychtness thai will lak. 
 
 Gif ye be grave, your gravitee is clekit. 
 Gif ye lyk mask and mirthe, or mirrie mak : 
 
 Thai sweir ye feill ane string : and bowns"* to brek it. 
 Gif ye be seik, sum flychtis are suspectit ; 
 
 An<l all your sairris callet secreit sunyeis. 
 Claiths thai dispyte, and be ye claylie deckit, 
 
 " Persave," thai say, "the papings that pruinyeis."-"' 
 
 > Excite. 2 Careful. ^ Lofty. * Re.afly. 
 
 ^ Parrot that iiriiius its fe.itherg,
 
 /i.lKOX ATa/TLAXI) OJ'- THIRLSTAXK. 
 
 r,if ye 1)6 wyis, and well in verlcw versit, 
 
 Cunning, thni call, uncumlie for your kyn<I. 
 And say il is l)ol slyclilis ye have fcirsil 
 
 To clok the craflc, quhairlo ye ar inclynd. 
 (jif ye be meik, yit thai niistak your mind ; 
 
 And sweir ye ar far shrewdar nor ye seme. 
 Sua do your best, thus sail ye be defynd ; 
 
 And all your deidis sail detractours deme, 
 
 \it thai will leif thair leeing at tlie last. 
 
 Fra thay advert invy will not availl : 
 Hakbytar's brutis bydi> boi ane blast ; 
 
 Thai rtureis sone, but forder fructe thai faill. 
 Rek not thairfore how raschlie ravars raill : 
 
 For never was vertew yit without invy. 
 So promptlie sail your patience prevail!, 
 
 ()uhere thai perhape sic deming sail deir liy. 
 
 33 
 
 c
 
 34 M/XSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 THOMAS MAITLAND. 
 
 1550-1572. 
 
 THOMAS MAITLAND was the third son of 
 the bh'nd Knight of Thirlstane, and was born 
 in 1550. He was a young man of brilliant intellect, 
 wide scholarship, and large sympathies. Had he lived 
 he would undoubtedl)- have done much to extend 
 the fame of his illustrious house. He composed 
 a number of correct Latin poems which, if they do 
 not display a vigorous imagination, at least evince 
 great command of the Latin tongue, and arc written 
 with ease and s})irit. They arc printed in the 
 " Delitia; Poetarum Scotorum," Vol. H. pp. 162-171. 
 Besides his poetical works he appears to have 
 written a treatise on undertaking a war against 
 the Turks, and a discourse or oration addressed 
 to Queen Elizabeth, urging the propriety of setting 
 Mary at liberty, and of restoring her to sovereign 
 power. This latter production, in MS., supposed to 
 have been written about 1570, is now in Edinburgh 
 University Library. He is better known as one of 
 the interlocutors with George Buchanan in the 
 dialogue " De jure rcgni apud Scotos." Thomas 
 Maitland died in Itah' in 1 572, at the earh- age of 
 twenty-two.
 
 MaRV Ma I TLA xd. 
 
 MARY MAITLAND. 
 
 Fl. 1580. 
 
 MARY MAITLAXD, 
 Richard Maitland, wi 
 
 ARY MAITLAXD, third daughter of Sir 
 
 ,'as born about the }ear 
 1550. In consequence of her father's bHndness she 
 became his amanuensis, and, amongst other works, 
 transcribed a considerable portion of the MSS. now 
 in the Pepysian Librar)-. The volumes contain 
 several compositions of her own, but the difficulty 
 of obtaining these hinders a selection being made for 
 this work. She married Alexander Lawder of Hatton, 
 and had a numerous famil}'. One of her sons, George 
 Lawder, holds a respectable place among the poets of 
 the seventeenth century. Several pieces which he 
 wrote between 1639 and 1660 have been printed in 
 a volume entitled " Fugitive Scottish Poetry of the 
 Seventeenth Centur}'," Edin., 1825, edited by Dr. 
 David Laing. His "Tears on the Death of Evander"^ 
 — a monody on the death by drowning of Sir John 
 Swinton of Swinton is probabh' the best known of 
 these pieces. 
 
 ' Bannatyne Cliili Garland, Xc. XI. Svo, Edin., 184S.
 
 36 Minstrelsy of the Mens p.. 
 
 EARL OF LAUDERDALE. 
 
 1653-1695. 
 
 RICHARD, fourth Earl of Lauderdale, was born 
 oil 20th June, 1653. While quite a young man 
 he held several important public positions, and for 
 three years (168 1- 1684) the office of Lord Justice- 
 General of Scotland. He married Lad\- Anne 
 Campbell, second daughter of the ninth Earl of 
 Argyll. In consequence of political troubles through 
 his strong attachment to the House of Stuart, he 
 fled to Paris, where he wrote a translation of Virgil's 
 " yEneid," which was published in two volumes in 
 ^7Z7- It ^^'^s considered a very fair rendering of 
 the immortal epic, and Dryden, who saw the manu- 
 script, is reported to have stripped it without 
 acknowledgment of not a few of its beauties for 
 the embellishment of his own translation. Dr. 
 Trapp says of Lauderdale's version that " it is 
 prett)' near the original, though not so close as 
 its brevity would make one imagine." The Earl 
 occasionally employed his pen in writing English 
 verse, but none of his compositions seem to survive.
 
 6Va' J\irKicK Hume. 37 
 
 SIR PATRICK HUME. 
 1 556- 1609. 
 
 ])ATRICK, eldest son of Sir Patrick Hume, fifth 
 laird of Pohvarth, by Agnes I lome of Mander- 
 stoii, born in 1556, was educated for the Bar, and 
 resided chiefly at the ro}al court, where he w as in 
 great favour with James VI. Among the names of the 
 twenty-five gentlemen appointed to attend on the 
 king "at all times of his riding and passing to the 
 field," we find one of them st}'led the "\'oung laird of 
 Polwarth." He was made Master of the Household in 
 I59r, one of the Gentlemen of the King's Bed- 
 chamber, and Warden of the Marches.^ He married 
 Juliana, daughter of Sir Thomas Ker of Fernihirst. 
 He died 15th June, 1609. 
 
 Hume is best known for his F/ytiug, after the 
 manner of that between Dunbar and Kennedy 
 addressed to Alexander Montgomery under the name 
 of " Polwart." This Flytiiig is full of rough scurrilit)' 
 and boisterous sarcasm, and the contending parties 
 do not scruple to hurl at each other the most oppro- 
 brious epithets. He is, however, the author of a more 
 .sensible poem, The Proininc, addressed to the king, 
 which has been reprinted from the original edition of 
 1580 in Dr. Laing's "Select Remains of the Ancient 
 Popular and Romance Poetry of Scotland," 1823.- 
 
 ' Crawford's Peer.igc, \). 313. 
 
 - Re-etlited willi Memorial, Introiiiiction, and .Additions, Ly Dr. 
 John Small, Edin., 1885.
 
 3S J/j.\srKj:Lsy of the Mhr^se. 
 
 ALEXANDER HUME. 
 
 1 560-1609. 
 
 ALEXANDER HUME, a gifted poet-preacher of 
 the sixteenth centur}', was a scion of the noble 
 house of Pohvarth, being the second son of Patrick, 
 the fifth laird. He was born about 1 560, and received 
 part of his education at St. Andrews, where, in 1574, 
 he took his degree of B.A. According to the custom 
 of the time, and as befitted a gentleman's son, he 
 completed his studies in law — for which profession he 
 was destined— in France, most probably at the 
 University of Paris. Upon his return home he 
 practised for three years, but became disgusted with 
 his calling on account of the corrupt and venal 
 practices then prevalent in Scottish courts of justice. 
 In a poetical epistle to his friend Gilbert Moncrciff, 
 the king's physician, he gives his own reasons for 
 quitting the Bar : 
 
 " Three years, or near lliat space, 
 I haunted maist our highest pleading place 
 And senate, where great causes reasoned were : 
 My breast was hruised with leaning on the bar, 
 My buttons brist, I jiartly spitted blood, 
 My gown was trailed and trampled where I stood, 
 Mine ears were cleaved with macer's cries and din, 
 Wliich proculors and ])arties called in : 
 I daily learned but could not pleased be ; 
 I saw sic things as i)ity was to see." 
 
 Vxoxw the courts of law he turned to the court of 
 royalt)-. but with a like result. There also were
 
 Alexaxder Hume. ;59 
 
 main- thini;s wholh- ;il \ariancc with the intcgrit)- 
 of his nature. He was a pious man this quondam 
 barrister and courtier, and had a soul above the 
 rampant worldh'ness of his day ; it was fitting there- 
 fore that the Church shouUl chu'm his attention, and, 
 accordingly, we find him, after the usual period of 
 training, ordained to the pastorate of the lovely 
 parish of Logie, near Stirling, 30th August, 1597. 
 Here he lived and laboured, writing poetry and 
 preaching eloquently, fulfilling the duties of his office 
 with a large measure of success until his death on 
 the 4th December, 1609, at the age of forty-nine. 
 He was survived by one son, Caleb, and tw^o daughters, 
 and by his wife Marion, daughter of John Duncanson, 
 Dean of the Chapel Royal. 
 
 In 1599 Hume published his " Hymnes and Sacred 
 Songs," ^ dedicated to the " faithful and virtuous 
 Elizabeth Melville, Lady Culross," the authoress of 
 Ane Godly Dream, a poem long popular among 
 Scottish Presb}terians. The Bannatyne Club re- 
 printed these "Hymnes" in 1832. The principal 
 poem in the collection is The Day Estivall, an exceed- 
 ingly fine piece of descriptive scenery, and ranking 
 very high amongst sixteenth-century productions. 
 In it he describes with genuine simplicit}' and pathos 
 the glories of a long summer day. Leyden delighted 
 in the poem,- and Campbell, in his " Specimens of the 
 British Poets," ^ refers to it as a " train of images that 
 
 ^ Published by Robert Waldegrave, Edin. This edition is now 
 extremely rare, only tluxe copies being known to exist. 
 
 - "Scottish Descriptive Poems,'' Edin., iSoj, pj). 193-214. 
 ' Vol. II., Y\). 238-247.
 
 45 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 seem singularly pleasing and unborrowed, the picture 
 of a poetical mind, humble, but genuine in its cast." 
 The poem presents, says Chambers, " a description of 
 the progress and effects of a summer's day in Scot- 
 land, accompanied by the reflections of a mind full of 
 natural piet)', and a delicate perception of the beauties 
 of the physical world. The easy flow of the numbers, 
 distinguishing it from the harsher productions of the 
 same age, and the arrangement of the terms and 
 ideas, prove an acquaintance with English poetry, 
 but the subject and the poetical thought are entirely 
 the author's own. They speak strongly of the 
 elegant and fastidious mind, tired of the Bar and 
 disgusted with the court, finding a balm to the 
 wounded spirit in being alone with Nature and 
 watching her progress. The style has an unrestrained 
 freedom which may please the present age, and the 
 contemplative feeling thrown over the whole, mingled 
 with the artless vividness of the descriptions, bringing 
 the objects immediately before the eye, belong to a 
 species of poetry at which some of the brightest 
 minds have lately made it their study to aim."' ^ 
 
 In his quiet rural parish at the foot of the Ochils, 
 Hume would find abundant material for that choice 
 imagery which sparkles in his song. The scenery 
 around the old kirk and manse of Logic was just 
 of the kind to fire his poetic soul. Nature in her 
 many moods lent inspiration, and sermon and song 
 alike combined in devout thanksgiving. The singer 
 coulrl rise from Nature to Nature's God, and while he 
 
 ' Chambers's " Dictionary of Eminent .Scotsmen," Vol. III., ji. 95.
 
 AtEXANi^ER Hum I.. 41 
 
 praised the j^lorics of the earth that should vanish 
 from his sight, he was drawn towards tliat grander 
 Glor\' which is eternal and unchanging — a new 
 heaven and a new earth wherein dwelleth righteous- 
 ness. He is a poet-preacher of the true stamp, 
 ihoroughl}' conscious of his duty and responsibilit}-, 
 and striving alwaxs to inculcate a lofty standard 
 of morality and spiritual life amongst his fellow- 
 men. 
 
 His other poems are thus entitled : The Author s 
 Recantation ; God's Benefits on j\lan ; Consohxtion to 
 his Sorrowing Soul ; Thanks for the Deliverance of 
 the Sick ; God's TriunipJi (a poem on the defeat of 
 the Spanish Armada, greatly praised by Leyden) ; 
 Of God's Omnipotence : Epistle to Gilbert Moncreiff 
 ■ — which latter is the only account we have of 
 Hume's early life. 
 
 His prose works are : " Ane Treatise of Con- 
 science," i2mo, Edin., 1594; "On the Felicity of 
 the World to Come," 1 594 ; " Four Discourses of 
 Praises to God," 1 594 ; " Rejoinder to Dr. Adam 
 Hill concerning the Descent of Christ into Hell ; " 
 " Anc afold Admonition to the Ministeric of Scot- 
 land, be ane Deeing Brother," 1607 — ^ tractate 
 discovered among the Wodrow MSS. in the Advo- 
 cates' Library, and printed by the Bannatync Club. 
 It embraces a strong defence of Church government 
 by Presbyter}', and a ver}' telling invective against 
 those ministers who, to gratify the whims of James 
 VI., were appointed to the office of bishops in the 
 Church. It is possibK' on account of this tractate
 
 j\: J//.ysy7ii:lsy of tui: Merse. 
 
 that Row has conimeiuled Hume in his •' History " 
 as one of llic faithful presbyters who witnessed 
 "against the hierarchy of prelac}' in tliis kirk."^ 
 
 Till-: Uay Ksi i\ am.. 
 [A Stiiiniicr'i Ihiy.) 
 
 O ]icifcct li^lil tlial slicd away 
 
 Tlic (iarkiiess from the liglit, 
 And set a iiilcr o'er tlic day, 
 
 Anotlier o'er llic night. 
 
 Thy gloiy, when the day foitli llies, 
 
 More brightly doth appear 
 Than at mid-day unto our eyes 
 
 Tlie shining sun is clear ! 
 
 Tlie shadow of the earth anon 
 
 Removes and drawis l)y, 
 Syne in tlie cast, when it is gone. 
 
 Ajipears a clearer sky, 
 
 ^Vllich soon perceives the little larks, 
 
 The lapwing and the sni])e, 
 And tunc their song, like Nature's clerks. 
 
 O'er niead(j\v, nuiir, and strii)e. 
 
 But ever) hold nocturnal beast 
 
 No longer may abide, 
 They hie away, both niaisl and least, 
 
 Themselves in house to hide. 
 
 The golden globe incontinent 
 
 Sets up hi.s shining head, 
 And on the earth and firmament 
 
 Disjilays his beams abread. 
 
 ' " History of the Church of Scotland," pj). 94, 95.
 
 A/.Js.\:i\j>/:/< ]JuMJ.. 4,'^ 
 
 I'lir joy llic l)ii(l^ will) Ixihlcn ' lliiuals 
 
 Against liis visage sheen. 
 Take up their kindly music nutcs, 
 
 In woods and gardens green. 
 
 Starts up tlie careful iuishanihnan 
 
 His Corn and vines tu see, 
 And every timeous artisan 
 
 In booths \\orks busily. 
 
 The pastor cpiils the slothful sheep 
 
 And passes forth with sjieed, 
 His little camow-nosed - sheep 
 
 And rowting •' kye to feed. 
 
 The passenger from perils sure. 
 
 (joes glady forth the way : 
 Brief, every living creature near. 
 
 Takes comfort of the day. 
 
 The misty reek, the clouds of rain, 
 
 From tops of mountains skails,^ 
 Clear are the highest hills and plain 
 
 The vapours take the vales. 
 
 Begaircd ' is the sapphire pend '' 
 
 With spraings" of scarlet hue ; 
 And ))rcciously froni end to end 
 
 Damasked white and blue. 
 
 The ample heaven, of fabric .sure. 
 
 In clearness docs surpass 
 The crystal and the silver jiure. 
 
 As clearest polished glass. 
 
 The time so tran<juil is and clear, 
 
 That nowhere shall ye find, 
 Save on a high and barren hill, 
 
 The air of passing wind. 
 
 > Inflated. - Flat-uoscd. ■' Lowing. « Scatters. * Variefjated. 
 " Arcli. ' Streaks.
 
 44 M/xsr/cELsy or rm-. Merse. 
 
 All trees and simples, j;rcat ami small, 
 W'hicli balmy loaf do l)arc. 
 
 Than tlicy \\cie paintcil on a wall. 
 Nor move llioy more or stir. 
 
 Tlie rivers fre.->l), the caller streams, 
 O'er rocks that swiftly rin 
 
 Tlu' water clear like cry.stal l)eani>. 
 And makes a |)leasanl din. 
 
 Calm i> the deep and purple sea. 
 Yea, smoother than the sand ; 
 
 Tiic waves that wollerin}; wont to be, 
 Arc stable like the land. 
 
 So silent is the cessile air 
 
 That every cry and call 
 The hills and dales, and forest fair, 
 
 Ayain repeat them all. 
 
 Tile clogget, l)Usy, lniinmin<^ bees, 
 That never think It) drone, 
 
 On llowers and flourishes of trees 
 Collect their li<|uor l)rown. 
 
 The sun, most like a snceily i)ost, 
 ^^'ith ardent course ascends ; 
 
 Tlie beauty i>f the hea\enly host 
 Up lo the zenith tends. 
 
 The brealliless llocks draw to tlie shade 
 ,\n<l freshness of their fauld ; 
 
 The startling nolt, as they were mad, 
 Kun to the rivers cauld. 
 
 The herds beneath some leafy trees 
 
 Amidst the flowers lie ; 
 The stable ships upon the seas 
 
 Hang up their sails to dr).
 
 Alexander Hume. 45 
 
 The hart, the hind, the fallow deer, 
 
 Are tapishcd ' at their rest ; 
 The fowls and birds that made the beare,- 
 
 Prepare their pretty nest. 
 
 The rayons dure'* descending d«>\vn 
 
 All kirn lie in a gleid ;■* 
 In city or in l)()roiigh town 
 
 May none set forth their head. 
 
 Back from the blue pavemenled whiin/' 
 
 And from ilk plaster wall. 
 The hot reflection of the sun 
 
 Inflames the air and all. 
 
 The labourers that timely rose, 
 
 All weary, faint, and weak, 
 For heat tlown to their houses goes. 
 
 Noon-meat and sleep to take. 
 
 The caller wine in cave is sought, 
 
 Men's brothing*" hearts to cool ; 
 The water cold and clear is brought, 
 
 And salads steeped in ale. 
 
 With gilded eyes and open wings. 
 
 The cock his courage shows ; 
 With claps of joy his breast he dings. 
 
 And twenty times he crows. 
 
 The dove with whistling wings so blue 
 
 The winds can fast collect, 
 Her purple opens many a hue 
 
 Against the sun direct. 
 
 Now noon is gone — gone is niid-ilay. 
 
 The heat does slake at last ; 
 The sun descends down west away, 
 
 For three o'clock is past. . 
 
 'Couching'. * Noise. ^ Keen. 'Blaze. ■' \V)iiiistone pavenienl. " lleate<l.
 
 .[6 M/.vsrA'ELsy of the Mkhse. 
 
 Tlio rayons of the sun we see 
 Dimiiiibh iu their strength, 
 
 The shade of every tower and tree 
 I'xtended is at length. 
 
 Great is tiie calm, for everywhere 
 The wind is settling ilown, 
 
 The reck throws up right in the air 
 From every lower and town. 
 
 The mavis and tlie philonieen, 
 
 The starling whistles loud, 
 The cushats on the branches green 
 
 I'ull (|uietly they crood. 
 
 The gloamin' comes, the day is spent, 
 
 The sun goes out of sight. 
 And ]3ainled is the occideni 
 
 Willi jiurple, sanguine bright. 
 
 The scarlet or the goldt-n thread. 
 Who would their beauty tr> ? 
 
 Are noiiiing like the colour red, 
 And beauty of the sky. 
 
 What pleasure then to walk and see 
 
 l!iidlong ' a river clear, 
 Tile perfect furm of every tree 
 
 W ilhin ihe iic(.-|i appear ! 
 
 The salmon nut i>f cruives- and creels •• 
 
 l'])hailed into scouts,'' 
 The bells and circles on the weils" 
 
 Through leaping of the trouts. 
 
 Uh, sure it were a seemly thing, 
 
 While all is still and calm, 
 The praise of (lod to play and sing, 
 
 With lruni])Ct and with psalm ! 
 
 ,Alon(;. - Saliiioii-trap«. •'' UaKkclK, ' Sin.-ill lioalH or cobles. •' Rrtclies,
 
 Alexaxder Hume. 47 
 
 Through all the land great is the guild ' 
 
 Of rustic folks that cry, 
 Of bleating sheep, for they be fdled, 
 
 Of calves and rowting kye. 
 
 All labourers draw hanie at even. 
 
 And can to others say, 
 Tlianks to the gracious Ood of [leaven, 
 
 Who sent this summer day. 
 
 • f'lainoiii-.
 
 .^S MlXSTKELSV OJ- THE MeKSK. 
 
 DAVID HUME OF GODSCROFT.^ 
 
 1 560- 1 630. 
 
 DAVID HUME was the second son of Sir David 
 Mumc, seventh Baron of Wedderburn, by his 
 wife Mariota, daughter of Jolinstone of Elphinstone, 
 and grandson of that Baron of Wedderburn by whom 
 was jjlanned the slaughter of the French knight Dc 
 La Bastie. He was born about i 560, and received his 
 echication at Dunbar and St. Andrews, and on the 
 Continent. A Latin \)Ocv(\, Dap/tii- A vKmy/Hs, \\i\ii<i\\ 
 at the age of foiuteen, gained him the commenda- 
 tion of no less an authority than George Buchanan. 
 V\-(nn 1583 to 1588 he acted as secretary to his 
 relative, Archibald, the "good Earl of Angus." On 
 account of his complicity in the Raid of Ruthven, he 
 fled to London and resided there for some time. 
 In iTxDS we find him writing a tractate on the Union 
 of I'jigland and Scotland,- in favour of which he 
 flescantcd, as Bishop Nicolson says, in a clear Latin 
 st)le. In this same )-ear he published a selection of 
 Latin jjoems under the title of " Lusus J'octici," 
 which were afterwards incorporated with the "Deliti.'e 
 
 ' I lis territorial apiJcllation is supposed to liave been assumed as 
 more euphonious than the real name of his jiroperty — Clowkscroft. 
 It hears, especially in its Latin form, J/ieagrius, a strong analogy to 
 the word so touchingly employc-i] in flfrnian t<i designate a hurial 
 ground, as "(iod's Acre." 
 
 -' " Tractatus De Unione Insuhv Britannia," 4I0, Lend., 1605.
 
 D.win Hume of Godscroft. 49 
 
 Poetarum Scotorum.^ In 161 1 he wrote a "History 
 of the House of Wcdderburn," which was first 
 printed in 1839 from a copy in MS. that had been 
 preserved at Wcdderburn." In 161 2 appeared a 
 poem on tlic death of Prince Henr}-, I Iciirici Pfiucipis 
 /Nsta,^n<:\ in 1617 a long conoi-atulator\- poem on 
 the king's \isit to Scotland, Rcoi Sua Gratulatio. 
 From 1625 to 1629 he \\as engaged on his chief 
 work, a " History of the House and Race of Douglas 
 and Angus," which was published in 1646 by Evan 
 T)'ler, with a second edition by Ruddiman in 1743, 
 2 vols., i2mo. Hume died in 1630. A small volume 
 containing most of his poems was printed at Paris 
 in 1639.^ 
 
 Note. — Hume of Codscroft is not to be confounded, as he has 
 frequently been, with another David Hume, minister of one of the 
 Protestant churches on the Continent, and the author of several works 
 in Latin and French. 
 
 ^ Two vols., i6mo, printed at Amsterdam in 1637, edited by Arthur 
 Johnston, M.D, It is now a rare and valuable work. Hume's poems 
 will be found in Vol. I., pp. 378-438. Johnston (1587-1641) was one 
 of the foremost .Scottish Latin poets, and is said to equal George 
 Buchanan. 
 
 - " Davidis Humii de Familia Humia Wedderburnensi Liber," 
 edited for the Abbotsford Club liy [ohn Miller, >LD., 4to, Edin., 
 
 1S39. 
 •' " Poemata Ouinia," etc., Svo, I'aiis, 1639. 
 
 D
 
 50 MfXSTRELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 JAMES HUME, M.D. 
 Fl. 1640. 
 
 JAMES H r ME, son of David Hume of Godscroft, 
 and therefore sometimes described as " Scotus- 
 Theagrius," flourished during the seventeenth 
 century, and resided chiefly in France. On the title- 
 page of his earHest pubh'cation, " Pantaleonis Vati- 
 cinia Satyra," printed at Rouen in 1633, he is styled 
 " Med. Doctor." The " Satyra " is a very crude 
 Latin romance, dedicated to Sir Robert Ker, first 
 Earl of Ancram, and has an historical appendix on 
 contemporary affairs, mostly German. In 1634 
 Hume printed in Latin, " Proclium ad Lipsiam ; " 
 '' Gustavus Magnus ; " and " De Reditu Ducis Ameli- 
 ensis ex Flandria," as an appendix to his father's 
 " De Unione Insul.e Britanni;e," while between 1636 
 and 1640 he published at Paris a series of mathe- 
 matical treatises, nine in number, all in Latin and 
 French. He appears to have edited the 1639 (Paris) 
 edition of his father's poems, and to have added to 
 the work several pieces of his ou n coinposition.
 
 Anna Hume. 51 
 
 ANNA HUME. 
 V\. 1640. 
 
 ANNA HUME, daughter of David Hume of 
 Godscroft, superintended the publication of 
 her father's " History of the House and Race of 
 Douglas and Angus." William Douglas, eleventh Earl 
 of Angus, who was dissatisfied with Hume's work, 
 consulted Drummond of Hawthornden on the subject. 
 Drummond admitted various defects and extravagant 
 views in Hume's work, adding, however, that the 
 suppression of the book would ruin "the gentlewoman 
 who hath ventured, she says, her whole fortune" on 
 its publication. For nearly two years the dispute 
 delayed the publication of the work, which had been 
 printed in 1644 by Evan T)-ler, the king's printer. 
 In that same year Tyler published "The Triumphs 
 of Love, Chastity, Death, translated out of the 
 French of Petrarch into English verse by Mrs. Anna 
 Hume." A copy of this very rare work is in the 
 British Museum, and there is a reprint in Bohn's 
 "Translation of Petrarch by various Hands" (1859). 
 Her translation is considered to be faithful and 
 spirited. The second half of "The Triumph of 
 Love," Part HI., descriptive of the disappointed 
 lover, and the bright account of the fair maids in the 
 "Triumph of Chastity" is admirabh' rendered. Anna 
 Hume is said to have also translated her father's
 
 :>- 
 
 M/XSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Latin poems, and Drummond of Hawthorndcn, 
 acknowlcdginLj certain commendatory verses at her 
 hand, w rites to her as " the learned and worthy 
 gentlewoman, Mrs. Anna Hume," declarinLi" him- 
 self unwortlu' of " the bla/.on of so pregnant and 
 rare a wit."
 
 Lady Gkishli. Baili.ie. 53 
 
 LADY GRISELL BAILLIK. 
 
 1665-1746. 
 
 " '"T^HP: Mcrsc,'" sa)s Sarah T)tlci- in her " Son-- 
 X stresses of ScothuKl," " is famous in old 
 Scotch tradition for the beaut}- of its women and 
 the gallantry of its men." The " Men o' the Merse " 
 is a proverbial expression for strong ph^^sical 
 endurance on the part of the male population of 
 the county. Fidelity to dut\- and lo\-alt\- to home 
 and country have ever been leading characteristics 
 of the Scottish Borderer, but, as will shortly be seen, 
 the sterner sex are not alone in exemplifying 
 these estimable virtues. For the Merse has brave 
 women also on the scroll of her famous ones, and 
 Grisell Hume, the sweet-faced girl-heroine, is con- 
 spicuous above all others. I write here of her song, 
 but we can never forget the touching poetry of her 
 life, exemplified in that deed of filial devotedness 
 which must ever unite her with the noble women 
 of all time. 
 
 Gri.sell Hume was born in old l^edbraes Castle ' 
 on Christmas morning, 1665, and was the eldest of 
 Sir Patrick Hume's famih' (jf eighteen. On her 
 devolved to a considerable extent the care of this 
 large household, and opportunities for study and 
 
 ' Marchmont Hou.se .stands on the site of Redbracs CasUc. It was 
 also called Polwarth House. Godscroft refers to " the castle of 
 rolvvailh which is known as Redbracs."
 
 54 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 self-improvement were few and far between. Besides 
 that, the times were troublous. The Covenanting 
 struggle had drained Scotland of some of its best 
 blood. Sir Patrick Hume had been a zealous upholder 
 of Reformation principles. He had fought manfully 
 for his countr}-'s religious freedom, but a fresh 
 persecution brought again the evil days. Darkness 
 settled on the home at Redbraes, a warrant was 
 issued for the speedy arrest of Hume, and to escape 
 the bitter consequences which his capture entailed, 
 he had to flee for safet}- to the family vault beneath 
 Polwarth Kirk. The story of this trying period and 
 of his daughter's heroism has been told again and 
 again. No fact of history is better known in the 
 count}-, liut such gallant achievements arc alwaj's 
 worth)- of repetition : 
 
 " Though years come and go, 
 That glorious act of filial love 
 Shall shine in cloudless lustre." 
 
 Troopers were quartered in the castle and in the 
 vicinit)-, and evcr\- j^ossible means taken to break 
 off the retreat of the illustrious offender. V>\x\. all to 
 no purpo.se. His hiding-place remained a profound 
 secret, only Grisell, her mother, and an old carpenter 
 on the estate, Jamie Winter by name, knowing his 
 whereabouts. On the latter, who was a much 
 attached .servant of the family, they thought they 
 could depend, and were not deceived. With his 
 assistance a bed and bedclothes were secretly con- 
 veyed to the vault, and here, amongst the ashes of 
 his ancestors. Sir Patrick Hume lay concealed for
 
 Lady Grisell Baillie. 55 
 
 nearly a month. Of this terrible crisis many incidents 
 have been faithfully recorded. Grisell, of course, is 
 the chief fitrure. Her courage and coolness were 
 the agents most essential to her father's safety. 
 There was needed great skill in dealing with the 
 keen questionings of his {:)ursuers. And )ct she 
 held frequent and prolonged intercourse with him. 
 In the dead of night she set out alone, walking a 
 distance of over a mile, till she reached the grave- 
 yard and the old vault, and after suppl}'ing his bod>' 
 with the nourishment it required, and his soul with 
 true daughterly cheer, this faithful maiden trudged 
 her lonely road homewards before the day had begun 
 to break. Of these midnight excursions the following 
 two authentic incidents are related. The minister's 
 house was near the church, and on GriselFs going 
 past upon one occasion his dogs began to bark and 
 kept up such a noise as put her in the utmost fear 
 of discover)-. On mentioning this circumstance to 
 her mother, the latter sent the next day for the 
 minister, and on pretence of a mad dog, got him to 
 hane all his dogs. The other anecdote has reference 
 to the difficulty in secreting food for her father's 
 wants without the servants or any of the family 
 observing. Sir Patrick appears to have been some- 
 what fond of boiled sheep's head — for in those days 
 the aristocracy were content with plain, homely fare 
 — and one day at dinner, while the children where 
 supping their broth, Grisell managed to stow away 
 into her lap the greater part of a sheep's head, when 
 her brother Sandy looked up in astonishment and
 
 5^> Jf/ysTHEisy of the Merse. 
 
 said, " Mother, will }c look at Griscll ? While we 
 have been supping our broth she has eaten the whole 
 sheep's head." 
 
 At last the soldiers were w ithdraw n, and Sir Patrick 
 Hume returned to Redbraes, but the unsettled state of 
 the country made flight imperative, and according!)- 
 he and his family betook themselves from Scotland 
 and took refuge at Utrecht, in Holland, where there 
 u as already a considerable number of Scottish exiles. 
 l>ut the \ears there were hard and heavy. The 
 Berwickshire laird's family began to feel the pinch 
 of poverty. Death came and snatched away Chris- 
 tian, the flower of the flock, the singing favourite. 
 ^'et, amid all the \icissitudes of exile, they were a 
 brave and cheerful band. Grisell's unflinchincr devo- 
 tion to household duties, her dauntless courage, and 
 gentle, winning ways were strong factors in clearing 
 away the heavy clouds that had settled on this pious 
 home. She and her father made their Dutch abode 
 a characteristically Scottish one. It was the centre 
 of the Scotch community at Utrecht, and the exiled 
 gentlemen gathered there to talk of the land they so 
 much loved, of its past trials, its present troubles, and 
 its future hopes. This was the all-engrossing theme, 
 and right jjatriotically was it discussed over such 
 plain fare a.s porridge and milk, with small beer 
 instead of wine. Amid her numerous interests and 
 heavy responsibilities, Griscll found time to fill a 
 manuscript book with poems of her own composition. 
 Unfortunatel}', however, these are not alwaj's in the 
 most finished and perfect conditi(jn. Calls of domestic
 
 Lady Oris ell Baillie. 57 
 
 duty would come in the midst of composition, and> 
 often before leisure could be trained to comj)lcte the 
 verses, the inspiring thought had fled. But there 
 is one sweetly pathetic ballad which has escaped the 
 ceaseless activity of her Dutch life, and by this 
 quaint, old-fashioned, and touching rhyme, is our 
 liervvickshire heroine remembered as a poetess. 
 
 It was at Utrecht that she made the acquaintance 
 of her future husband, young George Baillie of 
 Jerviswood. He was the eldest son of that Robert 
 Baillie who suffered death in the Grassmarket of 
 Edinburgh in 1684 for his faithful adherence to 
 Presbyterian principles and his alleged complicity in 
 the Rye-House Plot. Friendship deepened into love, 
 and it was perfecth' understood between both 
 families that, so .soon as the darkness overshadowing 
 the fair land of Scotland had disappeared, the mar- 
 riage would take place. Grisell was a beautiful girl. 
 "She was middle-sized, well-made, clean in her person, 
 very handsome, with a life and sweetness in her eyes 
 very uncommon, and great delicacy in all her features." 
 Her hair was chestnut-coloured, long and wavy, her 
 speech pleasant and musical, always of a bright, 
 joyous disposition, filling old worn-out hearts with 
 renewed energy and gladness, and the fresh and 
 young with sparkling innocent glee. 
 
 But better days dawned at length. James II. was 
 deposed, and William of Orange, Stadtholder of 
 Holland, was offered the throne of Britain. He 
 arrived on the 5th of November, 1688, at Torbay, 
 with a numerous retinue, amongst whom was the brave
 
 58 Mlvstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 knighl uf roluarth and his equally brave dauL^htcr. 
 Sir Patriek Hume's devution was now rewarded with 
 the titles of Karl of Marchmont, Lord of Polwarth, 
 Redbraes, and Greenlaw ; his estates were restored, 
 and peace once more reigned. After this he held 
 the Chancellorshij), the highest office in the kingdom. 
 On the 17th September, 1692, a grand Scottish 
 wedding took place at Redbraes ; the waiting years 
 were now over, the old exile life had pas.sed away, 
 a new and brighter existence was about to begin. 
 Of Lady Grisell Baillie's married life, her daughter, 
 Lady Murray of Stanhope, has given a charming 
 picture.^ Not a cloud obscured the sunshine of 
 forty-eight years' wedded bliss, " in all which time I 
 have heard my mother declare that thc)' never had a 
 single quarrel or misunderstanding or dryness betwixt 
 them, not for a moment." " He never went abroad 
 but what she went to the window to look after him, 
 never taking her eyes from him so long as he was in 
 sight." It was truly a lovely and pleasant life. 
 They had both e.vperienced bitterness and sweetness 
 in their sojourn, and knew how to value the triumjjh 
 of faithful love. lUit the best jo>'s must end. The 
 husband was taken first ; he died at Oxford, 6th 
 August, I73«S, and was buried in a jjlace of sepulture 
 at Mellerstain, which three years previously he had 
 ordered to be built. " There was .scarce one that 
 paifl their last fluty to hiin that had not tears in their 
 
 ' " Memoirs of the Lives and Characters of the Kighl lion. George 
 Baillic of Jcrviswood, and of Lady (jriscll 15aillic. '' Kdiled Ijy Thomas 
 Thomson, advocate. rriv.Tlcly printed, 8vo, Ivlin., 1822.
 
 Lady Grisell Baillie. 59 
 
 eyes and heavy hearts ; never man being more beloved 
 nor regretted, nor carried a more unspotted character 
 to the grave." Lady Grisell died in London eight 
 years afterwards, 6th December, 1746, and was laid 
 to rest beside him whom her soul loved on the 25th 
 day of the same month, being the anniversary of her 
 birth. Well might Justice Sir Thomas Burnet 
 inscribe upon their tomb these lines : 
 
 "The pious parents rear'd this hallowed place, 
 A monument for them and for their race. 
 Descendants, be it your successive cares 
 That no degenerate dust ere mix with theirs I " 
 
 Two daughters were left behind — Grisell and Rachel. 
 The former became the wife of Sir Alexander 
 Murray of Stanhope, Bart.; the latter of Charles, 
 Lord Binning, from whom are descended the present 
 families of Haddington and of Baillie of Jerviswood. 
 The following inscription, which is engraved in 
 marble on the left side of the monument to Lady 
 Grisell Baillie at Mellerstain, was written by Sir 
 Thomas Burnet, }-oungcst son of Bishop Burnet, and 
 one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas: —
 
 6o M/XSTKELSV OF THE MeKSK. 
 
 llcic liclli 
 
 TliL- Right Honourable Lady Grisell Baillie, 
 
 wife of George Baillie of Jcrviswood, Esq., 
 
 oldest daughter 
 
 111 the Right nonoiiial)le Patrick, Karl of Marchinunt ; 
 
 a pattern to her se\, an honour to her country. 
 
 She excelled in the characters of a daughter, a wife, a nuither. 
 
 While an infant, 
 
 at the hazard of her own, she preserved her father's life ; 
 
 wliii, under the rigorous persecution of arhitrar)- power, 
 
 sought refuge in the close continenient of a tt)ud), 
 
 where he was nightly supplied with necessaries, conveyetl by her, 
 
 with a caution far above her years, 
 
 a courage almost above her sex ; 
 
 a real instance of the so much celebrated Roman charity. 
 
 .She was a shining example of conjugal aft'ection 
 
 that knew no dissension, felt no decline 
 
 <luring almost a tifty years' union, 
 
 the dissolution of which slie survived from duty, not choice. 
 
 Her conduct as a parent 
 
 was amiable, exemplary, successful, 
 
 to a degree not well to be expressed 
 
 without mixing the praises of the dead with those of the living ; 
 
 who desire that all praise, but of her, should be silent. 
 
 At difterenl times she managed the affairs 
 
 of her father, her husband, her family, her relations, 
 
 with unwearied ajiplicalion, with hap]n' economy, 
 
 as (listant from a\arice as from prodigality. 
 
 ('hrislian J'iety, lo\c of her country, 
 
 zeal for her frientls, compassion for her enemies, 
 
 cheerfulness of spirit, ])leasantness of conversation, 
 
 dignit)' of minil, 
 
 good breeding, good humour, good sense, 
 
 were the daily ornaments of an useful life, 
 
 protracted by Providence to an uncommon length 
 
 f>r the benefit of all who fell within the sphere of her benevolence. 
 
 I'"ull of years, and of gooil works, 
 
 she died on the 6th day of Decend)er, 1746, 
 
 near the end of her 8ist year, 
 
 and was buried on her birthday, the 25th of ilial month.
 
 Lady Grisei.l Bail lie. 6t 
 
 Weren A Mv Heart Liciit. 
 
 There once was a may ' and she lo'ed nae men, 1 
 
 She biggit her bonnie bower doiin in yon glen, 
 But now she cries diile ! and a wcll-a-day, 
 Come doim the green gale, ami cuine here away. 
 
 When bonnie young Jolinnie came f)wre the sea, 
 
 He saitl he saw nothing so lovely as me ; 
 
 He hecht - nie baith rings and mony braw tilings, j 
 
 And werena my heart licht I wad dee. I 
 
 I 
 He had a wee tittie" that lo'eil na me, i 
 
 Because I was twice as bonnie as she ; j 
 
 .She raised sic a pother 'twixt him and his mother, ' 
 
 That werena my heart licht I wad dee. 
 
 The day it was set for the bridal to be, 
 
 The wife took a dwam ^ and lay doun to dee, I 
 
 .She moaned and she groaned wi' fause dolour and I'ain, 
 
 Till he vowed he never would see me again. 
 
 His kin were for ane o' a higher degree, 
 .Said, what had he to do wi' the like o' me ? 
 Albeit I was bonnie I wasna for Johnnie, 
 And werena my heart licht I wad dee. 
 
 They said I had neither cow nor calf, 
 
 Nor dribbles o' drink rins through the draff. 
 
 Nor pickles o' meal rins through the mill c'f. 
 
 And werena my heart licht I wad dee. j 
 
 His tittie she was baith wylie and slee. 
 She spied me as I came ower the lea ; 
 And then she ran in and made sic a <lin, 
 Believe your ain een if ye trow na me. 
 
 His bonnet stood aye fu' round on his broo, 
 
 His auld ane looked aye as well as some's new : 
 
 But now he lets't wear ony gait it will hing. 
 
 And casts himself dowie upon the corn-bing. | 
 
 1 Fair maid. "^ Promised. » Sister. * Fainting-fit,
 
 I 
 
 62 AllXSTRELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 And now he gaes droopin' al)out the dykes, 
 And a' he dare do is to hound the tykes ; 
 The livelang nicht he ne'er steaks an e'e, 
 And werena my heart liclit I wad dee. 
 
 Were I young for thee as I liae been, 
 
 We should liae been gallopin' doun on yon green, 
 
 Or linking it owcr the lily-white lea. 
 
 And wow 'gin I were but young for thee. 
 
 Till: KwF, Bucutin's Bonnie. 
 
 [The followitu two verses lieloii;; to :ui utifiiiislied son;; of Lady Orisell Raillie's. 
 The late Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe i>iil)lishe<l theiu in a sheet, aloni; with an 
 air which his father had composed at an early period of his life. A copy of this, 
 recovered liy Robert Chambers, is entitled Ahxeiwe. Thomas I'linfrle, the 15order 
 l>oet, added several stanzas to tlio oriijinal.] 
 
 O, the ewe-buchtin's l)onnie, baith e'ening and morn, 
 When our blithe shepherds play on the bog-reed and hor.i ; 
 While we're milking, they're lilting, l)aith pleasant and clear — 
 But my heart's like to break when I think on my dear. 
 
 O, the shepherds take pleasure to blow on the horn. 
 To raise up their flocks o' .shee)) soon i' the morn ; 
 On the bonnie green banks they feed pleasant and free. 
 But, alas, my dear henrt, all my sighing's for tht-e ! 
 
 I 

 
 Patrick Hume. 63 
 
 PATRICK HUME. 
 
 Fl. 1695. 
 
 PATRICK HUME, of the house of Pohvarth, a 
 learned commentator on Milton, flourished as 
 a London schoolmaster about the close of the seven- 
 teenth century. In 1695 he edited for Jacob Tonson 
 the sixth edition of Paradise Lost, in folio, with 
 elaborate notes, and is said to have been the first to 
 attempt a system of exhaustive annotation on the 
 work of an Enti^lish poet. On the title-page he styles 
 himself r. H tl)/>.o-o/'/)r^;. Dr. Newton, in his preface 
 to the edition of Paradise Lost, published in 1749, 
 says: "Patrick Hume, as he was the first, so is the most 
 copious annotator. He laid the foundation, but he 
 laid it among infinite heaps of rubbish." Warton, in 
 his " History of English Poetry," refers to Hume's book 
 as "a large and very valuable commentary." Callander, 
 who edited the first book of Paradise Lost in 1750, 
 plagiarised Hume's notes. " These notes," says an 
 anonymous writer, " are always curious ; his obser- 
 vations on some of the finer passages of the poem 
 show a mind deeply smitten with an admiration for 
 the sublime genius of their author, and there is often 
 a masterly nervousness in his style, which is very 
 remarkable for this age." Hume is said to have also 
 written a number of Latin and English poems, but 
 none of these appear to be extant. 
 
 [l""or a spiriled and inteiesling discussion on Hume's edition of 
 ^lilton, see BlackwooiV s Magazine for March, 1819, ji. 658.]
 
 64 Mi.wsTRELsy OF THE Merse. 
 
 EARL OF HADDINGTON. 
 
 1680- 1735. 
 
 ^piIO.MAS HAMILTON, the sixth Larl of 
 X HaddiiiL^ton, was the second son of Charles, 
 the fifth earl, by his wife, Margaret Leslie, Countess 
 of Rothes, and was born 29th August, 1680. 
 According to " Douglas's Peerage " he was a staunch 
 adherent of the Hanoverian famil)', a great promoter 
 of the Union between England and Scotland, and 
 one of the sixteen Scottish noblemen in three British 
 Parliaments. He married his cousin Helen, only 
 daughter of John Hope of Hopetoun, and sister of 
 the first Earl of Hopetoun. He died at Newhailes, 
 28th November, 1735. To his lordship have been 
 ascribed — probably erroneously — a large number of 
 ballads and songs on topics mostly of a licentious 
 description.^ To those to whom the\' are unknown, 
 it may be sufficient to mention that Pinkerton has 
 described their character as "immodest." Rut there 
 is a more praiseworth)' memorial of the Earl's talents. 
 He took a deep interest in the cultivation of forest 
 trees, and was an active and successful improver of 
 his patrimonial estates of Tyninghame and Mcller- 
 stain. His "Trcati.se" on the subject, published many 
 
 ' "Forty Select roems, on several occasions, by the Right Hon. 
 
 the Earl of H n." " T.iles in Verse, for the amusement of leisure 
 
 hours, written by the ingenious Earl of H n." " Monstrous Good 
 
 Things," i2n>o, 1785 (privately printed), etc.
 
 Earl of JIaddisgtox. 6 
 
 
 
 years after his death, remained for long a standard 
 work.^ It is a production that may be read with 
 advantage by all improvers of land, and it establishes 
 one fact of great importance, that the oak, while it is 
 one of the most valuable, is at the same time one of 
 the most easily raised of all trees. 
 
 Lord Haddington is also the author of a political 
 poem on the Union, entitled The Vision, printed in 
 Edinburgh in 1706, irregular in measure, and inferior 
 in merit.- 
 
 ^"Treatise on the manner of raising Forest-trees, Acquaticks, 
 Ever-greens, etc.," i2nio, Kdin., 1756 (and since reprinted). 
 
 - The Vision : a poem liy the Karl of Haddington, 4to, Kdin., 1706.
 
 66 MlXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 LORD BINNING. 
 
 1696-1732. 
 
 r^HARLES HAMILTON, Lord Binning, eldest 
 ^w^ son of Thomas, sixtli Earl of Haddington, 
 was born in 1696. Ver)- little is known of his earl}' 
 life. He served with his father as a volunteer at the 
 battle of Sheriffmuir, 13th November, 1715; married 
 Rachel, )'oungcst daughter, and in process of time 
 sole heiress, of George Baillie of Jer\is\\'ood, and Lady 
 Grisell Baillie; was elected in 1722 M.l'. for St. 
 Gcrmains in Cornwall, and a])pointed Knight 
 Alarischal of Scotlanrl ; died of consum])tion at 
 Naples, 27th December, 1732 [O.S.]. 
 
 W'iiilc still a youth he composed a song entitled 
 III Praise of liiuiliiis, full of self-commendation, and 
 containing some jocular allusions to his father's 
 terror during the Rebellion, at \\hich time, as a 
 matter of fact, his father's \-alour w as particularly con- 
 spicuous. He is allowed to ha\c had fine genius for 
 l)Tic poetry, and this will he amply justified by a 
 perusal of his bt-st known song, Ungrateful Nannie, 
 which appeared original 1}' in the Gentleman's 
 Ma<^arji)ie ff)r 1741. A ballad — Tlte Duke of 
 ArgylTs Levee — of inferior merit, has been erronc- 
 ousl}- ascribed to Lord Binning, it being the 
 production of Jose|)h Mitchell the flramatist. His 
 lordship was murh bclo\-ed foi- liis gentle and
 
 Lord Binning. 67 
 
 amiable disposition, and a quiet courtliness of 
 character and bearing, which drew from Hamilton 
 of Bangour^ the following epitaph on his departed 
 friend : 
 
 '' Beneath this sacred marble ever sleeps, 
 For whom a father, mother, consort weeps. 
 Whom brothers', sisters' pious grief pursue, 
 And children's tears with virtuous drops bedew ; 
 The Loves and Graces grieving round appear, 
 Ev'n Mirth herself becomes a mourner here. 
 The stranger who directs his steps this way 
 Shall witness to thy worth, and wondering say — 
 ' Thy life, though short, can we unhappy call ? 
 Sure thine was blest, for it was social all. 
 O may no hostile hand this place invade. 
 For ever sacred to thy gentle shade ; 
 Who knew in all life's offices to please, 
 Sound taste to virtue, and to virtue, ease ; 
 With riches blest, did not the poor disilain ; 
 Was knowing, humble, friendly, great, humane ; 
 By good men honoured, by the bad approv'd. 
 And loved the Muses, by the Muses loved. 
 Hail and farewell, who bore the gentlest mind. 
 For thou indeed hast been of human -kind ! ' " 
 
 Ungrateful Nannie. 
 Did ever swain a nymph adore 
 
 As I ungrateful Nannie do ? 
 Was ever shepherd's heart so sore? 
 
 Was ever broken heart so true? 
 My cheeks are swell'd with tears ; but she 
 Has never shed a tear for me. 
 
 ^ William Hamilton of Bangour (1704- 1 754) was one of the 
 '■ingenious young gentlemen" who assisted Allan Ramsay with 
 contributions to the 7'ea-Tal>lt' Miscellany, He wrt>te the famous 
 Yarrow ballad beginning " Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie 
 bride," which Words;w(irlh li.T^ praised so higlily.
 
 (>^ MlXSTRF.LSy OF THE Ml-.RSF. 
 
 If Nannie cnllM, did Kohin >lay, 
 Or linger when she bade me run ? 
 
 She only had a word to say, 
 
 And all she ask'd was (|iiickly done. 
 
 I always thought on her ; hut she 
 
 Would ne'er bestow a thought on nie. 
 
 To let her cows my clover taste, 
 I lave I not rose by break of da)- ? 
 
 When did her heifers ever fast, 
 If Rt)bin in his yard hatl hay? 
 
 Though to my fields they welcome were, 
 
 I never welcome was to her. 
 
 If Nannie ever lost a sheep, 
 I cheerfully did give her two ; 
 
 hid not her lambs in safety slecji 
 \\ iihin my folds in frost and snow ? 
 
 Have they not there from cold been free? — 
 
 I'ut Nannie still is cold to me. 
 
 Whene'er I climb'd our orchard trees 
 The ripest fruit was kept for Nan : 
 
 ' >li, how those hands that drown'd her iiees 
 Were stung I I'll ne'er forget the pain : 
 
 .Sweet were the combs as sweet could be ; 
 
 T'ut Nannie ne'er looke<l sweet on me. 
 
 If Nannie to the well did come, 
 'Twas I that did her pitchers fill ; 
 
 J-'ull as they were, 1 brought them honu* ; 
 Her corn I carried to the mill : 
 
 .\Iy back did l^ear her sacks ; but she 
 
 Tould never bear the sight o' me. 
 
 To Nannie's poultry, oats I gave ; 
 
 I'm sure they always had the best ; 
 Within this week her j)igeons have 
 
 I'.al up a peck of peas at least, 
 Jfi-r little pigeons kiss ; but she 
 Would never take a kiss from me.
 
 Lord Bixsixg. 6g 
 
 Must Robin always Nannie woo ? 
 
 And Nannie still on Rohin frown ? 
 Alas, poor wretch ! what shall I do 
 
 If Nannie does not love nic soon ? 
 If no relief to me she'll bring, 
 ril hang me in her apron string. 
 
 Ix Praise ok Emimus. 
 .Some cry up little Ilyndy ^ for lliis thing and for liiat, 
 And others James Dalrymjile, though he be somewhat fat ; 
 Hut of all the pretty gentlemen of whom the town do tell, 
 Emilius, Emilius, he bears away the bell. 
 
 Some cry up Kantin' Rothes, whose face is like the moon, 
 Nor Highlander nor minister can put him out of tune. 
 But of all, etc. 
 
 Some cry up Rinning's father for fcchting at Dunblane, 
 But Binning says it only was for fear of being ta'en. 
 But of all, etc. 
 
 Some cry up Earl Lauderdale, though he be grim and black, 
 lor at the Ixittle of Sheriffmuir he never turned his back. 
 But of all, etc. 
 
 Some cry up pretty PoKvarth for his appearance great, 
 Eor wi' his Orange regiment the rebels he defeat. 
 l!ut of all, etc. 
 
 Some cry up the Laird o' Grant, "cause lie came foremost in ; 
 And others wee Balgony for nothing but his chin. 
 But of all, etc. 
 
 Some cry up our great general - for managing the war, 
 Though at the battle o' Dunblane he ])Ushed the foe too far. 
 But of all, etc. 
 
 I have no >kill in politics, therefore I ham! my tongue ; 
 
 But ye'll thinl< I liae gab enougli, though I be somewhat young. 
 
 But ril tell you a secret, my fairy Binning elf, 
 
 Emilius, Emilius. I swear it is yourself! 
 
 ' Earl of llyndford. liritish Ambassador at .St. Petershurjr. 
 -Mohii, Duke ol Ar^'\ll,
 
 70 MixsTRELsy OF THE Merse. 
 
 ROBERT CRAWFORD. 
 1700-1733. 
 
 ROBERT CRAWFORD wa.s the second son of 
 Patrick Crawford, a merchant in Edinburgh, 
 who was the third son of Da\id Crawford, sixth laird 
 of Drumsoy. Patrick Crawford purchased the estate 
 of Auchinames in 17 15, as well as that of Drumsoy 
 about 1 73 1, which explains the statement of Burns 
 that the son Robert was of the house of Auchinames. 
 Of Robert Crawford's career very little is known. 
 He passed a number of years in France, and was 
 drowned when returning from that country in 1733. 
 He assisted Allan Ramsay in his Tea - Tabic 
 Misai/anj, contributing a number of charming lyrics, 
 of which several have attained a wide popularity. 
 *' The true muse of native pastoral," says Allan 
 Cunningham, "seeks not to adorn herself with 
 unnatural ornaments : her spirit is in homely love 
 and fireside joy ; tender and simple, like the religion 
 of the land, she utters nothing out of keeping with 
 the character of her jjeople and the aspect of the 
 soil ; and of this spirit, and of this feeling, Crawford 
 is a large partaker." The following are the best 
 known of Robert Crawford's productions : — The 
 Broom d the Cou'denkiioives ; Twcedside. (It is 
 stated that when the first Lady Gri.sell liaillie sang 
 this song she generally drew tears from her audience.)
 
 Robert Crawford. 71 
 
 The Bush abooii Traquair ; My Dearie, if Thou Dee ; 
 The Rose in Yarroiv; d>.nd Leader Haiighs and Yarroiv, 
 
 Leader IIauuhs and \akro\v. 
 The morn was fair, safl was the air, 
 
 All Nature's sweets were springing ; 
 Then buds did l)ow with silver dew, 
 
 Ten thousand birds were singing ; 
 When on the bent ^ with blythe content, 
 
 Voung Jamie sang his marrow ; - 
 No bonnier lass e'er trod the grass 
 
 On Leader llaughs and Yarrow. 
 
 How sweet her face, where every grace 
 
 In heavenly beauty's planted ! 
 Her smiling een and comely niein, 
 
 That no perfection wanted. 
 I'll never fret nor bann my fate. 
 
 But bless my bonnie marrow ; 
 If her dear smile my doubts beguile. 
 
 My mind shall ken no sorrow. 
 
 \'et though she's fair, and has full share 
 
 Of every charm enchanting, 
 Each good turns ill, and soon will kill 
 
 roor me, if love be wanting. 
 O, bonnie lass ! have but the grace 
 
 To think e'er ye gae further. 
 Your joys maun flit if ye commit 
 
 The crying sin of murder. 
 
 My wand'ring ghaist will ne'er get rest, 
 
 And day and night affright ye ; 
 But if ye're kind, with joyful mind, 
 
 I'll study to tlelight ye. 
 Our years around, with love thus crowned, 
 
 From all things joy shall borrow ; 
 Thus none shall be more blest than we, 
 
 On Leader llaughs and Yarrow. 
 
 ' Pasture-land. - Mate.
 
 MlXSTRELSV or THE MeKSE. 
 
 O, sweetest Sue I 'lis only yo\i 
 
 Can make life worth my \\i>]ics, 
 If equal love your mind can move, 
 
 To grant this best of blisses. 
 Thou art my sun, and thy least fmw n 
 
 Would blast mc in the blossom ; 
 Bui if thou shine and make me thine, 
 
 I'll flourish in thy bosom. 
 
 Co\vr)EXKNOwi:>. 
 
 \Vhcn summer conies, the swains on Tweed 
 
 Sing their successful loves ; 
 Around the yowes the lambkins feed, 
 
 And music fdls the groves. 
 
 But my loved song is tlicn the broom, 
 
 So fair on Cowdenknowcs ; 
 For sure so sweet, so soft a bloom 
 
 Elsewhere there never growes I 
 
 There Colin tuned his ailen reed. 
 
 And won my yielding heart ; 
 No shcjiherd e'er that dwelt on Tweed 
 
 Could i)lay with half such art. 
 
 lie sung of Tay, of Forth, of Clyde, 
 
 The hills and dales around, 
 Of Leader-haughs and Leader-side ; 
 
 Oh, how I blessed the sound I 
 
 Vet more delightful is the Ijroom, 
 
 .So fair on Cowdenknowes ; 
 For sure so fresh, so fair a bloom. 
 
 Elsewhere ihcic never growes. 
 
 Not Teviot braes, so green and gay, 
 May with this broom compare ; 
 
 Not ^'arrow's banks in (low'ry May, 
 Nor the Bush aboon Traquair.
 
 J\!o/JERT CkAWJOKD. /J 
 
 More pleasing far arc Cowdcnknowcs, 
 
 My peaceful, liapjiy Ixniic, 
 W here I was woiil to milk my yowcs> 
 
 Al even, among the broom. 
 
 \c powers tlial haiinl liic wuuds and plain- 
 
 Wlicrc Tweed with Teviot flows; 
 Convey me to the best of swains, 
 
 And my loved Cowdenknowes !
 
 74 Ml.\STR£LSy OF THE MeRSM. 
 
 JAMKS GRAL\GER, M.D. 
 1723-1766. 
 
 THE town of Dun.s has been the birth-place of a 
 number of distint^uished Scotchmen, and amonc]^ 
 them \vc desire to include here the name of James 
 Grainc^er. He was the son, by a second marriage, 
 of James Grainc^cr, Esq., formerly of Houghton Hall, 
 Cumberland, but who from some unfortunate mining 
 speculations, and his attachment to the House of 
 Stuart in 171 5, liad been obliged to sell his estate and 
 accept of an appointment in the ICxcise. Born in 
 1723, young Grainger grew u|) into a gentle and 
 lovable boy, attended for a time the parish school, 
 but on the death <jf his father was sent to an 
 academy at North Berwick. He then studied for 
 three years in the medical classes at lulinburgh, and 
 was apprenticed to Mr. George Lauder, a surgeon 
 in that city. Naturally clever, he rose quickly in 
 his prtjfession, and during the " '45 " acted as surgeon 
 to General Pulteneys Regiment of Foot, serving in 
 the same capacity under the Earl of Stair in Germany 
 during the l^^uropean wars. At the peace of Aix- 
 la-Chapclle in 1748 he quitted the army, made a 
 tour of Europe, and returned to Scotland. On 13th 
 March, 1753, he graduated M.D. at his old college, 
 and journeying south, settlcfl in T^cjndon as a 
 jjhysician. In the metropolis he met and as.so- 
 ciatcd with the leading literary men of the day,
 
 James Grainger. M.D. 75 
 
 and was on intimate terms with Shenstonc. Dr. 
 Johnson, Bishop Percy, Glover, Armstrong, Smollett, 
 Dodsley, Goldsmith, and Sir Joshua Reynolds. His 
 medical practice was not a success, and he had 
 to support himself mainly through writing. In 
 1755 lie published in " Dodsley's Collection," Vol. 
 IV., his well-known Ode io Solitude, which at once 
 brought him into repute. In the first part are 
 many passages in which the author manifests great 
 power in depicting the sublime and beautiful in 
 Nature. From May, 1756, to May, 1758, he wrote 
 articles on poetry, the drama, and physic in the Monthly 
 Review and other journals. In 1759 he published in 
 two volumes a " Poetical Translation of the PLlegies 
 of Tibullus, and of the Poems of Sulpicia." In the 
 same year he began a four years' tour with a former 
 pujiil, John Bourryau, who was heir to some property 
 in the West Indies. On the voyage thither Grainger 
 prescribed successfully for a lady who had been 
 attacked with small-pox. She was the widow of a 
 Nevis planter, and on arrival at his destination he 
 married her daughter. Miss Daniel Mathews Burt. 
 Her brother was Governor of the island of St. 
 Christopher, and through this lucky alliance Dr. 
 Grainger soon succeeded in establishing a large and 
 lucrative practice. In 1764 he i)ublished a lengths- 
 didactic poem in four books, entitled The Culture of 
 the Sugar-Cane, a successful imitation of Milton's 
 L' Allegro and // Pcnscroso, which was honoured 
 with the highest praise. The " Notes " to this poem 
 he in the same year expanded into an " Essay on the
 
 70 MlXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 more Common West India Diseases." lie died at 
 liassetterre of fever F6th December, 1766. 
 
 The personal, as well as the literar\-, character of 
 Dr. Grainger appears to have stood high in the 
 estimation of W\>, intimate friends. " He was not 
 only," says Dr. Percy, "a man of genius and learning, 
 but had man\- excellent virtues, being one of the 
 most generous, friendh", and benevolent men I ever 
 knew : " and Dr. Johnson with more brevity but 
 (>erhaps with equal comprehensiveness, sa}s that " he 
 was an agreeable man who would do any good 
 that was in his power." Grainger bequeathed iiis 
 MSS. to his friend Percy, and, in accordance with his 
 wish, a complete edition of his )Joetical works was 
 in 1798 suggested to Dr. Robert Anderson, who 
 published the same, with a life of the author, in 
 1836.^ Most of the copies were destroyed, and the 
 work is now extremely scarce. It contains, among 
 other nn"scellancous pieces, the fragment of a blank 
 verse tragedy entitled The Fate of Capua. 
 
 Krom Ode to Soi.Jirni;. 
 
 O Soliuidc, romantic niairl I 
 
 Whctlicr hy nodding towers you tread, 
 
 Or havnit the desert's trackless gloom, 
 
 Or hover o'er the yawning tonil), 
 
 r>r climb the Andes' clifted side, 
 
 Or hy the Nile's coy source abide. 
 
 Or, starting from your half-year's sleep, 
 
 From Hccla view the thawing deep, 
 
 ' *• Poetical Works of James (Irainger, M.T)., with Memoirs of his 
 Life and Writings," by Robert Anderson. M.lJ. 2 vols., 8vo. Kdin., 
 1X36.
 
 James Graiw.kr^ A/.J>. 77 
 
 Or, al ihe purple dawn of day, 
 Tadmor's niarlile wastes survey, 
 ^'()U, recluse, again I woo, 
 And again your steps pursue. 
 
 Illumed Conceit himself surveying, 
 I'lilly with lu-r shadow playing, 
 i'urse-prouil, elbowing Insolence, 
 Bloated empiric, puffed i'retence, 
 \oise that through a trumpet speaks. 
 Laughter in loud peals that lireaks, 
 Intrusion with a fopling's face, 
 Ignorant of time and place, 
 Sparks of fire Dissension blow ing, 
 Ductile, court-bred Flattery bowing. 
 Restraint's siiff neck, Grimace's leer, 
 Si|uint-eyed Censure's artful sneer. 
 Ambition's liuskins, steeped in blood, 
 I'ly thy jiresence. Solitude. 
 
 Sage Reflection, bent with years, 
 Conscious \'irtue, void of fears. 
 Muffled Silence, wood-nympli sliy, 
 Meditation's piercing eye, 
 Halcyon I'eace on moss reclinetl. 
 Retrospect that scans the mind. 
 Wrapt earth-gazing Reverie, 
 Blushing, artless Modesty, 
 Health that snuffs the morning air. 
 Full-eyed Truth with jjosom bare. 
 Inspiration, Nature's rliild. 
 Seek the solitary wild. 
 
 Darkness clappeil her sal)le wing, 
 While you louchetl the mournful string 
 Anguish left the pathless wild, 
 ('irim-f;aced Melancholy smiled, 
 Drowsy Midnight ceased to yawn, 
 The starry host put liack the dawn ;
 
 78 MiXSTRELSV OF THE MkRSE. 
 
 Aside their harps even seraphs flung, 
 
 To hear thy sweet complaint, O Young ! ' 
 
 When all Nature's hushed asleep. 
 
 Nor Love nor Guilt their vigils keep. 
 
 Soft you leave your caverned den. 
 
 And wander o'er the works of men ; 
 
 But wlien I'hosphor Jirings the dawn, 
 
 By her dappled coursers drawn, 
 
 Again you to the wild retreat, 
 
 And the early huntsman meet. 
 
 Where, as you pensive pace along. 
 
 You catch the distant shepherd's song. 
 
 Or brush from herbs the pearly dew. 
 
 Or the rising primrose view. 
 
 Devotion lends her heaven-plumed wings, 
 
 \'t>u mount, and Nature with you sings. 
 
 But when mid-day fervours glow, 
 
 To upland airy shades you go, 
 
 Where never sunburnt woodman came. 
 
 Nor sjiortsman chased the timid game ; 
 
 And there beneath an oak reclined, 
 
 With drowsy waterfalls beliind. 
 
 You sink to rest. 
 Till the tuneful bird of night 
 From the neiglibouring poplar's liciglu, 
 XYake you with her solemn strain, 
 And teach pleased Echo to complain. 
 
 \Yith you roses brighter bloom, 
 Sweeter every sweet perfume ; 
 I'urer every fountain flows. 
 Stronger every wildling grows. 
 Let those toil for gold who please, 
 Or for fame renounce their ease. 
 What is fame? — an empty bubble, 
 (lolil? — a transient shining trouble. 
 Let them for their country bleed, 
 What was Sydney's— Raleigh's— meed ?
 
 James Grainger, M.D. 79 
 
 Man's not worth a moment's pain, 
 Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain. 
 Then let me, sequestered fair, 
 To your sibyl grot repair ; 
 On yon hanging cliff it stands. 
 Scooped by Nature's salvage hantis, 
 IJosomed in the gloomy shade 
 Of cypress not with age decayed. 
 Where the owl still hooting sits, 
 Where the bat incessant flits. 
 There in loftier strains I'll sing, 
 Whence the changing seasons spring ; 
 Tell how storms deform the skies. 
 Whence the waves subside and rise, 
 Trace the comet's blazing tail. 
 Weigh the planets in a scale ; 
 Bend, great God, before Thy shrine, 
 The bournless microcosm's Thine. 
 
 Bryan and Pereene. 
 
 [A West Indian ballad, founded on an incident whicli occurred in the island ot 
 St. Christopher, contributed to the first volume of Percy's " Reliques."J 
 
 The north-cast wind did liriskly blow. 
 
 The ship was safely moor'd, 
 \'oung Bryan thought the boat's crew slow, 
 
 And so leap'd overboard. 
 
 J'ereene, the pride of Indian dames. 
 
 His heart did long enthral ; 
 And whoso his impatience l)lames, 
 
 I wot ne'er loved at all. 
 
 A long, long year, one month and day, 
 
 lie dwelt on Knglish land. 
 Nor once in thought would ever stray, 
 
 Though ladies sought his hand
 
 So J/^/xsruBLSv OF riii: Merse. 
 
 For Bryan he was tall and strong, 
 Ritjht blillicsouie rull'd his een ; 
 
 Sweet was his voice when'er he sung, 
 He scant had t\Nenty seen. 
 
 I'm will) ilie coiuulcss cliarnis can (haw, 
 That gracM lii> niistre>s tiiie? 
 
 Such charms tlie old world never saw, 
 Nor (ift, I ween, the new. 
 
 Her raven hair jilays round her neck. 
 
 Like tendrils of the vine ; 
 Her cheeks red dewy rosebuds deck, 
 
 Her eyes like diamonds shine. 
 
 Soon as his well-known ship she spied, 
 
 She cast her weeds away, 
 And to the palmy shore she hied, 
 
 All in her UcnI array. 
 
 In sea-green silk so neatly clad. 
 She there impatient stood ; 
 
 The crew with wonder saw the lad, 
 Repel the foaming llood. 
 
 Her hands a handkerchief disi)lay'd. 
 Which he at parting gave ; 
 
 Well pleas'd, the token he survey'd. 
 And manlier beat the wave. 
 
 Her fair companions one and all. 
 Rejoicing crowd the strand ; 
 
 lor now her lover swam in call, 
 And almost touch'd the land. 
 
 Then through the white surf did she haste, 
 To clasji her lovely swain ; 
 
 Wh(fn, ah I a shark bit through his waist ; 
 Hi- heart'> blood liv'd thi- main I
 
 James Grmxger^ .]f.n. 8i 
 
 He shriek'd, his half sprung from the wave, 
 
 Streaming with purple gore ; 
 And soon it found a living grave, 
 
 And, ah I was seen no more. 
 
 Now haste, now haste, yc maich, I pray, 
 
 Fetch water from the spring : 
 She falls, she swoons, she dies away, 
 
 And soon her knell they ring. 
 
 Now each May morning round her tomb. 
 
 Ye Fair, fresh flow'rets strew. 
 So may your lovers 'scape his doom, 
 
 Her hapless fate 'scape you.
 
 82 MrXSTKELSV OF THE MeRSE, 
 
 RALPH ERSKINE. 
 
 1685-1752. 
 
 THE leaders of the first secession movement from 
 the Church of Scotland — Ebenezer and Ralph 
 Erskine — were intimately connected with the count}' 
 of Berwick. Ihcir father was the Rev. Henry 
 Erskine, for many years minister of Chirnside, and 
 himself a Merse man, sprung from the old families 
 of Shielfield and Dryburgh. Ralph Erskine was 
 born at Monilaws, near Cornhill, on the 15th March, 
 1685. He studied at Edinburgh University, was 
 licensed to preach the Gospel in 1709, and ordained 
 to the second charge of the parish of Dunfermline in 
 171 1, being translated to the first charge in 17 16. 
 He took an active part in the Marrow controversy, 
 and in the controversy regarding Patronage. In 
 1737 he seceded from the Church of Scotland and 
 joined the Associate Presbytery. He died 6th 
 November, 1752. 
 
 He was the author of a large number of sermons, 
 many of which were published during his lifetime, 
 but it is by his "Gospel Sonnets" and "Scripture 
 Songs " that he is now best remembered. The 
 whole of his works were published in two large folio 
 volumes at Glasgow in 1764- 1766, and have since 
 been frequently re-printed. 
 
 '* His silver tongue did living truth impart, 
 With raised hanfl fit emblem of his heart ; 
 He saw, he felt, he sung redeeming love, 
 Death called him home, he tunes his harp above."
 
 .5/ A- JOIIS SWINTON. 83 
 
 SIR JOHN SWINTON.i 
 i624(?)-i679. 
 
 SIR JOHN SWINTON, son of Sir Alexander 
 Swinton of Swinton, was a man of ereat 
 ability and varied fortunes. He warmly espoused 
 the cause of the Society of Friends, and wrote in 
 vindication of their views several learned and elaborate 
 treatises both in prose and verse. Here is a specimen : 
 " England's Warning, or a friendly admonition to 
 the rulers thereof to beware of persecuting the 
 Righteous for yielding obedience to the law of God," 
 etc., 4to, London, 1664. Beginning thus: 
 
 " O foolish nation, void of grace 
 
 And understanding true, 
 The cruel acts that thou hast made, 
 
 Thou niaist have time to rue I 
 Dost think thy peace doth stand in this — 
 
 To persecute the poor, 
 And eke the meek that fear the Lord, 
 
 And do His Name implore ? " 
 
 it continues in a similar strain throughout one 
 hundred and five stanzas. The following are also 
 in defence of the Quaker movement : — " A Testi- 
 mony for the Lord, by John Swinton, to all the \\-orld 
 to whom these shall come, greeting," 6 pp., no date ; 
 " The Spirit of Alexander the Coppersmith, lately 
 revived, now justly rebuked," 1673 ; "One W^arning 
 more to the Hypocrites of this generation." Several 
 MSS. of Swinton's are preserved in the library of the 
 Society of Friends at London, 
 
 ' See "The Swintons of that Ilk," p. 73.
 
 §4 .^f/.VSTJ^£LSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 LORD SWINTON.^ 
 1 722- 1 799. 
 
 JOHN SWINTON of Swinton. eldest son of 
 John Swinton and Mary Semple, was destined 
 to have a distinguished judicial career. He 
 was called to the Bar in 1743 ; appointed Sheriff of 
 Perthshire in 1754; raised to the Bench as Lord 
 Swinton in 1782 ; and died in 1799. To his pen is 
 generally attributed An Elegy inscribed to the Duke of 
 Cumberland, in avowed imitation of Milton's Lycidas, 
 4to, Edin., 1746. The subject is the rumoured death 
 at the battle of Falkirk of the author's friend, 
 Colonel Thornton. The piece, it must be confessed, 
 loses much of its pathos when, in the course of it, 
 the "awful genius of the British Isles" reveals to the 
 l)oet that the hero whom he was lamenting, instead 
 of having fallen in the battle, had escaped unhurt 
 from the field. After this revelation the principal 
 motive of the elegy seems to be the loyal effusion 
 with which it concludes : 
 
 " Behold a hero of a warlike lino, 
 
 His fame already floats along the Rhine, 
 
 His youthful valour Gaul hath seen with fear, 
 
 And, seeking respite, stirs sedition here ; 
 
 lie soon rebellion's children will dismay, 
 
 And scatter all their glory far away ; 
 
 Confound their councils, turn their joy to shame, 
 
 And ever)' tongue shall echo William's name." 
 
 1 See "The Swintons of that Ilk," p. 96.
 
 J/a'.v. Johx Hunter. 85 
 
 MRS. JOHN IIUNTKR. 
 
 1742-1821. 
 
 ANNE HOME, born in 1742, was the eldest 
 daughter of Robert Boyne Home, surgeon, 
 Greenlaw. She was a sister of the celebrated Sir 
 Everad Hoirie [1753-1832], and also of Robert Home, 
 the painter [d. 1836], descended from the Homes of 
 Greenlaw Castle. In Jul}', 1771, she became the 
 w^ife of John Hunter, the anatomist, and during the 
 lifetime of her distinguished husband, received at her 
 house in London the most eminent literary and 
 scientific personages of the da}\ Dr. Hunter died in 
 1793, and after this event his widow sought a life of 
 retirement, giving herself over to literary pursuits, 
 especially the writing of verse, which she composed 
 with wonderful facility and grace. She died of a 
 lingering illness on the 7th June, 1821, leaving a .son 
 and daughter — the former a major in the army, and 
 the latter the wife of General Campbell, son of Sir 
 James Campbell of Inverneil. 
 
 In 1802 Mrs. Hunter published a collection of her 
 poems dedicated to her son, John Banks Hunter.^ 
 In a modest note to the reader she says : " The 
 very favourable reception which has for some years 
 been given to lyric poetry, whether ancient or modern, 
 induces me to offer this small volume to the public, 
 
 1 " Toems by Mrs. Hunter," Lond., i2mo, 1802. T. Payne. 2nd 
 edition, 1803. [Now a scarce volume]
 
 S6 M/XSTKELSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 consisting chiefly of odes, ballads, and songs, and I 
 have been further encouraged to take this step by 
 the success which has attended some of the latter 
 description of composition, already well known to the 
 musical world.^ My little book will, I hope, escape 
 the censure of being tedious ; what other merit it 
 ma)' have besides its brevity, and whether its contents 
 will bear to be read as well as to be siing^ my readers 
 must now be left to judge for themselves." The 
 book contains a number of poems addressed to her 
 son when at school, at college, and in the army ; 
 Carisbrookc Ctxstlc, a historical poem in twenty-two 
 stanzas ; several old English ballads, and many 
 beautiful songs. Several of Mrs. Hunter's composi- 
 tions have had a deserved popularity, and have been 
 wedded to inspiring music by the illustrious Haydn, 
 with whom she was on terms of much intimacy. 
 When in London in 1791-93 the great composer was 
 a frequent and honoured guest at her house. 
 
 There is a certain irresistible charm in the poetry 
 of this fair singer — a sweetness and homeliness of 
 expression which at once will rivet the attention, and 
 touch a chord of sympathy in the heart of every reader. 
 One who knew her well thus writes : " She possessed 
 [)cr.sonal attractions of the highest order. Into what- 
 ever assembly she entered, the delicacy of her face, 
 with the commanding grace of her person, gave her 
 a peculiar air of distinction, and seldom failed to 
 
 ' She refers here to tho.se compositions which were set to mii.sic by 
 Ilayhi ■.— The Indian Dcatli-Soni^ ; The SpiriCs Song ; Queen Afar/s 
 f.niiienl, etc.
 
 AIks. John Hunter. 87 
 
 attract attention. But she never ascribed to her own 
 merit the notice she received in society. Feeling 
 herself the wife of a celebrated man, she was fond of 
 imputing the attention she received to the influence 
 of his character, doing injustice to herself from a 
 generous pride of owing everything to him, and she 
 never appeared so much gratified by attention as 
 when she supposed it was shown to her for his sake." 
 
 The Lamentation of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. 
 
 I sigh and lament me in vain, 
 These walls can but echo my moan ; 
 
 Alas ! it increases my pain, 
 
 To think of the days that are gone. 
 
 Through the grate of my prison I see 
 
 The birds as they wanton in air ; 
 My heart, how it pants to be free, 
 
 My looks they are wild with despair. 
 
 Ve roofs, where cold damps and tlismay 
 
 With silence and solitude dwell ; 
 How comfortless passes the day, 
 
 How sad tolls the evening bell ! 
 
 The owls from the battlements cry, 
 
 Hollow winds seem to murmur around, 
 
 "O Mary, prepare thee to die !" 
 My blood it runs cold at the sound. 
 
 Unchang'd by the rigours of fate, 
 
 I burn with contempt for my foes ; 
 Though fortune has clouded my state. 
 
 This hope shall enlighten its close. 
 
 False woman I in ages to come 
 
 Thy malice detested shall be : 
 And when we are cold in the tomb 
 
 The heart still shall sorrow for me.
 
 SS MlXSTRELHY Of THE MeRSE. 
 
 The r'AUEWEi.L. 
 ?"ar from hope, nnd lost to pleasure, 
 
 Haste away to war's alarms ! 
 Sad I leave my soul's dear treasure, 
 
 For the dismal din of arms. 
 
 But, ah ! for thee I follow gloiy. 
 To gain thy love I dare to die ; 
 
 And when my comrades tell my story, 
 Thou shall lament mc with a sigh. 
 
 All my griefs will then be over, 
 Sunk in death's eternal rest ; 
 
 Vou may regret a faithful lover, 
 
 Though you refuse to make him blessM 
 
 Bestow a tear of kind compassion, 
 To grace a hapless soldier's tomb ; 
 
 And, ah ! forgive a fatal passion. 
 Which reason could not overcome. 
 
 My Mother Bids Me Binu My Hair. 
 My mother bids me bind my hair 
 
 \Vith bands of rosy hue. 
 Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare. 
 And lace my boddice blue. 
 
 For why, she cries, sit still and weej), 
 While others dance and play ? 
 
 Alas ! I scarce can go or creep 
 While Lubin is away. 
 
 'Tis sad to think the days are gone 
 When those we love were near ; 
 
 I sit upon this mossy stone 
 And sigh when none can hear. 
 
 And while I spin my flaxen thread 
 
 And sing my simjilc lay. 
 The village seems asleep, or dead, 
 
 Now Lubin is away.
 
 J/a\v. Joh.\ Hunter. 89 | 
 
 I 
 The Dkaiii-Son(; of ihk Ciiekokek Indian. j 
 
 The sun sets in nij^'lit, and the stars slum the day, | 
 
 But glory remains when their lights fade away, | 
 
 Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, I 
 For the son of Alknomouk will never coiiijilain. 
 
 Kemendjer the arrows he shot from his bow ; 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low. 
 Why so slow ? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain ? 
 No ! the son of Alknomook shall never comjjlain. 
 
 Remember tlie wood where in amlnish we lay. 
 And the scalps which we bore from your nation away. 
 Now the flame rises fast ; ye exult in my pain ; 
 But the son of Alknomook can never complain. 
 
 I go to tlie land wliere my father is gone ; ' 
 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son. ] 
 
 Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain ; ! 
 
 And thy son, O Alknomook, has scorn'd to complain 1 
 
 The Lot ok Thousands. 
 
 When hope lies dead within the heart. 
 By secret sorrow close concealed, 
 
 We shrink, lest looks or words imjjart 
 What must not be revealed. 
 
 'Tis hard to smile when one would wee]) ; 
 
 To speak when one would silent Ijc ; 
 To wake when one would wish to sleep, 
 
 And wake to agony. 
 
 Vet such the lot of tliousands cast, 
 W'ho wander in this world of care, 
 
 And bend beneath the bitter blast. 
 To save them from despair. 
 
 But Nature waits her guests to greet, 
 Where disappointment cannot come ; 
 
 And time guides with unerring feet 
 Tlie weary wanderers home.
 
 9° M/XSTRRLSV OF THE ^^ERSE. 
 
 The Si'iRri"s Song. 
 
 Hark u li.it I tell to tlico, 
 Nor sorrow o'er tlie tomb, 
 
 My spirit wanders free, 
 
 And waits till thine shall come. 
 
 All pensive and alone, 
 I see thee sit and weep, 
 
 Thy head upon the stone 
 Where my cold ashes sleep. 
 
 I watch thy speaking eyes. 
 And mark each precious tear ; 
 
 I catch thy jiarting sighs, 
 Ere they are lost in air. 
 
 The Flowers of the Forest. 
 
 Adieu ! ye streams that smoothly glide 
 Through mazy windings o'er the i)lain ; 
 
 ril in some lonely cave reside, 
 And ever mourn my faithful swain. 
 
 Flower of tlic forest was my love, 
 Soft as the sighing summer's gale ; 
 
 Gentle and constant as the dove. 
 Blooming as roses in the vale. 
 
 Alas ! by Tweed my love did stray. 
 For me he searched the banks around : 
 
 But, ah ! the sad and fatal day, 
 
 My love, the pride of swains, was drown'd. 
 
 Now droops the willow o'er the stream ; 
 
 I'ale stalks his ghost in yonder grove ; 
 Dire fancy paints him in my dream ; 
 
 Awake, I mourn my hopeless love.
 
 Daiid Stvaki- Erskim-:^ Eakl of Buchax. 91 
 
 DAVID STUART ERSKINE, Earl of Buchan. 
 
 1742-1829. 
 
 DAVID STUART ERSKINE, eleventh Earl 
 of Buchan, was born 12th June, 1742, and 
 died 19th April, 1829. His immediate connection 
 with the county of Berwick dates from his purchase, 
 in 1786, of the estate of Dryburgh, which had pre- 
 viously belonged to his ancestors. A man of strong 
 antiquarian tendencies, and a zealous patriot, with a 
 keen sense for the beautiful and romantic in Nature, 
 he began at Dryburgh that labour of love which 
 consisted in restoring the more ruined portions of 
 the venerable pile, and gradually changing its sur- 
 roundings — always pleasant — into a scene of almost 
 ideal sylvan loveliness. It is to the artistic and 
 historic, though, it must be confessed, somewhat 
 eccentric, conceptions of this worthy laird that 
 Dryburgh to a large extent owes the attractiveness 
 which it has for the modern tourist. Eor the old 
 Earl has tried to enshrine in the woods and hills of 
 his beautiful home, and by the banks of " Tweed's 
 fair river," many of his country's sweetest memories 
 and most cherished traditions. On the wooded 
 eminence in front is a colossal statue of Sir William 
 Wallace,^ 
 
 ' The monument was erected on 22nd September, 1814, tlie anni- 
 versary of the victory of Stirling Bridge in 1297. It is formed of red 
 sandstone, from the same cpiarry wliich fiirnislicd the materials for the
 
 92 MiXSTKELSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 •• '1 he jjccrlcsb knighl of Lllorslic, 
 AVho waved on Ayr's romantic shore 
 The beamy torch of liberty ; " 
 
 while close b\- the river's brink is the deserted 
 
 Temple of the Muses, dedicated by this Scottish 
 
 Maecenas to the sons of Border song. Dryburgh 
 
 has ever been a classical region — the centre of much 
 
 of Scotland's history and the inspiration of much of 
 
 her literature — and because of this the Earl of 
 
 Buchan desired to perj:)etuate here the memory of 
 
 such associations. 
 
 He was himself a dabbler both in prose and verse, 
 
 and made many contributions to the periodical 
 
 literature of his day. He wrote a large number of 
 
 Abbey buildini,'. The statue is 22i feet high, and was designed by 
 Mr. John Smith uf Darnick, from a supposed authentic portrait of tlic 
 great hero. He is represented in the ancient .Scottish (partially 
 Roman) dress, and armour, with a shield hanging from his left hand, 
 and grasping with his right a huge spear in vertical position. On the 
 pedestal is the following inscription : — 
 
 " KRECTF.l) I;Y DAVIU STUART ERSKINE, 
 EARL OK BUCHAN. 
 
 WALLACE, 
 
 (J R E A T r A T K I O T II E R O ! 
 
 ILL REilUITED CHIEI'! 
 
 A.I). MDCCCXIV." 
 
 In front of the monument, and standing on a cluster of rocky boulders, 
 
 is a large urn on which are inscribed the following lines : — 
 
 " Erected to the memory of Wallace, 
 
 ' The i:eerle88 kniirht of Ellerslie, 
 Who waved on Avi's i-omantic shore 
 The heaiiiy torch of liberty, 
 And roamed around from sea to sea. 
 From fjlade olmcure or gloomy rook 
 His hold fompatriots called to free 
 The realm from P^lward's iron yoke.' "
 
 David Stuart Ekskixic, Earl o/-' IJuchax. 93 
 
 essays and treatises on various subjects, chiefl)- 
 antiquarian, and these are nearly all preserved in 
 the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of 
 Scotland, of which he was the founder. In con- 
 junction with Dr. Walter Minto he compiled an 
 " Account of the Life, Writings, and Inventions of 
 Xapier of Merchiston " (4to, Perth, 1787); and an 
 essay from his pen on " The Lives and Waitings of 
 Fletcher of Saltoun and James Thomson" (1792), 
 received a fair recognition. " The Anonymous and 
 Fugitive Essays of the Earl of Buchan, collected 
 from various periodical works," were reprinted at 
 Edinburgh in 18 12, but never got beyond the first 
 volume. 
 
 Lord Buchan had a large correspondence with 
 literary and scientific men throughout the world, and 
 it may be interesting to recall the fact that it was 
 mainly at Robert Burns's suggestion that the 
 Wallace statue was erected. To him also Burns sent 
 his Address to the Shade of Thotnson in September, 
 1 79 1, when he could not be present at the annual 
 gathering which his lordship had instituted at Ednam, 
 the poet's birthplace. Scots IVha I/ae, again, received 
 its inspiration from the loyal-hearted Earl, and Burns 
 wrote in the following terms — " If my little ode has 
 your lordship's approbation, it will gratify my highest 
 ambition." 
 
 Of the Earl of Buchan a large number of anecdotes 
 are still related. Let one suffice us. It is with 
 reference, not to the eccentricities of his life, but to 
 an incident which occurred at his burial. He was
 
 94 MlXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 interred in that part of Dryburgh Abbey called St. 
 Modan's Chapel. The apartment lies lengthways 
 from cast to west, and is very narrow. In accordance 
 with the Christian method of sepulture the feet end 
 of the coffin should have been carried into the vault 
 first. Sir David Brewster and Sir Walter Scott were 
 both present at the funeral. Brewster was the first to 
 notice the error of bringing in the head of the coffin 
 first, and he said, " We have brought the Earl's head 
 in the wrong way." Scott replied by saying, " Never 
 mind, his lordship's head was turned before he died, 
 and it's not worth our while to shift it now." ^ 
 
 ' For a full account of the Earl of Huchan see Kay's " Edinburgh 
 Portraits;" Erskine's "Annals and Anlifiuities of Dryburgh;'' 
 Anderson's "Scottish Nation," etc., etc.
 
 S//C Dai'w Erskine. 95 
 
 SIR DAVID ERSKINE. 
 
 1772-1837. 
 
 DAVID ERSKINE, a natural son of the eleventh 
 Earl of Buchan, was born in 1772. In earh' 
 life he bore a captain's commission in the 31st Eoot, 
 and belonged also to the York Rangers. On the 
 reduction of the 31st Regiment he was appointed to a 
 professorship in the Royal Military College at Sand- 
 hurst. The Earl of Munster was there placed under 
 his tuition, as well as several members of William IV.'s 
 family, and at their request Erskine received the 
 honour of knighthood, nth September, 1830. His 
 father, dying in 1829, bequeathed to him for life the 
 whole of his unentailed estates, and he settled 
 down at Dryburgh. On 17th November, 1798, he 
 had married his cousin, Elizabeth, second daughter 
 of Thomas, Lord Erskine, and after her death, on 
 2nd August, 1800, he married a Miss Ellis. Sir 
 David Erskine was one of the earliest Fellows of 
 the Scottish Society of Antiquaries ; a director of 
 the Royal Academy at Edinburgh ; and one of the 
 founders of the Scottish Military and Naval Academ}'. 
 He died 22nd October, 1837, aged sixty-five. 
 
 His reputation as a poet lies chiefly in his dramatic 
 productions, of which he wrote a large number during 
 his residence on Tweedside. They are characterised 
 by splendid descriptive power, and give indication of
 
 96 AJ/XSTRELSr OF THE AJf.RSF.. 
 
 decided genius. The following is a list of those 
 which have been published : 
 
 " King James I. of Scollaiul, a Tingedy in Five Acts." Kelso, 1827. 
 " King James II. of Scotland, an Historical Drama in Five Acts." 
 
 Kelso, 1S28. 
 "Mary Queen of Scots; or, Melrose in Ancient Times During the 
 
 Last of the Abbots." Edin., 1829. 
 "James V.; or, the Warlike Days of Ilalj o' Hawick." Edin., 1830. 
 "James III.; or, the Feudal Times of Konrade of Ro.xburghshirc." 
 
 Edin., 1 83 1. 
 " Dry burgh Abbey Three Hundred Years Ago; or, the Nun o' Nen- 
 
 thorn." Edin., 1S31. 
 "Airy-form; or, Ghosts from Nature." Kelso, 1825. 
 " Dr. Love among the Roses." Kelso, 1827. 
 
 Besides these Sir David Erskine compiled the 
 "Annals and Antiquities of Diyburgh and other 
 IMaces on the Tweed" (Kelso, 1828; 2nd edition, 
 1836), and wrote a number of lyrical compositions.
 
 James Parkir. 97 
 
 JAMKS BAR R IK. 
 
 1 75 3- 1 829. 
 
 BECAUSE James Barrie, "the Earl of Buchan's 
 own poet-laureate," as Sir Walter Scott dubbed 
 him, was so well known in the south-west of Berwick- 
 shire he is i^iven a place in this collection. A native 
 of the parish of Spott, in East Lothian, he earl}' 
 remo\-ed, along" with his widowed mother, to Dron- 
 shiel, in the parish of Longformacus, and thence- 
 forward his life was entirely spent in the county. He 
 became a wright in Langton, and in a few years started 
 on his own account in Hume, from which he removed 
 to Gordon, and final!}- to Bemersyde, at that time a 
 considerable village. In 1786 he married Janet 
 Johnston of Hume, and b}' her had a family of 
 thirteen children, all of whom died during the life- 
 time of their parents. In later years Barrie suffered 
 much from a rheumatic affection, and, chiefly through 
 the kindness of Lord Buchan, the Haigs of Bemer- 
 -syde, and the Scotts of Mertoun, a small " fog-house " 
 was erected near the statue of Wallace, and the 
 local " laureate " apjiointed custodian. Here he sold 
 souvenirs of the district, spruce beer, and copies of 
 his poems, till his death on 26th June, 1829. 
 
 Barrie's poems do not rise above mcdiocrit}-. They 
 are the quaint and simple effusions of an unlettered 
 rustic, more careful, perhaps, of the rhyme than the 
 
 G
 
 98 Ml.XSTRELSr OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 reason, but the spirit of the rh}-mster is honest and 
 manh', pious and patriotic. The following were 
 issued by Barric during his stay at Bemersyde : 
 
 " Poems for the Use of Children," 74 pp., 180S. 
 
 "Poems on Various Subjects," l8mo, Kelso, 1^15,' and enlarged 
 
 edition, 1824. 
 "New Collection of Poems," i2mo, Kelso, 1819. 
 "Riverside Poems,"' i2mo, Kelso, 1821. 
 
 ' It is only fair to state that the Kelso edition of 1815 contains several poems 
 which it is more tlian likely are not the work of Barrie, eji., " Lines Addressed to 
 the Earl of Buc-han on his Erecting' a Colossal Statue of Wallace ; " "On the Earl of 
 Buchan's Birthday, 1815 ; " and that the whole of Andrew Scott's ininiitahle ballad 
 "Synion and Janet" has been incorporated with corrections and additions that 
 too plainly disclose their ori^rin.
 
 // 7/. /./.;.!/ DunGF.os\ 99 
 
 WILLIAM I)UDGl«:ON. 
 
 ALTHOL'GH born in the neighbouring county 
 of East Lothian, Wilh'am Dudgeon spent the 
 greater part of his Hfe in Berwickshire, and may 
 fittingly rank among its song-writers. He received 
 a Hberal education at his native village of Tynning- 
 hame, and this, combined with strong natural talent, 
 soon brought him much local repute. He became pro- 
 ficient in many branches of learning, and especialh- 
 excelled in mathematics. One of his school-fellows was 
 Sir John Rennie, the celebrated engineer, and Gibson, 
 their teacher at a more advanced school in Dunbar, 
 considered these two the best pupils of his scholastic 
 career. Dudgeon was placed b\' his father in a farm 
 near Duns, upon a lease of thirty }-ears. The farm 
 was extensive, and a large proporfion of it in a state 
 of nature. It received the sweet-sounding name of 
 Primro.se Hill, and Dudgeon lived to improve it to 
 a very high degree. He died 28th October, 181 3, 
 and was buried in the churchyard of Prestonkirk. 
 
 Burns, during his Border tour in I\la\', 1787. met 
 Dudgeon at Berrywell, the residence of the father of 
 his friend Robert Ainslie,* who was factor to the 
 
 ^ Robert Ainslie, AY.S., the friend and corresjiondent of Burns, was 
 
 l>orn ijtli January, 1766, at Berrywell, near Duns. In 17S7 he 
 formed the ac(iuainlance of ]iurns in Edinburgh, and in May of tlie 
 same year he made an excursion with the poet in Teviotdale and
 
 lOO MiXSTKELSV OF THE Af/CRSK. 
 
 Karl of Douglas. The ploughman-[)oet has thus 
 recorded his impressions of this farmer-poet of the 
 Merse : — " A ]\Ir. Dudgeon, a poet at times, a worth)-, 
 remarkable character, natural penetration, a great 
 deal of information, some genius, and extreme 
 modest}'." A relative supplies the additional infor- 
 mation that he was " a man of weakl}- frame of bod)-, 
 but of liberal and enlarged capacit}-. a poet, a writer 
 of .sermons, a first-rate performer on the violin, and 
 could use tolerably well the graving tool, and last 
 and greatest of all, a temperate and well-conducted 
 person.*" 
 
 As a poet Dudgeon is remembered mainU' 
 through one song. He wrote a number of l}'rics, 
 man}' of which remain unpublished, but T/tc Maid 
 that tends the Goats is the only one \\hich appears 
 to have secured a wide {jublicity. It is a sweet 
 pa.storal, full of the charm of country life and the 
 trustful tenderness of maiden \n\c. The air is Gaelic. 
 Xian donit nau gobharr 
 
 Berwick.shire. Burns stayed some days at Berrywell. A sister of 
 Ainslie whom Iiiirns met on this occasion was tlie subject of the im- 
 promptu in Duns Kirk, " Fair maid, you need not take the hint," etc. 
 liobert Ainslie wrote two books on religious themes, "A Father's 
 (lift to his Children," and "Reasons for the Hope that is in Us," a 
 Christian evidence treatise ; and he contributed frequently to the 
 Ediuhiiri^h Ma^a:.iue :^x\<\ other periodicals. lie was on intimate terms 
 with the Ettrick .Shei)herd and Christopher North. Fourteen letters 
 of Hums to Ainslie are inclu'led in the poet's corresjiondence. Accord- 
 inp: to .Mr. \V. Scott Douglas (" Works of Ikirns," II., l88), the frag- 
 mentary ballad, " RoViin shure in Ilairst," refers to a juvenile amour 
 of.\ins1ic. He died nth April, 1838. 
 - See Eraser's " Highland Melodies."
 
 IV/LLIAM DUDGEOX. lOI 
 
 The Maid iiiat tends the Goats. 
 
 Up amang yon clifiy rocks 
 Sweetly rings the rising echo 
 To the maid that tends the goats, 
 Lilting o'er her native notes, 
 Mark, she sings, young Sandy's kind 
 And has jironiised aye to lo'e me ; 
 Here's a brooch I ne'er shall tine 
 Till he's fairly married to me ; 
 Drive awa, ye drone, time. 
 And bring about our bridal day. 
 
 Sandy herds a flock o' sheep ; 
 Aften does he blaw the whistle 
 In a strain so saftly sweet, 
 Lammies list'ning darena bleat ; 
 He's as fleet's the mountain roe, 
 Hardy as the Highland heather, 
 Wading through the winter snow, 
 Keeping aye his flocks thegether ; 
 But a plaid, wi' bare houghs, 
 He braves the bleakest norlan" blast. 
 
 Brawly can he dance and sing 
 
 Cantie glee or Highland cronach ; 
 
 Nane can ever match his fling 
 
 At a reel, or round a ring. 
 
 Wightly can he wield a rung ; 
 
 In a brawl he's aye the bangster, 
 
 A' his praise can ne'er be sung 
 
 By the langest-winded sangster. 
 
 Sangs that sing o' Sandy 
 
 Seem short, though they were e'er so lang. 
 
 XOTi".— See "National Choir." \'ol. I., p. 247, for music.
 
 \02 M/XSJRKLSV OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 REV. JAMES GRAY. 
 1 770- 1 830. 
 
 I.AMES GRAY, a \ery remarkable Berwickshire 
 man, was born in Duns about the year 1770, in 
 which town his father was a shoemaker. He 
 received the usual village school education, and was 
 thereafter sent to Edinburgh to study " the classics," 
 a jjhrase used in those da}'s with no little pride. 
 The }-oung student must have a])plied himself 
 with the utmost diligence to this task, for we soon 
 find liim apj^ointed to the mastership of the High 
 School at Dumfries, at that time a notable institution. 
 In 1801 he became classical master in the Hitjfh 
 School at Edinburgh, but resigned in 1822, aggrieved 
 that he did not receive the rectorship on the promo- 
 tion to the Greek chair of i\fr. Dunbar, also a Ber- 
 wickshire man. He then became rector in l^clfast 
 Academy, and distinguished himself by a series of 
 essays on the Greek drama. This was his favourite 
 subject, and he had few ri\als. While in Ireland a 
 new development sprung up in his life. He suddenly 
 became animated with the missionary spirit, and, 
 taking holy orders in the P^piscopal communion, 
 embarked in 1826 for India as a chaplain in the 
 l*^ast India Company's service. He was stationed at 
 Bhuj, in Cutch, and was aj^pointed tutor to a young 
 native prince, being tJie first Christian so honoured.
 
 Rev. James Gn.w. 103 
 
 He died there 25th September, 1830, deeply deplored 
 by a large circle of friends, both English and Indian. 
 
 While in Dumfries Gray was the companion of 
 Robert Burns, the poet's boys being also his pupils, 
 and in after life he was the friend of Thomas 
 Campbell, Professor Wilson, and James Hogg, whose 
 sister-in-law, Mary Philips, he married. The Ettrick 
 Shepherd, who had a high opinion of Gray's genius, 
 his kindliness and large-heartedness, introduced him 
 in The Qiieeiis Wake as the fifteenth bard, who sang 
 the ballad of King Edivarcfs Dream. Hogg thus 
 writes of him : " He was a man of genius, but his 
 genius was that of a meteor, it wanted steadying. 
 A kinder or more disinterested heart than his never 
 beat in a human bosom." 
 
 Gra}' published anonymousl)' " Cona ; or, the Vale 
 of Clwyd, and other poems," Mn 18 14, and a second 
 edition, with the author's name, in 18 16. He was the 
 author also of a very pleasing rhapsody entitled, 
 " A Sabbath among the Mountains," - full of beautiful 
 pictures in the choicest language, and fit to stand 
 alongside other well-known compositions of a like 
 nature. He edited the poems of his once boon com- 
 panion, Robert Fergusson, with a life of the poet and 
 remarks on his genius and writings.-^ He employed 
 much of his Indian life in translating the New 
 
 ' The volume contains in acUlition lo Cona, which is a long historical 
 poem in four Ijooks, a second epic in three parts entitled Minotisiaviiiia, 
 dealing mainly with religious and social themes. i2mo, London. 
 
 - 8vo, Edin., 1823, 1825. 
 
 " i2mo, Edin., 1821.
 
 I04 AJiySTRELSY OF THE J/e/^SE. 
 
 Testament, and a large portion of his work was 
 printed at Bombay in 1834. He left in MS. an 
 epic on India, which is said to have been pubHshed 
 in America. | 
 
 i 
 From "A Sahbath amo.nc. tup: Mountains." \ 
 
 fTranscribed from the copy which belonfjert to the poet Southe.v, presented 
 
 to him by the author. 1 I 
 
 1 
 
 In .simple garb the children are in view, 
 
 In Sabljath brightness, fresh as morning dew, 
 
 And fondly circle nnind the father's knee 
 
 Like clustering roses, beautiful to see, , 
 
 And musically murmur at the task . 
 
 That Scottish parents of their children ask. j 
 
 'Tis from the sacred volume that they read j 
 
 Words that to heaven their tender spirits lead, 
 
 That book of which the knowledge is the pride, 
 
 Their youth's companion and their manhood's guide ; ^ 
 
 The book they read in childhood's sunny hour, 
 
 That they shall read when age's clouds .shall lower — . 
 
 When knees are fcel)le, and when locks are grey. 
 
 Eyes dim, and life is fading fast away ; ,! 
 
 The book that did their youthful hearts inspire I 
 
 .Shall lend life's dying lani]:) a kindly fire. 
 
 Dear to my .spirit, .Scotland, hast thou been 
 
 Since infant years in all thy glens of green ; 
 
 Land of my love, where every sound and sight 
 
 Comes in soft melody, or melts in light. \ 
 
 Land of the greenwood l)y the silver rill, ; 
 
 The heather and the daisy on the hill, j 
 
 The guardian thistle to thy foemen stern, i 
 
 The wild-rose, hawthorn, and the lady-fern. I 
 
 Land of the lark, that like a seraph sings 
 
 Beyond the rainbow upon fjuivering wings. ' 
 
 Land of wild beauty and romantic .shapes 'i 
 
 Of sheltered valleys, and of stormy capes ; I 
 
 'I 
 41
 
 Rei. /ames Gray 105 
 
 Of the brij^hl garden and the tangled brake, 
 
 Of the dark mountain and the sun-lit lake ; 
 
 Land of my birth and of my father's grave ; 
 
 The eagle's home, the eyrie of the brave ; 
 
 Land of affection and of native worth ; 
 
 Land where my bones shall mingle with the eartli ; 
 
 The foot of slave thy heather never stain'd, 
 
 Nor rocks that battlement thy sons profan'd ; 
 
 Unrivalled land of science and of arts ; 
 
 Land of fair faces and of faithful hearts ; 
 
 Land where religion paves her heavenward road ; 
 
 Land of the temple of the living God ! 
 
 ^'et dear to feeling, Scotland, as thou art, 
 
 Should thou that glorious temj)le e'er desert, 
 
 I would disclaim thee, seek the distant sliore 
 
 Of Christian isle, and thence return no more. 
 
 Love. 
 
 Life were a wilderness of wrath, 
 A viper's den, a field of death, 
 Had Nature not devised the plan 
 IJy love to tame the savage man, 
 
 "Tis love inspires the lay in spring 
 That all the woodland warblers sing ; 
 And when the hour of love is o'er, 
 The forest song is heard no more. 
 
 Let tongue of inspiration speak 
 The blush that paints the maiden cheek. 
 The tear that trembles in the eye 
 When love exalts to ecstasy. 
 
 Oh I could I paint thee in my verse, 
 Thou sun that gild'st the universe. 
 On high that light'st the angels' road, 
 And blazest round the throne of God !
 
 I06 MiySTRELSV OF THE AIeRSE. 
 
 Vor III. 
 
 In boyhood's sweet and sunny vale 
 No tear of anguish dims the eye, 
 
 The streams of pleasure never fail, 
 Joy's silver fountains never dry. 
 
 The simplest l)ud that gems the hill, 
 The daisies in the waste that rise, 
 
 By naked rock or scanty rill, 
 .\re fair as flowers of Paradise. 
 
 No sorrow shades the light of soul, 
 Bright as the sun of summer day. 
 Nor like the ocean's billows roll, 
 - To sweep the slirine of bliss away. 
 
 Slill, as new sport to sport succeeds, 
 How lightly springs the elastic mind, 
 
 .\s after happiness it speeds. 
 
 Nor disapiinintnient fears to fnid.
 
 ll'jLL/AM CkaII^. 107 
 
 WILLIAM CRAW. 
 1771-1816. 
 
 " T~\IED at A}T, William Craw, mason, a native 
 JL>' of Chirnside, in the Merse." So we read in 
 the obituary column of an Ayrshire newspaper for the 
 year 18 16. William Craw (or, as the name is some- 
 times written, Croiv) was the son of Ralph Craw, 
 a weaver in Chirnside, and a noted Cameronian, 
 while his grandfather, William Craw, was an eccentric 
 character, who had been long a resident in Chirnside, 
 and probably a descendant of an old Border family 
 whose original seat was Auchincraw.'^ His wife, 
 Madeline, had the reputation of being a witch, because, 
 we suppose, she was ahead of her age in real intelli- 
 gence. William Craw, the second, left Chirnside about 
 the year 1 792, and coming to the town of Ayr, found 
 employment at his trade of mason in the building 
 of the "New Brig'" immortalised by Burns in his 
 well-known poem. In 1796 he was " pre.ss-ganged " 
 
 ' Aiichincravv or iVucliencrow , locally iironounced Edencraw, a 
 lumdel in the parish of Coldingham, and a [ilace of great anti<iuity, 
 had a widespread reputation during last century for its frecjuent witch- 
 burnings. Auchencrow seems to have been the centre of the witch 
 conniuinity in the county, and has given rise to the sayings — 
 
 " In the town o' Auchiiicraw, 
 Where the witches bide a'.'' 
 and — 
 
 " You're like the witch wives o' Aui'Iniiemw, 
 You ^^et niair for your ill than for your good." 
 
 That is, an individual is sometimes granted a favour for fear u{ his 
 malevolence, or to get rid of his iiiqiortunit)-.
 
 lo8 M/NSTRELSy OF THE A/eA'SE. 
 
 and served for a time in a man-of-war. .As a sailor 
 he met with many adventures ; he was present at 
 the battle of Camperdown, and in the fleet that 
 mutinied at the Nore. He never took the oath to 
 remain a sailor, and when an opportunity presented 
 itself, he deserted his ship and steered his course 
 northwards. At that time, so great was the demand 
 for seamen, that men were placed upon the public 
 roads near Edinburgh to intercept sailors going to or 
 leaving the capital. One of these parties encountered 
 William Craw. When asked of what trade he was, he 
 replied " a stone-cutter," but his querists made answer 
 that " his hands smelt too strongly of tar for such a 
 trade," and lugged him off on board ship again. 
 About the year 1800 he managed to get rid of the 
 miseries of a seafaring life, and returned to Ayr, 
 where he married, wrought at his trade, died In i<Si6, 
 and was buried in the old church)'ard. 
 
 Now, there is nothing remarkable in all this, but 
 our story is not }-ct fully told. This William Craw, 
 as it will be seen, was far from being an ordinar)- 
 man, and he has left behind him ample evidence of 
 ingcniousness, perseverance, and carefulness that well 
 entitles his name t(j a niche in the local Temple of 
 l^^ame. He was a clever mathematician and draughts- 
 man, a fair linguist, and a bit of a ])oet. One of 
 his volumes now lies before us. It is entitled 77ie 
 Parisians, and comprises six books, "giving an 
 accurate description of the French Revolution and 
 the .storming of the Bastilc."^ Other fragments in 
 
 ' Kilmarnock, 8vo, 1815. Crawford.
 
 JV/LL/AA/ Ch'.iir. 109 
 
 the l)ook arc 77/r /(>//)' Sa?lois and 'J7ic Dying Sai/or. 
 He is also the author often " J'oetical ICpistles"^ and 
 of " The Naval Journal" — a record (jf na\al engage- 
 ments concluding with Camperdown.- 
 
 When full consideration, therefore, has been given 
 to William Craw's worldh' position as a common 
 sailor, and to the fact that nearly all his mathematical 
 treatises and a great many of his poetical addresses 
 were written on board ship, during the intervals of 
 hard toil, it w ill at once be conceded that here was a 
 man of no ordinar\' abilities, who might well have 
 taken, but for the untoward circumstances of his 
 earl}' manhood and his all too premature death, a 
 high place amongst those whose life-work has been 
 a ceaseless contribution to the intellectual wellbeing 
 of the world. 
 
 ^ " I'oetical Epistles," 8vo, Kilmarnock, 1809. Crawford. I'dur 
 of the epistles are addressed to tjaviii Dalziel, the poet ; one to Joseph 
 Train, the anticjuary, and the remainder to others. 
 
 . < k 
 
 The Banks of the Hudson" — a poetical descrijilion of life in North 
 Canada, appears also to have been the work of Craw.
 
 no M/XSTRELSV OF THE MeKSF. 
 
 ALEXANDER BROWN. 
 
 (" BerzvicksJiire Sandier ) 
 
 1775-1834. 
 
 ALEXANDER BROWN was the son of William 
 Brown and Alarion Nesbit, and was born in 
 1775 at Thimbleha', a small farm near Spottiswood, 
 in the parish of W'estruthcr, which was tenanted 
 by his father. He served an apprenticeship to the 
 mason trade, after which he tauijht a side-school 
 kept up by the farmers and others at Cambridge, 
 a hamlet in the district. Then he removed to 
 Glasgow, where he wrought for one of his brothers, 
 who was a contractor for canals and bridges. After 
 living for a short period in Edinburgh, he died in 
 1834. His father appears to have been a man 
 of some intelligence, for he too taught a class of 
 young lads during the winter. His brothers were 
 also men of an intellectual vein, one of them, William, 
 being a teacher of languages in T^alkirk, Dunkcld, 
 and latterly in Edinburgh. The mother, again, 
 came of an intellectual famil}', and one of her near 
 relatives, John Nesbit, a merchant in Lcith, wrote 
 several commendable poems. The following from 
 his pen is copied from the United Secession Magazine 
 for November, 1835. It is apparentl\- a retrospect of 
 his carl)' da)'s at Greenlaw.
 
 AlEXAXDEU BrOWX. Ill 
 
 My Nativk Vai.k. 
 
 Again I tread my native vale 
 
 Wiiere flowers are blooming wilil, 
 And l^rcathe once more the vernal gale 
 
 That fanned me when a child. 
 
 And yonder is the aged tree, 
 
 Still verdant in decay, 
 Round which, when from the school set free, 
 
 I went at eve to play. 
 
 ]5ut, ah ! my lonely native cot 
 
 Has vanished from the scene ; 
 A heap of ruins marks the spot 
 
 To tell where it hath been. 
 
 Its rude remains are covered o'er 
 
 With weeds and grassy sod ; 
 And lambs are sporting on the floor 
 
 My infant footsteps trod. 
 
 My early friends, in deep decay, 
 
 Are slumbering in the grave. 
 And o'er the sod that wraps their clay 
 
 The lovely wild-flowers wave. 
 
 And, oh I ere many years pass by 
 
 They'll also bloom o'er me, 
 When I shall unrememberecl lie 
 
 In Death's captivity. 
 
 Alexander Brown published, at Edinburgh, in 1801, 
 8vo, a selection of his poetical musings under the 
 title, " Poems : Mostly in the Scottish Dialect ; b\' 
 BerwicksJiire Sandie." This \'olume is now extremel)' 
 rare. Perhaps Brown's most popular song is the one 
 which follows — T/ic Eagle Troop — written during the 
 " false alarm " period, and sung with great gusto at 
 various county gatherings.
 
 112 M/XSTKELSV OF THE AFeRSR. 
 
 Thf, Kaglk Tkoot. 
 
 Besouth the hills o' Lanimermoor, 
 The farmers, lairds, an' a' that, 
 I lae formed a band o' yeomen true, 
 The Eagle Troop they ca' that. 
 A' that an' a' that. 
 
 Our country's cause an" a' that. 
 
 .■^hall Britons cower an' yield their ris;hts ? 
 
 No I — mortal never saw that. 
 
 In days o' y(jre, when lang-legged Ned 
 .Strode ower the Tweed, an' a' that. 
 To rob our lairds, to burn our towers, 
 T' enslave our .sires an' a' that. 
 A' that an' a' that, 
 Ding down our kirks an' a' that ; 
 The Border lads their mettle shawM 
 And prov'd it was no law that. 
 
 The trusty sons o' Berwickshire, , 
 
 Aye loyal, brave, an' a' that, j 
 
 Again resolve to say "stand yonl "' ' 
 
 To French and Dane an' a' lliat. ( 
 
 A' tliat an'a' that, 
 
 \Vi' glittering sword an' a' that ; j 
 
 See Spottiswood ^ riding at their head, 
 
 W'i' helmet, crest, an' a' that. 
 
 \ 
 
 On S plain yc may rejoice, i 
 
 i'aith young an" auld, an' a' that ; 
 
 \our landlord will your right supj>ort, 
 
 The S * ♦ * * bless an' a" that. 
 
 .\' that an' a' that, 
 
 I 
 An' mony more than a' that ; , 
 
 Let them wha thocht to coup the .State 
 
 Gae hide their heads frac a' that. J 
 
 The late John Sjjottiswood, Esf|., of Spottinwood.
 
 Ai.EXAxnER Browx. 113 
 
 W liu'ii IJritain ca's lier faithfu' sons 
 To run to arms an' a' that, 
 Whole legions to the standard Hock 
 In Caledonia yet. 
 
 A' that an" a' that, 
 
 Their ancient fame an' a' that ; 
 
 A braver than the Eagle Troop 
 
 Auld Scotland never saw yet. 
 
 ( )ur king may keep liis mind at ease, 
 Laugh at his foes an' a' that, 
 His kingdom's safe — his throne secure, 
 While ilk ane mauna fa' that. 
 A" that an' a' that, 
 
 There's Louis too, an' a' that, 
 
 I'uir man ! oblig'd to beg his bread 
 
 In foreign lands an' a' that. 
 
 Let Bonaparte through Britain peep, 
 He'll see her sons for a' that, 
 Like hearts of oak, unite and keep 
 Her frae his grasp an' a' that. 
 A' that an' a' that. 
 
 Our wooden walls an' a' that ; 
 
 If he come here, we'll break his crown. 
 
 An' send him hame to claw that. 
 
 H
 
 114 AfjXSTRELSV OF THE Mf.RSE. 
 
 ALEXANDER HEWIT. 
 1778-1850. 
 LEXANDER HEWIT — "a Berwickshire 
 
 A LE 
 i\ P 
 
 Moughman " — was born at Lintlaw/ in the 
 parish of Bunkle, in the year 1778. He and his 
 twin brother James were the youngest of the family 
 of Andrew Hewit and Mary Burk. The two boys 
 were early sent to the school at Lintlaw, where they 
 received the greater part of their education. Arriving 
 at manhood in the troublous times at the beginning 
 of the century, James enlisted in the navy, and was 
 shot while assisting to quell a mutiny on board his 
 warship. Alexander followed agricultural pursuits 
 for a time, until he also enlisted in the Hopetoun 
 Fencibles, in which regiment he served for six years. 
 At the conclusion of the French war he returned to 
 his native county, and lived for several years in the 
 parish of Ayton, where he married. Then he re- 
 moved to the adjoining parish of Coldingham, where 
 we find him as ploughman on several of the surround- 
 ing farms. In 1834 he became tenant of the farm 
 of North Fallyknowe, where he died in 1850. His 
 poems were published at Berwick in 1807, while he 
 was ploughman at Cairncross.- They consist of two 
 
 ' At Lintlaw, it may be interesting to note, was born in 1735 the 
 celebrated medical theorist, Dr. John Browne, author of the system 
 called from him the Brunonian system. 
 
 - " I'oems on various subjects, chiefly .Scottish, Ity Alexander 
 Ilcwit — 'a Berwickshire Ploughman,'" 8vo, Berwick, 1807.
 
 Alexander Hew it. i 1 5 
 
 parts — religious and secular — the latter, in native 
 Doric, being particularly pleasing. Perhaps the best 
 known of Hewit's local ballads is one entitled 
 William and Madeline, which may here tell its 
 own tale " 
 
 William and Madeline. 
 [See Dr. Henderson's "Popular Rhymes of Berwickshire," p. 109. ] 
 
 Black night was clad in darkest gloom, 
 
 And a' was fast asleep, 
 When Madeline lay by Willie's side 
 
 In meditation deep. 
 A voice at last assail'd her ear, 
 
 Wi' eldritch croon it cry'd ; 
 Three times she heard the awful roar, 
 
 But not a thing she spy'd. 
 " O Madeline, hearken to my voice : 
 
 The morn is a great day, 
 At Norham is a sacrament. 
 
 An' you maun gang that way." 
 Though we into digression fa', 
 
 'Tis proper here to show 
 The voice that reached poor Madeline's ear 
 
 Was only from below. 
 Some lads an' lasses, fu' o' glee, 
 
 Crap close to Madeline's wa'. 
 An' frae beneath the window board 
 
 Gae her the kindly ca'. 
 She thought it was some angel guid 
 
 That her sic warning gae, 
 She dunsh't on Willie, wakening him, 
 
 And unto him did say : 
 "O Willie, lad, I got a ca' 
 
 When you were fast asleep, 
 So I a vow hae made this nicht. 
 
 An' I that vow maun keep. 
 The morn there's a sacrament 
 
 At Norham — have a care 
 To do my bidden, an' be good. 
 
 For we maun baith be there."
 
 Il6 Af/XST/iELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 lie promised fair, sync drt)\vsy sleeji 
 
 Did weigh their eyelids down, 
 An' pleasant dreams that soiisie nicht 
 
 Did a' their wishes crown. . . . 
 Aurora now began to deck 
 
 The morning clear and fair ; 
 The cock frae hint the hallin wa" 
 
 Did clap his wings and roar. 
 Up Willie rose, an' Madeline neisl, 
 
 And, wlien they supped iheir brose, 
 T.a]i on the mare aboon the sunks. 
 
 Which off for Xorham goes. 
 Wi' heartsome cracks upon the road 
 
 They on their journey drew. 
 Till Ladykirk and Norham tower 
 
 Stood fairly in their view. 
 Hut westlin winds had raised the flood, 
 
 For Tweed ran wide and strong ; 
 Ked was the water, black the clouds. 
 
 An' boats were gaen ding-dong. 
 Noljody durst the water ride, 
 
 But Willie without fear 
 Spurr'd down the brae, syne to the guts 
 
 Plunged in the reckless mare. 
 Now fear and dread seized Willie's breast, 
 
 Mis tongue on Madeline fell : 
 '' Ve said ye got a ca' last nicht — 
 
 It's been a ca' frae hell." 
 The right hand rein in rage he drew, 
 
 And, backward, gained the .shore, 
 .Sync hame in speed wi' full design 
 
 To mind sir calls no more.
 
 /o/rx RosERrso.\. 117 
 
 JOHN ROBERTSON. 
 
 1 779- 1 83 1 (?). 
 
 THP^ author of "The W'addin" lJa\- and other 
 Poems " — a small volume published at Edin- 
 burgh in 1824, is described on the title page as 
 " John Robertson, a native of Berwickshire." Born 
 at Oldhamstocks on 4th March, 1779, of parents 
 " without rank or possessions, but of respectability 
 according to the place they held in society," he 
 quitted his native village in his fourteenth year, 
 made his way to Glasgow, where he learned the 
 weaving trade, and married in 1801. In 181 5 he 
 removed to a weaving factory at Dunbar, where, in 
 the space of se\-en years, he tells us, he lost his wife 
 and four children. He died there several years later. 
 " The Waddin' Day " is a characteristically Scotch 
 production, full of homely incidents, and breathing a 
 spirit of fervent piety in the recollection of past 
 scenes and former days. 
 
 TiiK Lassie isv r.iE Water Side. 
 (Tune — " O wat ye wha I met yestreen ? ") 
 O, ken ye where I was yon day ? 
 My dearest lassie was wi' me, 
 She w'as so comely, sweet, and gay, 
 
 The blythesome blink was in her e'e. 
 We wandered east that day and wast, 
 
 Wi' her I wandered far and w ide, 
 Hut few sic days yet e'er I passed 
 As that was on the water side. 
 
 Then first we gaed out uwer the glen. 
 
 The fields had a' a pleasing hue ; 
 I sat doun wi' my bonnie hen, 
 
 Amang tlie heatlier bells so blue.
 
 Il8 MlXSTKELSV OF THE J/eKSE. 
 
 W'c were a while, syne ran our ways, 
 As blythe as she had been my l:)ride ; 
 
 Then we cam' doun to yuntlcr braes 
 That lie upon the water side. 
 
 An' there we were awhile on them, 
 
 Where flocks they feed, and lambkins play ; 
 Then set our face towards our hame 
 
 The e'ening o' that simmer's day. 
 An" as we cam' alang the plain, 
 
 Near by the fields and meadow wide. 
 How pleasant this to be our lane 
 
 That nifjht upon the water side. 
 
 Then we sat doun awhile again, 
 
 The birds sang sweetly as we gaed 
 Upon the grass baith soft and green, 
 
 An' rowed us in her tartan plaid. 
 Then said to her, my only dear, 
 
 What wad ye think to be my Ijride ; 
 While now our lane, come tell me here 
 
 This night upon the water side. 
 
 An' lang I held her hand in mine. 
 
 But still no answer did she gie ; 
 Although a lassie sweet and fine, 
 
 .She blythesome was that day, and free. 
 Hut e'en was bashfu' here, and ta'en, 
 
 .She blushed, an' tried her face to hide ; 
 I took fareweel until again 
 
 We meet upon the water side. 
 
 O' days like this I Jiad Init few, 
 
 She was so comely, neat, and clean ; 
 1 ler goun was o' the silken blue 
 
 Wi' ribbon o' the tartan green. 
 Whene'er I think on her I smile, 
 
 An' though she ne'er should be my Ijride. 
 I'll nf» forget that night this while 
 
 I wooed her on the water side.
 
 Thomas Dickson. ' 119 
 
 THOMAS DICKSON. 
 
 1785-1857. 
 
 THOMAS DICKSON was for many years 
 schoolmaster of Chirnside, and a man of wide 
 knowledge, great kind-heartedness, and deep piety. 
 His poetry is mainly of a religious type, and generally 
 in the form of hymn or paraphrase. He published 
 in 1834, at Berwick, a small volume bearing the title, 
 " Hymns and Paraphrases,"^ from which the following 
 is selected. He died 31st March, 1857. 
 
 "LovEST Thou Me?" 
 
 Oh ! if I love not Thee, 
 
 What can attract my love ? 
 For Thou art all on earth to me, 
 
 All in the heaven above. 
 The rays that cheer this dark abode 
 All eman.^te from Thee, my God. 
 
 A mother's tender love, 
 
 A father's ceaseless care, 
 All charities flow from above, 
 
 And are unsullied there : 
 To creatures, Lord, I'd grateful be, 
 But look beyond them all to Thee. 
 
 Surpassing love, tliat brought 
 
 The Saviour from on high ! 
 Love far exceeding every thought, 
 
 That He for man should die. 
 Oh ! may the love of Christ constrain, 
 To burn in love to Him again. 
 
 ^ Reprinted and enlarged, 1839, Svo, pp. 108.
 
 i:;o AfjxsTKELsv of the Mekse. 
 
 Lord, \\ I lovL- not Thee, 
 What can deserve my love? 
 
 For Thou art all on earth to me, 
 All in the heaven above : 
 
 Each ray that cheers this dark abode, 
 
 I'roceeds alone from Thee, niv God.
 
 James Saxdeksox. 121 
 
 JAMES SANDERSON. 
 
 i;8cS-i86i. 
 
 JAMES SANDERSON, only son of John Sander- 
 son and Ann Haig, was born at Earlston in 
 November, 1788. He received a very limited 
 education, and at an earl)- age began life at the 
 loom. Earlston in those days was a weaving centre 
 of much repute. Its ginghams, through the marvel- 
 lous tact and industry of the Misses Christian and 
 Marion Whale, were beginning to attract a consider- 
 able share of public patronage. The gingham was 
 manufactured of cotton, and the \vea\ing was done 
 in private houses, in some of which there were as 
 many as fifteen looms. The colours were woven 
 into the cloth, not printed as is now generally done, 
 and everything was of the best material. 
 
 Amid this community of weavers in the quiet old 
 village James Sanderson passed his apparently com- 
 monplace life, varied only with occasional visits to 
 the metropolis, borne thither by the carrier's cart or 
 the lumbering stage-coach of those less advanced 
 days. But, as we shall see, the life of this Scottish 
 weaver was by no means a commonplace one. On 
 the contrar}', it was a life of active and unceasing 
 service in the interests of others, and James Sander- 
 son is thus well worthy of a prominent place in the 
 local annals. He did not, it is true, acquire wide- 
 spread celebrit}'. which was to a large extent
 
 122 Minstrelsy uf the Merse. 
 
 owing- to his extreme modesty, but in the circle of 
 his nativity he shone a brilliant star. Amongst those 
 who really understood the man, there was no one 
 whose opinions was more respected. He was intelli- 
 gent in a very high degree, and won the praise and 
 friendship of the reading and thinking ones among 
 whom he lived and wrought. He has left behind 
 him a large collection of writings very varied in their 
 nature, comprising songs and poems, fragments of 
 dramas and Border romances, sermons, sketches, 
 theological essays, political speeches, etc., all of 
 which tell the one same tale of activity, earnest- 
 mindcdness, and a desire to use his leisure for those 
 around him. In beautiful verse he sings of his native 
 village and its sweet surroundings. The tender 
 memories that cluster round the fairy-haunted Leader 
 have made his YoiiiJtfnl Haunts on Lcaderside 
 deservedly popular with Earlstonians, young and 
 old, and no local re-union is complete without the 
 poem. 
 
 In his theology James Sanderson inclined to the 
 advanced school, and because he could not see eye 
 to eye with the more keenly orthodox, he suffered 
 frequently no little contempt and scorn from many 
 whose practice of religion differed very widely from 
 the thing itself The practical side of Christianity 
 was that from which he viewed all its professors, and 
 he never failed to enforce the necessity of linking on 
 to the highest morality even the minutest details of 
 daily life. As a politician he was akin to the 
 modern Radical, living l"ng before his time in this
 
 James Sanderson. 123 
 
 respect. " Reform and progress " was the watch- 
 word of all his projects, and the very measures 
 he helped to advance more than half a century 
 ago are the new-found experiences of these later 
 Gladstonian years. 
 
 In fine, James Sanderson was a splendid type of 
 an industrious, prudent, conscientious Scotchman, 
 with the breadth of intelligence, deep-rooted sym- 
 pathy, and ability to express heartily and sincerely 
 his sentiments, that pertains only to a comparative 
 few. He was an honour to the community among 
 whom he dwelt and the humble craft which he so 
 long and so ably pursued. The following extract 
 gleaned from his papers will perhaps indicate the 
 character of the man : 
 
 "My journey through life has l)y no means been easy. I have 
 always had but a weakly and sickly constitution, and poverty's cold 
 winds have Ijlown continually in my face, but I thank my God that 
 He has as yet given me fortitude to bear up. I have never yet made 
 a sacrifice of my independence, and I can be as happy, when health 
 permits me, as many who are much stronger, and much more happy 
 than thousands who are rich. If my path has been through the desert, 
 there has always been something to brighten my wandering and to 
 lighten my burden. That 'man was made to mourn' is a truth forced 
 upon all men by actual experience, but he w'as made to rejoice also, 
 for even that which causes pain becomes often the source of pleasure. 
 He who was never weary can never know the luxury of rest ; and even 
 poverty — that sterile god that ruled the star of my nativity — is a con- 
 tributor to the general happiness of mankind, for what would be the 
 condition of mankind if all were supplied with the means of dissipation? 
 It is because we are poor that we work, and our work contributes to 
 the happiness of the rich by increasing the means of their comfort and 
 enjoyment, while their wealth confers the same blessings on us in 
 return for our lal)our. as neither pleasure nor pain belong exclusively
 
 124 MiXSTRELSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 lo eilluT class. Since, then, lliis is so, and liecause it is clear that 
 poverty and riches are only accidental circumstances, I can see Init little 
 cause to re])ine at ni\- own lol or to envy those that are accounted 
 above me. In truth, I have never acknowledged a natural superior, 
 nor paid homage to the face of man. thougli I confess I am poor as a 
 crow." — April, /S^jj. 
 
 He died at Earlstoii. 28th Januar}-, 1861. 
 
 My \'oui iiKL'i, lI.AUNTb ON Li;aijkksii)K. 
 
 On Tweed's }Uire stream and banks so green. 
 
 Her mansions gay and grand ; 
 1 ler sunny bowers and silken flowers. 
 
 The fairest in the land. 
 On these I've looked and felt the charm 
 
 .Such scenes alone impart— 
 .Scenes that exalt, scenes that refine 
 
 And ]iurif\- the heart. 
 
 I'ut still remembrance to ni)- heart 
 
 Its choicest blessings bring, 
 From Leader and its flowery banks, 
 
 Dressed in the robes of Spring : 
 Where in the spring-time of my days 
 
 I culled fresh rosebuds there, 
 \\'ith those whose silvery voices rang 
 
 Like music in the air. 
 
 Thrice happy vale uf Carolside, 
 
 There lovely Flora dwells. 
 Nursing the early flowers of spring 
 
 'Mong yellow dafif-o'-dills. 
 .Sweet vale of peace, where no rude storms 
 
 Disturb thy soft repose ! 
 Where green hills guard on every side 
 
 T-rom every storm that blows !
 
 J.\Mi:s .Sasdersos. 125 
 
 o'er pebbly l)Cfls, by woodcil l)ank>. 
 
 The Leader rushes on. 
 By Rhymer's Tuwer aiul liluikie's grave, 
 
 That tell of times long gone : 
 When learning seemed a wizard spell. 
 
 And kept the earth in awe, 
 And ghostly monks and purblind priests 
 
 Gave the ]iri>ud barons law. 
 
 ( ), (Jowdenknowcs, liiy bonnie broom. 
 
 So famous in old song, 
 Where shepherds tuned their Doric reed 
 
 Its yellow blooms among ; 
 And milkmaids sang sweet strains of love 
 
 To their admiring swains, 
 Till echo rung from rocky glens 
 
 'I"he oft-repeated strains. 
 
 The broom is gone, the milkmaid's song 
 
 No longer cheers the plain ; 
 Rut still the cuckoo's mellow voice 
 
 Each morn is heard again. 
 High on the plane-tree's topmost bough 
 
 The blackbird tunes his lay, 
 To cheer his mate that brooding sits 
 
 The sviltry hours away. 
 
 To me more dear these sylvan shades 
 
 Than river more renowned, 
 Loved memories linger on thy banks 
 
 As on enchanted ground.
 
 126 Minstrelsy of the iMerse. 
 
 The Bower by Leaderside. 
 
 There was no bower more beautiful 
 
 Than that by Leaderside, 
 Green was the grass beneath our feet, 
 
 The rose grew in its pride ; 
 And, waving on their leafy stems, 
 
 Hung rosebuds red and fair, 
 While every balm that Nature breathes 
 
 Came wafted on the air. 
 
 And sweetly sang the little birds 
 
 Upon the budding trees ; 
 The cuckoo's soft and simple notes 
 
 Came on the gentle breeze. 
 It was the poetry of life 
 
 In that green bower to lie 
 And muse upon its varied joys — 
 
 The Leader wimpling by. 
 
 No sorrow entered that green bower. 
 
 Life's joys were all our own, 
 The world's cares, its toils and pains 
 
 Were then to us unknown. 
 Oh, there were those in that green bower 
 
 With whom I loved to meet, 
 Which made the oak trees' cooling shade 
 
 More soothing and more sweet. 
 
 While memory still can hold her sway 
 
 Within this breast of mine, 
 In that green bower my heart will rest 
 
 With those I loved langsyne.
 
 James Saxdersox. 127 
 
 The Banks o' Tweed. 
 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Tweed, 
 
 Ye seem aye clad in summer's green, 
 Where spring's first early flowers arc spread, 
 
 And where the last o' summer's seen. 
 Oft have I wandered by thy side 
 
 To hear thy gushing waters play, 
 And list the mavis woo his bride, 
 
 And sing the e'ening sun away. 
 
 But ye have charms more dear to nie 
 
 Than gushing streams could e'er impart, 
 Or blooming flowers, so fair to see. 
 
 Or song of birds devoid of art : 
 For there I first heard love's soft strains 
 
 Come bursting on my ravished ear. 
 While thrilling joy suffused my veins. 
 
 Locked in the arms of Jamie dear. 
 
 Now he and I have married been 
 
 Twice twenty years and other twa, 
 But still our love burns pure and keen, 
 
 And no a spark is lost ava. 
 We've seen our bairns' bairns grow up, 
 
 And dandled them upon our knee, 
 But still we drink our ain love-cup, 
 
 That will be brimful till we dee.
 
 1^8 Af/xsTKF.LS)- OF ■////■: Mhrse. 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN MARJORIRANKS. 
 
 Fl. 1797. 
 
 INFORMATION concerning John Marjoribanks, 
 " captain," as he styled himself, " of a late 
 independent company," is scant. He appears to 
 have been a native of Lcitholm district, and to have 
 served for a time in the army, chiefl}- in the West 
 Indies. He died at Edinburgh about the close of 
 last century, probably in the }-ear 1797. The follow- 
 ing compositions are from his pen : — 
 
 ■■ Trifles in Verse, by a Voung Soldier." Kelso, 1784. 
 
 •'A Poetical Address to Rational and (jenuine Liberty." Edin., 8vo, 
 
 1 792. Creech. 
 "Slavery, an Essay in Verse." Edin.. 1792. (\^'ritten in Jamaica in 
 
 October, 1786.) 
 " Pieces in Rhyme." Edin., 1793. 
 " Posthumous Poems." Edin., 1798. 
 
 In Sir Walter Scott's copy of " Trifles in Verse" he 
 has written the following marginal note : — " In 1783, 
 or about that time, I remember John Marjoribanks, 
 a smart recruiting officer in the village of Kelso, the 
 
 Weekly Chronicle of which he filled with his love 
 verses. His Delia was a Miss Dickson, daughter 
 r)f a shopkeeper in the same village; his Gloriana a 
 certain prudish old maiden lady, benampt Miss 
 Goldie. I think I see her still with her thin arms 
 sheathed in scarlet gloves, and crossed like two 
 lobsters in a fishmonger's stand. Poor Delia was a 
 \er\" beautiful </irl, and nr)t nK)re conccitcrl than a
 
 C.irr. I IX Joiix Ma kjokiba xas. i 29 
 
 be-rhymed miss (uiijht to be. Many years afterwards 
 I found the Kelso belle, thin and pale, her good looks 
 gone, and her smart dress neglected, governess to the 
 brats of a Paisley manufacturer. I ought to say that 
 there was not an atom of scandal in her flirtation 
 with the young military poet. The bard's fate was 
 not much better. After some service in India and 
 elsewhere, he led a half-pay life about Edinburgh, 
 and died there. There is a tenacity of thought in 
 what he has written, but his verses are usually easy; 
 and I like them because they recall my school-boy 
 days, when I thought him a Horace and his Delia 
 a goddess." — " Lockhart's IjTc of .Scott," end f)f 
 Chapter TTl. 
 
 r,U!ERTV. 
 
 fomc, l)lissful Lil)eily ! whose heavenly name 
 Still lights my l)osom with the Inightest flame 1 
 Inspire with energj- my feeble lay. 
 To bring thy beauties to the blaze of day. 
 (lay are the groves where thou delight'st to rove, 
 There all is peace and harmony and love. 
 There no oppressor binds the huidened sla\ e. 
 Hut all enjoy what God and Nature gave. 
 There no one trembles at a Tyrant's wrath. 
 No lawless rabbles deal the shafts of death. 
 .Smooth are the streams that lave thy blest domain. 
 Thy limpid waters flow without a stain ; 
 Through fertile fields and flowery meads they stray, 
 For ever cherished l)y thy genial ray. 
 There Health and Happiness, thy ofisjiring, shine. 
 And glorious Science is a child of thine. 
 There mild Philosophy still bends his way. 
 And Law and Reason rule with gentle sway. 
 There cheerful Industry, with willing toil, 
 Adds still new beauties to the grateful soil. 
 
 1
 
 I ^o Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 J 
 
 Thy peaceful citizen no poignard meets, 
 Nor havoc desolates thy crowded streets. 
 There busy Commerce, unrestrained and free, 
 Deals out the treasure of the land and sea. 
 Thy fostering hands fair Genius first produce, 
 And all the arts of elegance or use. 
 Soon may that epocha, Fair Queen, appear. 
 When thy glad presence all mankind shall cheer ; 
 When slaves no more shall till a stranger's ground. 
 And none but Freemen in the world be found. 
 But never may that fatal hour be known, 
 WTien savage Anarchy shall seize thy llirf)nc ; 
 And, paying tribute to thy spotless fame, 
 liUt spurn the Monster who usurps thy name.
 
 John WiriTF.iiRAn. 131 
 
 JOHN WHITEHEAD. 
 1 797- 1 879. 
 
 JOHN WHITEHEAD was born at Duns, in 
 humble circumstances, in 1797. When Httle 
 more than twelve years of age he was appren- 
 ticed to a shoemaker in the town, and continued this 
 occupation until far on in life. Like many of the 
 " craft," he was possessed of a vigorous intellect and 
 fine literary taste. These he early turned to account 
 in acquiring an extensive knowledge of general litera- 
 ture which, with an active and ready memory, enabled 
 him in after years to converse fluently or use the pen 
 readily on almost any subject. When a young man 
 he evinced a strong passion for poetry, and verses 
 from his pen, some of them of considerable merit, 
 found their way into the local newspapers and at 
 once drew attention to the writer. In this way he 
 formed the acquaintance of the late Mr. John 
 Mackay Wilson, of the world - renowned " Border 
 Tales," and for a long period he was on intimate 
 terms with the late Mr. Russell of the Scotsman. 
 He died 3rd July, 1879, at the advanced age of 
 eighty-two. 
 
 Son NET, 
 
 Written on a stormy nii^ht. 
 
 The tempest rages, and the sleety shower 
 
 In fitful volleys on the window pelts ; 
 
 The door-hinge creaks, and round the tottering tower 
 
 The threatening wind dreadful howls ; at this hour
 
 .]f/.\SJKEI.S)- OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 ( )f mklnighl gloom ami ?.li)ini, what heart Inii melts 
 In sympathy for those who midst the lower 
 Of "wildering elements have lost their way, 
 And find no shelter from the blast ? or those 
 Whom winds and waves in dreadfid war dismay ? 
 Think on the half-starved poor, ye who rejwse 
 In snug and s]ilendid halls — brook no delay 
 To send relief, — delay may make you lose 
 The power to make the W'idows heart rejoice : 
 Then list, oh list, to ]iity's tnuching voice I 
 
 THK MisKK's HkARI is SKT on (,01I). 
 
 The miser's heart is set on gold, 
 
 The soldier pants for glory, 
 The statesman loves a place to hold, 
 
 The sage to live in story ; 
 But all I ask is a kindly glance 
 
 From the eyes of my own Mary, 
 When at the gloamin' hour we chance 
 
 Beside yon thorn to tarry. 
 
 Beside the thorn we aft have met 
 
 When the weary world was sleeping. 
 When the moon's pale beam the landscape lit, 
 
 And the stars their watch were keeping ; 
 And there we felt what lovers feel 
 
 When kindred hearts are blending. 
 No .sordid thought would o'er us steal, 
 
 The mfxiest mind offending. 
 
 Beside the thorn we'll meet again. 
 
 Where bal)bling streams meander, 
 .And list the night-bird's plaintive strain. 
 
 As through the grove we wander. 
 If there's a rapturous hour on earth 
 
 To cheer life's path so dreary, 
 'lis spent far, far from noisy mirth 
 
 In solitude with Marv.
 
 R 
 
 Robert Mesxox. \}yi 
 
 ROBERT MExNXOX. 
 1797-1885. 
 
 OBERT MENNON, familiarly known as the 
 " Ayton Bard,"' was born on the 29th April, 
 1797, at Ayton, where his father followed the 
 occupation of village slater and glazier. After a 
 meagre education at the parish school young Mennon 
 proceeded in 1824 to London, where he made his 
 home for twenty-six years. In 1828 he married 
 Sarah Bridges, who had been a domestic servant with 
 his employer. The union lasted for forty-eight 
 years, her death taking place at Ayton in 1876. In 
 1850 Mennon returned to Scotland, and commenced 
 business for himself at Dunbar. After nineteen 
 successful years he retired and settled in his native 
 village, where he died on the 30th Januar)', 1885, in 
 the same house in which he had been born eight)- 
 seven years before. 
 
 Robert Mennon began in earl}- life t(j culti\-ate the 
 writing of verse, and in 1869 he issued a massixe 
 collection of his effusions with the title of " Poems, 
 Moral and Religious," which had a wide circulation. 
 He was a man of genuine jjicty, a keen observer of 
 nature, of a lively and cheerful disposition, rac\' and 
 good-humoured in conversation, a most agreeable 
 companion, full of sage counsel and kindl)-, warm- 
 hearted encouragement. His poetical productions 
 are not of the highest merit, but they are generally 
 pleasing, and show the writer to have been a
 
 134 AfLYSTRELSV OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 man of refined feeling, and a good example of an 
 honest, God-fearing, and patriotic Scot. 
 
 Chirnside. 
 
 On yon hillside where sunbeams play, 
 Where liealth and happiness reside, 
 
 With dwellings meek and mansions gay. 
 Stands cheerful, smiling Chirnside. 
 
 In bygone years, while yet a boy. 
 
 Its landscape fair I viewed with pride ; 
 
 The fruitful Merse I hail'd with joy 
 As seen from lofty Chirnside. 
 
 Fam'd Berwickshire, from east to west, 
 .Spreads out its treasures far and wide. 
 
 Till Cheviot Hills, with verdure dress'd. 
 Seem in the clouds, from Chirnside I 
 
 The scene of Flodden Field I trace. 
 
 By blood of noble heroes dyed ; 
 And mark the course of Chevy Chase, 
 
 From vantage ground of Chirnside. 
 
 The famous Tweed rolls gaily on 
 
 Past castles, erst the foe defied. 
 Whose ruins tell their glory's gone, 
 
 As seen afar from Chirnside. 
 
 What anxious mothers here have stood — 
 ^^■hal new-made widows here have sighed, 
 
 While gazing on the Border feud 
 Down in the vale, from Chirnside ! 
 
 But l)etler days we witness now, 
 
 Which claim our thanks and nnise our pride ; 
 
 Our peasants whistle at the plough, 
 A railway passes Chirnside. 
 
 When time admits and weather's fair, 
 
 I'll on that railway take a ride. 
 Review afresh these beauties rare. 
 
 And spend a day at Chirnsitie.
 
 Robert Me.xnon. 13^ , 
 
 The Lii.Y o' the \'alley. 
 Uoun in a vale begirt wi' trees, 
 
 Where birds sing late an' early, 
 Where dewy flowers attract the bees, 
 
 An' sunljeams sparkle rarely. 
 A cottage, frae the world exiled, I 
 
 Stands by a burn so gaily. 
 Where lives a lass the muse has styled | 
 
 The Lily o' the \'alley. 1 
 
 Her cheek is like the lovely rose, 
 
 Soft blended wi' the lily, 
 Her hair in wanton ringlets flows, i 
 
 She's slender as the willow. i 
 
 She pure is as the snaw at morn, | 
 
 W'hen frosts are keen an' chilly, 
 Gay as the birdie on yon thorn — 
 
 Sweet Lily o' the Valley. 
 
 Her aged mither, a' her care, 
 
 She helps wi' hand right tender. 
 An' vows wi' words an' heart sincere 
 
 In troubles to defend her. 
 On a moss seat beside the door 
 
 She plies her labour daily. 
 An' gaily sings, in Nature's lore — 
 
 The Lily o' the Valley. 
 
 When Phoebus sinks beyont the hills, 
 
 An' trees o'ershade the fountain, 
 When echo haunts the mossy rills. 
 
 An' twilight gilds the mountain, 
 I aft a leisure hour beguile 
 
 Where innocence dwells really. 
 An' count it bliss to share her smile — 
 
 The Lily o' the Valley. 
 
 O may the rude, unfeeling heart 
 
 Ne'er nip her tender blossom. 
 Nor cruel guilt's relentless dart 
 
 E'er fester in her bosom !
 
 136 M/.xsTKELsy oi- J HE Mekse. 
 
 Where'er I wander, far or near. 
 
 Or dowie be or gaily, 
 To me she ever will be dear — 
 
 The Lily o' ihe Valley I 
 
 U'KK an' i.F.r ']HF. Jaw (Iae Hv. 
 
 As niusin' ow ihe days o' youtli. 
 
 When impulse leads us aft astray. 
 Kxperience tells the precious truth — 
 
 'Twas best when reason bore the swa} . 
 I mind, when bathin' on the shore, 
 
 When swellin' waves cam' boundin' high, 
 Their threat'ning wrath was quickly o'er- 
 
 We juked an' let the jaw gae by. 
 
 .So I hae aften found since then, 
 
 When cares cam' like a ragin' sea. 
 To calm my mind an' ease my pain, 
 
 Was patiently to bend a wee. 
 For aft I've warsled lang an' sair 
 
 To mak' conlrar}- things comply ; 
 But proved it best, beyond compare, 
 
 To juke an' let the jaw gae by. 
 
 Oh I if this maxim were oor guide, 
 
 This warld wad be a heaven below — 
 'Twad banish envy, strife, an' pride, 
 
 An' kill ojipression at a blow. 
 Nations an' tongues wad live in peace — 
 
 War wi' its dreadfu' horrors fly ; 
 Friendships endure, an' law pleas cease — 
 
 Just juke an' let the jaw gae by. 
 
 An' sure 'twad bring its ain reward — 
 
 What ills we'd shun, what cares we'd miss ; 
 
 The stubborn will — the heart that's hard — 
 Can ne'er enjoy the sweets of bliss. 
 
 .\n' when at peace wi' a' mankind, 
 We calmly lay us doun to die ; 
 
 "Twill help to aid our fleeting mind 
 To juke an' let the jaw gae by.
 
 IVtLL/AM SUIIIERLASD. \ y, 
 
 VV I LLI A M S UTH KR 1. A N D. 
 
 1797-18— • 
 
 WILLIAM SUTHERLAND, known as the 
 " Langton Bard," was born at Choicelea, a 
 farm place near Polvvarth, about the close of last 
 centur}'. His father, of Highland extraction, had 
 settled as cattleman at Choicelea, and there married 
 Ann Tait, a native of Gavinton. The son's earlier 
 years were spent in the joinery of old John Allan at 
 Gavinton, but, not caring for this occupation, he and 
 a companion started a grocery business in Cold- 
 stream. The venture, unfortunately, was not success- 
 ful, and Sutherland emigrated about 1823 to America, 
 and thence all trace of him is lost. In 1821 he 
 issued from the press at Haddington a volume of 
 his poems,^ and these show him to have been a man 
 of deep poetic feeling, in thorough .sympathy with 
 Nature in her many moods, drawing inspiration from 
 the historic scenes of the Merse, and the dail}- round 
 and common task of a simple, unassuming countrx' 
 life. 
 
 The Enthusiast Lo\ kk. 
 
 Sweetly coos the gentle dove, 
 Joy 'sits smiling in the grove, 
 When a-wandering \vi' my love, 
 My young, my charming Helen, O ! 
 
 1 " Poems and Songs," by William Sutherland, Langton, Berwick- 
 shire. Haddington, 8vo, iSat. J. Miller. [Xow a scarce volume ]
 
 M:xsTKELsy of the Merse. 
 
 Sweetly blaws the hawtluirn tree, 
 Flowers bloom bonnic on the leu, 
 Everything yields joy to me 
 Wiien wi' my ain dear Helen, O ! 
 Hills and dales look fresh and gay, 
 Harmless Iaml)kins sport and play, 
 Hours like minutes flee away. 
 When present wi' my Helen, O ! 
 But when alone, alack-a-day ! 
 A' seems dowie, a' seems wae, 
 No flowerets smile, no lamljkins play. 
 When absent frae my Helen, O 1 
 Awake, my muse, awake, and sing, 
 Enraptur'd strike the vocal string. 
 Till hills and dales with echo ring 
 In praise o' my sweet Helen, O ! 
 She's blooming sweet as rosy May, 
 Innocent and artless gay, 
 Curse on the wretch who would l)etray 
 My young, my guileless Helen, O ! 
 For wit, for beauty, shape and air. 
 No maid on earth can e'er compare, 
 'Tis confess'd she has no peer, 
 My young, my charming Helen, O I 
 Could touch express as bosoms feel, 
 I might paint yon lassie leal ; 
 If hearts could speak, I then might tell 
 How dear I lo'e my Helen, O ! 
 Queen of charms ! devoid of art, 
 Darling treasure of my heart, 
 O may we never, never part, ' 
 My soul's delight, my Helen, O I
 
 Dr. Georck Henderson. 139 
 
 DR. GEORGE HENDERSON. 
 
 1 800- 1 864. 
 
 GEORGE HENDERSON, a most notable man 
 of the Merse, was the eldest son of John 
 Henderson and Frances Purves, and was born on 
 5th May, 1800, in the old farmhouse of Little Billy, 
 in the parish of Bunkle, which had long been 
 tenanted by the Henderson family. After an 
 ordinary education in the village schools of the 
 district, young Henderson repaired to Edinburgh to 
 study medicine, qualifying himself for practice about 
 the year 1827. In 1829 he took up his residence at 
 Chirnside, married, and pursued with great popularity 
 and success the somewhat arduous calling of a 
 country doctor until his death on 4th July, 1864. 
 
 Of Dr. Henderson, more than of any other Merse 
 man, it must be said that he excelled in love for his 
 native county, and was justly proud of its record in 
 the nation's history. He laboured with indefatigable 
 diligence to draw, from every possible source, any 
 item of interest regarding it. His busy professional 
 career brought him in contact with every phase of 
 life, and, never losing sight of his first duty, he yet 
 gathered together an enormous accumulation of rare 
 and curious facts relating to Berwickshire and its 
 people. These, unfortunately, only exist in MS. 
 Dr. Henderson undoubtedly meant to publish much 
 of this collection, but the opportunity for his doing
 
 14° M/.\.STK£LSy OF THE MEKi,E. 
 
 SO never came. Besides many newspaper articles, 
 his onl)- work in book form is the well-known 
 " Popular Rhymes, Proverbs, and Sayings of the 
 County of Berwick," published at Newcastle in 1856. 
 As a poet he takes a good rank. His powers in this 
 direction are seen to greatest advantage in the de- 
 scriptions of Merse scenery and life, that flow with 
 such rare beauty and deftness of expression from his 
 facile pen. He is equally at home in the harvest- 
 field, the heathered moorland, or the grey hillside, 
 and he loves to sing in pleasing idylls of the country 
 and its charms. 
 
 Ckunki,y"s Bkaes. 
 
 [Crunkly is a furui place on the estate of Nesbit, in the western extremity of 
 the parish of Kdroni, a few miles to the south of iHins.] 
 
 No\s chill October strews the kiiowes 
 
 W'i' yellow leaves and \\ithere(l fin\\ers, 
 And through the haugh the streamlet rowes 
 
 Away to Nesbit's lofty bowers ; 
 The storm-blast comes, the welkin lowers, 
 
 And drooj)ing sad the bells decay, 
 That brightly blue, in harvest hours 
 
 IJloonicd by our path in sunlight gay, 
 On r'runkly's bf)nnie braes. 
 
 The purple willow-herbs are gone 
 
 That fringed the burn with gorgeous bloom ; 
 And withering where the Iris shone 
 
 The sear flags sink in winter's gloom ; 
 The breezes pass without peiTume, 
 
 And moaning down the streamlet's side 
 The winds sj)eak of decay and doom, 
 
 While drumlie on the waters glide 
 ]>\' f'runkly's bonnie braes.
 
 Dk. (i/iORGE J/i:xni:nsox. 14' 
 
 \'i)n (lark sli)e-l)ii\\cr, now rctl and torn. 
 
 That shaded close the fountain clear. 
 Where violets met the April morn, 
 
 And sweet primroses flourished near, 
 To me and mine will long be dear, 
 
 Though slumbering cold in kirkyard green 
 Is she, who with young love sincere 
 
 Shed o'er my heart a peace serene 
 On Cninklv's bonnie braes. 
 
 We wandered aft down by the burn 
 
 To mark the wild flowers springing sweet, 
 And slowly round the braes we'd turn 
 
 Where hare-bells blossomed at our feet. 
 And hazels formed a cool retreat, 
 
 And, 'twining round my Jessie's breast, 
 My arms were clasped in bliss complete. 
 
 The mossy turf our pleasant rest 
 lln Crunkly's bonnie braes. 
 
 By Ladyflat came gently down 
 
 Soft murmuring stream, where willow-, lean 
 Above the ford at Chatterton. 
 
 Where aft our early sports have been ; 
 And wandering dow n thy margin green 
 
 I've lonely mused the Craes below, 
 While gloamin' hushed the lovely scene 
 
 Beside thy water's peaceful flow. 
 On Orunklv's l)onnie braes. 
 
 Now youthful \ears and lo\es are o'er. 
 
 And sadly down life's path we go ; 
 In joy we'll trace those breaks no more. 
 
 Nor see thy waters gliding slow ; 
 There aft the summer winds will blow. 
 
 And laverocks sing above the corn. 
 While Zi'f'. forgot, in grave lie low. 
 
 And hail no more the autumn morn 
 On Crunklv's bonnie braes.
 
 14- Mj.wstrelsv of the Merse. 
 
 Flow on, sweet stream, by lawn and lea, 
 
 Still niunnuring of departed days, 
 But ne'er again our feet will be 
 
 Upon thy banks and flowery braes : 
 Life's troubled day in gloom decays, 
 
 And, waning in the mist of years. 
 Our joys now shine in feeble rays. 
 
 And no new hope for us appears. 
 
 A Fancy Flight to Leader Water. 
 
 Away to the west let my fancy fly. 
 
 Away o'er the rustling corn, 
 And view the Leader flow shimmering by 
 
 In the light of the harvest morn ; 
 O tarry not up in Lauderdale, 
 
 The reapers are toiling there. 
 And stay not a minute by Tollishill 
 
 To look on its daughters fair. 
 
 Up and away o'er the breezy hills 
 
 Till you come to the Soutra steep ; 
 .And then go down by the wimpling rills 
 
 Where mists in the howes lie deep. 
 The flocks are raking the benty knowes 
 
 On the side o' the Headshaw Law ; 
 Then away and away where the Leader rowes 
 
 l>y many green brae and shaw. 
 
 Past Lauder town and the "darksome bield," 
 
 Where the Maitlands hae l)een lang ; 
 By Woodencleuch and St. Leonard's field 
 
 We'll listen the lintwhite's sang ; 
 On the Blainslie banks and Birkhillsidc 
 
 We'll trace each nook and dell. 
 And in the groves o' the Chapel hide 
 
 Till rung is the noontide bell.
 
 Dr. George Hendersox. 143 
 
 There's mony a l)onnie burn and rill 
 
 That the Leader's stream doth meet 
 Before it has rcach'd the Rhymer's mill 
 
 And the " haughs " sae fair and sweet ; 
 Where stands in the vale "auld Ercildoun," 
 
 And the wa's o' the Rhymer's tower, 
 That held, in the ages long gone down, 
 
 " True Thomas " of magic power. 
 
 And west, away on the Leader side, 
 
 There's the pastoral Cowdenknowes, 
 Where lilted of old the shepherd's bride, 
 
 By the green broom milking her ewes ; 
 
 Leader Water and Cowdenknowes 
 Live sweet in many a rhyme ; 
 
 And sweet down the vale the Leader rowes 
 And murmurs of Rhymer's fame. 
 
 Long ages over the land have past 
 
 Since these haughs the Rhymer trode ; 
 Or wended his way o'er the Leader fast. 
 
 As he up to the Eildons rode ; 
 There's a charm in the haughs o' Leader side, 
 
 For the Minstrel has been there ; 
 And the light o' his song doth yet abide, 
 
 And makes a' its flowers niore fair. 
 
 1 love the land in ilk hill and glen. 
 And its slopes o' the waving corn ; 
 
 I love the land for its honest men, 
 
 And its lassies bright as morn ; 
 But more I love its haughs and braes 
 
 For the Seer once dwelling there, 
 And the songs that are sung in the Leader's praise 
 
 Gar me love it mair and mair. 
 
 O what to me are the classic streams 
 
 Of ancient Greece and Rome? 
 A fairer river is in my dreams — 
 
 A fairer, and nearer home.
 
 144 M/xstk/:ls)- of the Mi-rsi:. 
 
 The wimpling rills o' my native land 
 Fill my heart wi" a patriot's glow, 
 
 .\nd I hear, at the touch o' Fancy's wand, 
 The sound o' the Leader's flow. 
 
 And 1 see true Thomas, in lialdric bright, 
 
 Away with his hounds and horn, 
 To hunt the deer by the F.ildon's height, 
 
 ( )r roam by the Huntly burn ; 
 In the harvest morn he's off and away, 
 
 The old harper, good and true ; 
 And, alone, on the Leader haughs I stray, 
 
 And his ancient lays renew. 
 
 There sing we the song o' the Elfin ( hieen. 
 
 Who loved true Thomas well, 
 .\nd lured him away, 'mong her elves clad-green. 
 
 In the Fairy's land to dwell. 
 Such legends old we have loved to croon. 
 
 ^\'hile the Leader we onward trace ; 
 .\nd still we will love grey Ercildoun. 
 
 WTiere lies the "aiild Ktiynier's race." 
 
 In the tnniblous times o" auld Scotland dc.Tr, 
 
 On the Leader's green sunny side, 
 There trode true Thomas, the fairy seer, 
 
 .Vnd harp'd l)y its shimmering tide : 
 And Thomas the Rhymer, and Fllfin lore. 
 
 In youth's fair morn were mine ; 
 .\nd, till my mortal course is o'er. 
 
 May their light on my path still shine I
 
 Dr. George Henderson. 145 
 
 The Reitrn Home. 
 
 To Lothian land I hade farewell, 
 
 Up Danskein path I slowly trode, 
 And hailed with joy the heathy fell 
 
 That lay around my homeward road. 
 
 Down Fasney Water's rugged side 
 
 The fleecy mists yet lingering lay, 
 And far across the moorland wide 
 
 Romid shepherds whcel'tl the lapwing grey. 
 
 T he moss appeared in greener hue, 
 
 And l)y the burn were fresher seen 
 Soft piles of grass with pearls o' dew, 
 
 And Inidding briers were in the dean. 
 
 The gowan's rosy tips were gem'd 
 
 With dew-drops of the April morn, 
 And while the mist the mountains seaniM, 
 
 I lonesome pass'd Kil]5alet burn. 
 
 The ploughman whistled o'er the lea, 
 
 And gladsome, in the clear blue air, 
 The laverock sung his strains o' glee, 
 
 And Nature's heart was joyful there. 
 
 The lambs were bleating yont the knowes, 
 
 Where plaided herds roani'd pensively, 
 And wending south o'er heights and how es, 
 
 I pass'd the waters of the Dye. 
 
 Then glad I hail'd grey Dirrington — 
 
 The shelter of my sires of yore — 
 And trod the heath, oft trode upon 
 
 P)\- men who Freedom's standard bore. 
 
 I left l>chind brown Lannnermoor, 
 
 And, passing east from Cattleshiel, 
 I saw the Merse w ide spread before. 
 
 And felt my heart with rapture reel. 
 R
 
 146 MlXSTRELSV OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 Behind nic lay the loiiml hare liills, 
 
 The Laws which ne'er luul felt ihe ploughs, 
 
 The pastoral slopes and winipling rills, 
 The rushy bogs and ferny knowes. 
 
 The shepherd-shieling, wild and lone, 
 The camps and cairns of ancient days, 
 
 I left them all, and hasten'd on 
 To reach the Merse and Crunkly braes. 
 
 Dear native Merse I a glorious plain, 
 
 Streak'd wi' the sunbeams, mild and sweet ; 
 
 I gaze far o'er tli)- fair domain, 
 
 Where true hearts in tlieir gladness lieat ; 
 
 I come to tread thy fields again 
 \\'here long my fathers till'd thy soil, 
 
 .\nd M'ith thee and thy sons remain, 
 Till there I end life's ceaseless toil. 
 
 To Cheviot's border hills I turn, 
 O'er Teviotdale my view is cast ; 
 
 On Flodden field I sigh and mourn, 
 .\nd muse o'er days that long are past. 
 
 Far to the margin of the main 
 
 See Ilalidon's grey skirts extend ! 
 
 And wi' wild thoughts o' grief and pain, 
 O'er Scotia's slaughtered sons I bend. 
 
 All that 1 line on earth is there, 
 1 ,and of my fathers ! happy land : 
 
 lie virtuous all thy daughters fair, 
 And all thy sons in honour stand ! 
 
 May tyrants and their minions flee 
 Far frrjm the Merse's bounds away ! 
 
 May truth and genius dwell in thee ! 
 'J'hy toiling sons be glad for aye !
 
 Dr. CiEORGh: Henderson. 14; 
 
 The land of Boston and M'Ciie, 
 
 Where Erskine preached and Baillie^ smig, 
 
 Where, by the Leader's haughs and lea, 
 The Rhymer's wizard harp was strung ! 
 
 There, o'er thy waters, woods, and rills, 
 
 My heart will pour its warmest lay ; 
 While morn and eve athwart thy hills. 
 
 Shall all their varied charms display. 
 
 No land e'er blessed by sun or shower, 
 
 Beneath the wide skies' azure dome. 
 Will e'er to me look half so fair 
 
 As that which holds my native home ! 
 
 Though bleak and bare thy hills may l)e. 
 Though winter tempests scathe thy plain, 
 
 Merse ! I could not part with thee, 
 For all the gold beyond the main I 
 
 The shadows of the passing clouds 
 
 On Bunkle-edge sweep slowly by, 
 And o'er those scenes my memory broods, 
 
 That struck my young enthusiast eye. 
 
 My heart still clings to native scenes, 
 
 And cling it shall for ever more ; 
 In thoughts by day, by night in dreams, 
 
 I all their beauties wander o'er. 
 
 By woods and dells that skirt the Eye, 
 'Midst heather bells, on moorlands bare. 
 
 In fancy, wandering lone, I hie, 
 
 And sing their scenes and prospects fair. 
 
 Or down the hoary, rugged dean, 
 
 'Mong sheltered rocks, with lichens grey, 
 
 1 pluck the wild flowers, rarely seen. 
 Or by Fast Castle's ruins stray. 
 
 ' Lady Grisell Baillie, authoress of " Were iia my heart lielit I wad dee."
 
 148 MlXSTRELS)- OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Or o'er U10 wild St. Abbs I roam, 
 Or down llie Ale I wander slow, 
 
 Ami niiirk sweet Nature's every form, 
 And drink her spirit as I go. 
 
 By haunted streams let me repose. 
 In I'ease's deep sequestered glen ; 
 
 By fountains pure, in moss-grown howes, 
 l^v limpid hum, or rusliy fen. 
 
 hide me in the wildwood glade, 
 
 Or lift me to yon moorlands brown. 
 Where, watching slow the sunlight fade, 
 I'll see the aulunm day go down. 
 
 In fond deliglit 1 ga/.e each morn 
 
 O'er scenes that pleased my infant heart, 
 
 And by the ripening, rustling corn 
 I, lingering, muse and roam apart. 
 
 No other land I wish for mine 
 
 Than my own fatherland — the best ; 
 
 1 there content will spend life's line, 
 And in its soil my bones shall rest. 
 
 When silent o'er my wasting frame 
 The green Merse sod will dewy lie. 
 
 Few then will e'er repeat my name, 
 Vet o'er me still the winds will sigh, 
 
 And evenings mild, in distant years, 
 
 Will steep my grave with Nature's tears, 
 
 And soothe my " i)ale shade" lingering nigh !
 
 ] Villi AM Air Foster. 149 
 
 WILLIAM AIR FOSTER. 
 1 801 -1 862. 
 
 BORN at Coldstream, i6th June, 1801, was by 
 trade a shoemaker, first in his native town, and 
 afterwards in Glasgow, to which city he removed in 
 1842. He was a most enthusiastic Border sports- 
 man, a distinguished champion in all games, excel- 
 ling especially in archery, in which he had no rival at 
 the time. His best songs are those animated by the 
 thrilling excitements of this kind of life, and are 
 characterised by splendid descriptive power and life- 
 like touches. He was an attached friend of the 
 Ettrick Shepherd, " for whom he had a great ad- 
 miration, who warmly encouraged his poetic fanc\-, 
 and in whom he met a congenial spirit," as the 
 Shepherd was a keen angler, and used to spend a 
 week or two at his father's house in Coldstream, 
 from which the}- had many a fishing excursion. In 
 Glasgow Foster enjoyed the acquaintanceship of a 
 large circle of song-writers, in whose societ}- he 
 formed man}- of the strongest friendships of his 
 life. Though a prolific versifier he published 
 very little, his chief contributions being made to 
 " Whistle Binkie " and the " Book of Scottish Song." 
 His more sustained efforts he preferred to keep for 
 the recreation of his friends and famil}'. He died at 
 Glasgow in 1862, much regretted b)' numerous friends 
 for the kindliness of heart and generous s\-mpathy 
 which were so thoroughly exemplified in his life.
 
 li^O MjXSTKELSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 O : Lisi' I'liE Mavis' Mellow Note. ; 
 
 O I list the mavis' mellow note 
 
 Frae 'mang the aspen leaves, 
 \\ bile, big \\i' sang, his swelling throat 
 
 An' mottled breastie heaves. i 
 
 O I sweetly jiours the bonnie bird * 
 
 1 lis music wild and free, 
 liut, Mary, song was never heard ; 
 
 Could wile my heart frae thee. I 
 
 The last bright tints o' sunset fair 
 
 (ileam on the distant hill ; j 
 
 Like llireads o polished silver, there ' 
 
 Glow many a streaming rill. > 
 
 The flowers smell sweet w hen gloaming grey | 
 
 Sends dews across the lea — ' 
 
 No odours sweet or colours gay 
 
 Can wile my heart frae thee. 
 
 The blythsome lambs will sport at e'en 
 
 On many a broomy knowe, 
 .\n(l through the gowan'd glen so green ' 
 
 The mountain stream will rowe. i 
 
 The trouts that sport aneath its wave \ 
 
 Unguiled may live for me ; j 
 
 No hackle bright, or harle grave i 
 
 Can uile my heart frae thee. '( 
 
 I 
 Beneath the gloaming's naJlow light 
 
 The landsca])e fair may lie ; 
 The laverock in his earthward flight 
 
 May cleave the gowden sky ; 
 .And Nature, baith wi' sicht and sound, 
 
 May |)leasure ear and e'e, 
 ]{ut, Mary, lass, the warld's bound 
 
 Hauds nought so dear to me.
 
 IVjll/am Air Fosier. 151 
 
 GUDK COI.DSTREAM TOOX. 
 
 INfy heartfelt ihoiiglits to you are leal, 
 
 Gude folks o' Coldstream toon ! 
 My heart was sair to bid farcweel 
 
 To a' the neebours roon'. 
 'Twas here my earliest breath was dniwii, 
 
 And mony a happy day 
 I spent wi' neebour callants then, 
 
 Though I've been lang away. 
 
 But since I left gude Cokl.itream toon, 
 
 time has changed it sair, 
 The bairnie then upon the lap 
 
 Has grown a woman fair ; 
 The young and comely lads I left 
 
 Are now grt)wn bald and grey. 
 And auld folks scarce, that ance I kenn'd 
 
 Before I gaed away. 
 
 There's something in gude Coldstream toon 
 
 That makes my bosoni beat 
 Wi' an instinct like the hunted hare, 
 
 To gain its native seat — 
 To see Tweed's bonnie stream again. 
 
 Ilk plantain, haugh, and brae. 
 That bore the charm o' auld langsyne. 
 
 When ane was far away. 
 
 I'll wear the gloamin' o' my days 
 
 Where life's career began, 
 And breathe the latest breath o' life 
 
 Just where the first was drawn. 
 In Coldstream toon, wi' Coldstream folk, 
 
 A cosie bield I'll hae, • 
 Ami fight the battles owre again 
 
 1 fought when far away.
 
 152 Jlf/xsrjjELsr OF the Merse. 
 
 Xwv. I'rystin' Tree. 
 
 Tlic liiik grows green on Kennel hanks, 
 
 Krume flowers on Coldstream braes, 
 Tiie i)lantains {a\x on Corn'el haughs 
 
 I lae on their summer clacs. 
 Tweed, rowin' in the gloamin' light 
 
 That streams on haiigh and lea, 
 Sheds beauty owre the landscape bright, 
 
 Around the trjstin' tree. 
 
 The merle likes the slac buss weel, 
 
 Whar grows the berry blue. 
 The muirfuwl likes the heather bell 
 
 When draiket wi' the dew ; 
 And weel I lo'e the bonnie lad 
 
 That cou]-)pit hearts wi' me. 
 When seated, on yon sunmier night, 
 
 Beneath the trystin' tree. 
 
 A' Nature wears a summer hue, 
 
 The sun sinks down serene, 
 The lamb sports round the bleatin" ewe 
 
 Ow bonnie Kennel green ; 
 'J"he mavis frae the auld kirk brae 
 
 I'ours out his notes wi' glee, 
 And the laverock twits a merry lay 
 
 Al)Oon the trystin' tree. 
 
 Then wlui wad hunt for warld's gear, 
 
 Or sacrifice for gain ? 
 'J'he hanie spot hearts aye baud so dear 
 
 When far across the main. 
 ]-'or lordly walth and a' its fyke 
 
 I'm sure I wadna gie 
 The kiss I gat frae him I like 
 
 Beneath the tryslin' tree.
 
 JT/LL/.L^f .l/R FOSJKK. I 53 
 
 Ox TIIK IVITRICK SlIF.I'IIKKI) Hr.ARINi; OVV IHK I'KI/.K AT lllE 
 COMrE'IITION OK IIIK liORDER ]5i)\V.MK.N IN 1S32. 
 
 Our Minstrel Shepherd's won the prize 
 
 Frae a' the gallant Innvnien, 
 And mony a ane his fame envies 
 
 Among the Forest yeomen. 
 For a' alang the Border now 
 
 Where will ye lind his marrow ? 
 lie's won the sturdy Border bow, 
 
 And home it aff to Yarrow. 
 
 A glint o' langsyne was the scene 
 
 To see the archers gather I 
 Our Shepherd chest in forest green, 
 
 Wi' bonnet and \vi' feather ! 
 Out through the mark the arrows flew . 
 
 They teeth'd it like a harrow — 
 But still the bonnie Border bow 
 
 I las gane this year to ^'arrow. 
 
 In manly sports the Shepherd's name 
 
 Has rank'd amang the tightest. 
 And mair than a' — his minstrel fame 
 
 1 las ever been the lirightesl. 
 For wlia wi' him can mak' a sang? 
 
 Wha draw a straighter arrow? 
 (jae try — yell maybe find ye're w rang 
 
 Ere ye come back frae ^'a^row. 
 
 His sangs gie life when owre a glass — 
 
 They cheer us when we're eerie, 
 ^^'i' them the lad can woo his lass 
 
 In strains that charm his dearie. 
 Ilk hill and dale, or broomy knowe. 
 
 I'"rae him an int'rest borrow ; 
 Our shepherd — poet — archer now — 
 
 Whose genius hallow s ^'arrow I
 
 154 MixsTRELsv OF THE Mersi:. 
 
 Lang may our nunsticl l>i)\Miian feci 
 
 His arrow keen and I rue now, 
 Wi' energ)- frac hand to heel 
 
 Lang may he bend his yew bow ; 
 May jilenty ever bless his hearth — 
 
 May't ne'er Ije scrimp'd or narrow, 
 For better man ne'er breathed on earlli 
 
 Than Jamie Hogg o' Yarrow !
 
 Joiix WiLsox^ D.D. 155 
 
 JOIIX WILSON, D.D.i 
 1 804- 1 875. 
 
 DR. JOHN WILSON, of Bombay, is one of the 
 names that the Church deH"hts to honour. 
 And rightly so ; for among Christian heroes there 
 are none more worthy of being remembered than the 
 men of earnest, self-denying, missionary spirit. John 
 Wilson, by his labours in India, proved himself of 
 this stamp, and has left behind him the rich record 
 of a busy life that still bears much precious fruit. 
 
 The son of a small farmer, he was born at Lauder 
 on iith December, 1804; studied at the burgh 
 school and University of Edinburgh ; was ordained 
 a missionary to India, 24th June, 1828 ; and arrived 
 at Bombay in February, 1829. In 1836 he received 
 the degree of D.D. from his Alma Mater, and 
 revisited Scotland in 1842, returning to Bombay in 
 1848. In 1870 he was elected Moderator of the Free 
 Church General Assembly. He died at Bombay in 
 1875. During his long and honoured career, Dr 
 Wilson published several meritorious works, chiefly 
 on missionary and Oriental themes. He wrote also 
 a Poetical Address to India, which was [printed at 
 Bombay in 1872, and some other fragments, all of a 
 religious character. 
 
 ' All excL'lknl l)ioy;ia])hy is " The Life <(f John Wilson, D.D., F.R.S., 
 for Fifty Years Philanthropist and Scholar in the East." By George 
 Smith, LL.D., CLE., with portrait and illustrations. London: John 
 Murray, 1879.
 
 156 Mjxstkelsy of the Mekse. 
 
 ALEXANDER HOME. 
 1 807- 1 827. 
 
 TIIIC follouini,^ lines, amongst many others, were 
 written by Alexander Kinloch Home, of the 
 family of Home of Cowdenknowes, a student of great 
 promise, who died in 1827. He rests in the ancestral 
 burying-ground at Earlston. 
 
 A Wkek IX TiiK Country. 
 
 I Written at Cowdenknowes, 20th May, 1823.1 
 
 Adieu, my books, adieu awhile, 
 
 And welcome holiday and [ilay, 
 For May invites, with gladsome smile, 
 
 My sle]is to distant scenes awav. 
 
 And now I trace each well-known spot, 
 
 And roam o'er hill and valley fair ; 
 I pity much your harder lot. 
 
 Whose hours are given to Iwoks and caie. 
 
 U 1 who wouKl give the sini])le joys 
 Of country sports and healtliful gales 
 
 I'or all the ])om]) (jf sickiiiiig noise 
 A crowded cil)"s ))ride un\eils? 
 
 .\o\\ iiy the murmuring stream I stand 
 
 And wish its sportive tenants mine, 
 Then seize the rod with eager hand. 
 
 And launch with force the ample line. 
 
 'I'lie subtle hook, with templing bait, 
 
 -Mlures to death the finny i)rizc ; 
 The victim, reckless of his fate, 
 
 .'^l^rings at ihc bait, and wreathes, and dies.
 
 Alexander Home. 157 
 
 Alas, even so our joys expire ! 
 
 For pleasure's paths are tracked with pain; 
 The good our wishes most desire, 
 
 When found, is transient, light, and vain. 
 
 Thus, too, my holiday is gone. 
 
 Then farewell river, hill, and plain ; 
 Adieu, adieu, ye hours pass on, 
 
 And welciime to my books again !
 
 158 MlXSJKF.LSY OF THE M ERSE. 
 
 ANDREW STEELE. 
 
 1811-1882. 
 
 ANDREW STEELE was born at Coldstream in 
 181 1. After a moderate education at the 
 parish academ)- he was apprenticed to the boot- 
 making trade, and in a few years commenced 
 business for himself During his leisure time he 
 strove arduously to add to his store of knowledge, 
 and succeeded in acquiring a tolerably good under- 
 standing of history and theology, subjects which 
 seem to have had a special attraction for his mind. 
 He was also a keen scientist. But perhaps he is 
 best known as a cultivator of the Muse. He wrote 
 a large number of poems, ver}' varied in their nature 
 and st\'le, most of which appeared in the columns of 
 local newspapers. About the year 1869, or earlier, 
 he issued a volume of " Select Productions," and 
 two years later a .second edition,^ both of which had 
 a wide circulation in the Border countr}^ He flied 
 at Wilton, Hawick, 20th Eebruary, 1882. 
 
 Steele's poetry embraces a wide range of subjects, 
 and is in the main of a moral and religious character; 
 but there arc several bright lyrical touches of genuine 
 beauty that show the author to have been influenced 
 not only by the Divine life as revealed through the 
 
 ' The Poetical Works of Andrew Steele. Edinburgh : John 
 Forsyth, 1871,
 
 A XDREW Steele. 159 
 
 Scriptures, but also by that same Divine life so 
 richly manifested in the world of Nature and in the 
 depths of human love. 
 
 Mv Nativk Border Homi:. 
 
 O for yon heights where waves the [line, 
 
 Again there let me roam ; 
 What charms on earth can rival thine, 
 
 My native Border home? 
 
 How sweet through hlue-liells there to wade 
 
 And see the primrose spring — 
 To hear beneath the vernal shade 
 
 The mellow warl)lers sing ! 
 
 And give me there alone to stray, 
 
 In rapture to behold 
 The lovely landscape, fresh and gay, 
 
 lis magic scenes unfold. 
 
 There wafts the Tweed her pearly tide, 
 
 How soft her murmuring flow , 
 Bathing her osier emerald side, 
 
 Where fragrant hawthorns blow. 
 
 And oh, yon hallowed craggy steep. 
 
 Where silence reigns alone, 
 Where countless throngs oljlivious sleep. 
 
 Of years and ages gone. 
 
 And there the peaceful hamlet spreads, 
 
 Where fields and orchards smile ; 
 And hail, embraced by deep'ning shades, 
 
 Yon fairy portly pile. 
 
 And sweet the daisy-spangled mead, 
 
 Where l)lithe the lambkin plays, 
 How bland its charms renew indeed 
 
 The joys of other days.
 
 l6o M/XSTRELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 ■< 
 
 Of life's ambrosial cloudless morn, 
 
 Where now the serajih band 
 That gambolled gay beneath the thorn, 
 
 Or gemmed yon jicbbled strand ? 
 
 I see them imaged in the clouds, 
 
 On Cheviot's morning brow ; 
 While ever)' grove and bower enshrouds 
 
 For me Init memories now. 
 
 Thus sacred thrice those scenes to me, 
 
 How thrilling ! how benign ! 
 Round which, as ivy round the tree. 
 
 My sympathies entwine. 
 
 Then for yon heights where waves the pine. 
 
 Again there let me roam ; 
 ^^'hal charms on earth can rival thine, 
 
 My native Border home ? 
 
 TiiK IIiRSKi.' Vet for Me. 
 
 Away I ye orient groves, away I 
 
 Where fragrant citrons bloom ; 
 The orange, lime, and myrtle gay, 
 
 pxhale their sweet perfume ; 
 Nor name those Ijalmy, spicy dells. 
 
 Though florulent they be. 
 Their fairy charms let others sing. 
 
 The I lirsel yet for me ! 
 Elysian spot I while lasts a string, 
 
 My lyre ril tune to thee. 
 
 How sweet lo roam thy sunny glades. 
 Where wild the flow'rets blow I 
 
 Who for thy soft ambrosial shades, 
 The worKl would not forego? 
 
 ' The seat of the Karl of Home, near Coldstream.
 
 AxDREiF Steele. \(n 
 
 Where nntive niinslrels melting pour 
 
 Their lays from every tree, 
 And every heart forgets its care : 
 
 The Ilirsel yet for me ! 
 Mysian spot ! while lasts a string, 
 
 Nfy lyre I'll tune to thee. 
 
 Unrivalled Flora's loved retreat, 
 
 Thy smiling garden hail ; 
 An Eden here renewed to meet, 
 
 What fancy now can fail. 
 As angels' breath thy /ei>li}rs sweet ; . 
 
 And oh, the ecstasy, 
 When greets the eye thy blushing walls — 
 
 The Hirsel yet for me ! 
 Elysian spot ! while lasts a string. 
 
 My lyre Til tunc to thee. 
 
 Dear to my soul, thrice lovely bower, 
 
 Those nameless sweets of thine ; 
 And oh, their heaven-inspiring power, 
 
 How thrilling, how divine ! 
 Here let me linger to enjoy, 
 
 Alone, their luxury ; 
 I ask no higher earthly lioon — 
 
 The Hirsel yet for nic ! 
 Elysian spot ! while lasts a string. 
 
 My lyie Ell tune to thee. 
 
 .\nd hail, yon venerable pile, 
 
 Thy hospitable dome ; 
 May peace and plenty ever smile, 
 
 To bless the house of Home ! 
 And now adieu, thy magic scenes ; 
 
 My fondest memory . 
 .Shall ever homage with the lay — 
 
 The Hirsel yet for me ! 
 Elysian spot I while lasts a string, 
 
 My Ivie I'll tune to thee, 
 L
 
 l62 M/XSTJiELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 IIkv iok a Wiif. \vi" a Hunnkr or Twa. 
 
 .li/— "Tlie Lainl o' Coekiien." 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Sing hev for a wife \vi' a hmner or twa, 
 A canty bit wife wi' a hiinner or twa ; 
 Contented and blithe, and hoo crouse wad I craw, 
 Gin I had a wife wi' a luinni.r or twa I 
 
 I've aft had a blink o' Dame Fortune's bricht e'e. 
 But passed her aye bye, as she cared na for me ; 
 What's wealth but a syren that sings to beguile ? 
 And honour a bauble that glitters a while? 
 For them and for grandeur I little but care — 
 Kneugh be my lot, wi' a morsel to spare : 
 The snia'er the height, O the less is the fa'. 
 So a' my ambition's a hunner or twa. 
 
 I care na for l;eauty, gin but she be guid, 
 I rate na her worth by connection or bluid ; 
 As the fairest o' flowers hae aft the least smell. 
 And the finest o' grapes by the tastin' we tell : 
 But if she is lovin' and modest and true, 
 Can wash a bit sark, can airn, and can sew, 
 And guide the bit penny wi' care aboon a', 
 :-he's naething the waur wi' a hunner or twa. 
 
 'Twad keep us fu' cosy — wi' that o' my ain — 
 When drifts ti e cauld snaw o'er the moor and the ])lain 
 Be to our wee blossoms a bield frae the blast. 
 That's withered the brightest and best as it passed. 
 O mony the ]ileasures that wait its command. 
 And hoo finely and freely it turns the hand ! 
 " ^'our wit and your wisdom are naething ava. 
 Without,'' cries the world, "a hunner or twa."
 
 I Villi AM J^'kockij:. 163 
 
 WILLIAM BROCK IE. 
 
 181 1 - 1 R90. 
 
 WILLIAM BROCKIE was bom on ist March, 
 181 1, at Lauder East Mains/ of which farm 
 his father was tenant. His parents — Alexander and 
 Janet Brockie — had both sprung from well-doing 
 Border yeoman families, and were fully qualified for 
 the duties of parenthood. William was their first- 
 born. His early days were spent in "sweet and. 
 pastoral Lauderdale," by the pleasant haughs of 
 Leader. Romance reigns in this district ; it is a 
 tract of country of which it has been said that every 
 field has its battle, and every rivulet its song. 
 Nature, too, is here in all her glory. Wherever the 
 eye may chance to wander it falls on a rich and 
 varied landscape — hill and glen, field and moor, 
 forest and river. And there is the added charm of 
 legend and old-world story. This is the country of 
 witch-lore and fairy tale. There is history also, dark 
 and bloody, the revenge of Lauder Bridge, and, long 
 years before, the defence of Thirlstane, by " Maitland 
 with auld beard grey." The stream is the haunted 
 Leader, bounding onward past many a broonn- 
 knowe to the Rhymer's Ercildoune and the silver 
 Tweed. Surely, here indeed were attractions of 
 highest value to a poetic soul! and it must be said that 
 the home of William Brockic's childhood moulded 
 
 ^ Not at .Sniailhcilni, as Dr. Charles Rogers says in the " -Miideni 
 Scottish Minstrel."
 
 iC>4 M/XSTRElSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 to a \cr)- larijc extent his future career. He received 
 the rudiments of an luiglish education, with a 
 smatteriniT of Latin, at the parish schools of Lauder, 
 Smailhohii, Mertoun, and Melrose. In l^'ebruar)-, 
 1S25, he entered as a clerk the then well-known 
 office of Messrs. Curie & Erskine, solicitors, Mel- 
 rose. He was not given his choice of a profession, 
 and had to submit to his father's determination to 
 make his eldest son " a gentleman of the law." At 
 Melrose his lot was b\' no means an easy one. The 
 hours were long, the work irksome, the remuneration 
 scant, and his masters hard and exacting. But the 
 \eriest drudger}- is often accompanied with some 
 charm, and our young law-cleik had his pleasure- 
 able experience in the office at Melrose. He 
 enlarged his knowledge of the world and of human 
 nature, and came much in contact v.ith many of the 
 master minds of that day. He very frequently saw 
 Scott, and man\- of the characters depicted in his 
 novels ; the h^arl of Buchan, of Dryburgh ; Sir David 
 F.rewster, who lived at Allerley, on the opposite 
 bank of the Tweed ; Mr. G. P. R. James, who had 
 taken a lease of Maxpoffle, near Bowden ; Mr. 
 John Gibson Lockhart ; the I'^ttrick Shejjhcrd ; and 
 Colonel Ferguson, the author of " C)'ril Thornton," 
 who resided at Chiefswood. 
 
 At this time also, in spite of long hours and hard 
 work, he found some leisure for self culture, and, 
 among other subjects, essayed the Muse. Soon, 
 however, he left for Edinburgh, to assist in the 
 office which, in consequence of extending practice,
 
 ]]'//./. I. \M Brock IE. 165 
 
 Messrs. Curie i.\: I'lrskine had established in that 
 city. In the metropolis he took every opporlunit\- 
 of seeinij and hearing the leading lawyers and divines 
 — Lords JefTre}', Cockburn, Skene, and Moncrieff, and 
 Drs. Chalmers, Guthrie, Gordon, Henry Grey, and 
 Andrew Thomson. But the destiny of William 
 Brockie did not lie in the direction of the law or the 
 Gospel. W'hen he had completed his articles the 
 countr)- was passing through a severe commercial 
 panic, and it \\as therefore a most inopportune 
 period to get an engagement or to open chambers 
 on his own account. Hence he returned home and 
 farmed with his father for several years, during 
 which time he applied himself \igorousl)^ to private 
 study, chiefl}- linguistic and Biblical. In 1841 we 
 find him at Galashiels as clerk and traveller for a 
 wholesale establishment, and in 1843 he appears as 
 a " dominie " in the small country school of Kailzie, 
 in Peeblesshire. At the Disruption he cast in his 
 lot with the Seccders, and was appointed to a Free 
 Church school in Peebles. The editorship, with a 
 share in the proprietorship, of the Border WatcJi, a 
 Free Church journal published at Kelso, was offered 
 to him about the same time, and this he accepted. 
 In 1846 the headquarters of the paper were removed 
 to Galashiels, when, mainly on account of the intem- 
 perate habits of his partner, Mr. Brockie determined 
 to get rid of the concern, and it was sold to a gentle- 
 man who changed its name to the Border Advertiser, 
 which is still published. This was the first paper 
 printed in Selkirkshire.
 
 i66 MixMKELsr OF THE Merse. 
 
 Ill 1^49 Mr. Brockie went to South Shields to edit 
 the Xorth and South Shtc/ds Gar:etti\ but loss of 
 health obliged him to forego this work in 1852. 
 Then he opened an academy, where for several years 
 he taught a thorough classical education. In i860 
 he was returned to South Shields Town Council at 
 the top of the poll, and in the same }'ear was united 
 in marriage to a very estimable lady, Miss Mary 
 Neil, daughter of the Rev. Robert Neil, of the 
 Presbyterian Church at Wallsend. In 1862 he went 
 to Sunderland to edit the Sunderland Times, but ten 
 years later had to resign this post also through 
 recurring ill-health. r\)r a time, however, he con- 
 tinued to write the principal leaders, and contributed 
 frequenth' to contemporary journals. He was always 
 a busy man, an incessant toiler, and, up to the age 
 of sevent)', wrought on an average between seventy 
 and eighty hours a week. He accumulated an 
 enormous quantit)' of material for literary under- 
 takings, and at the time of his death his library 
 contained upwards of two hundred bound volumes 
 of scraps and jottings on a great variety of subjects, 
 all duly collated and classified under distinct headings 
 and ready for reference. As a linguist few could 
 excel him. He acquired a competent knowledge of 
 all the modern continental languages — French, Ger- 
 man, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, Danish, 
 Swcflish, ancient and modern Greek ; and, with aids, 
 could make his way through Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, 
 Polish, Russian, Welsh, and Gaelic. Some years ago 
 he entered into a correspondence with a poet in
 
 iViLLiAM Brock IE. iS'j 
 
 Persia, which was entirely conducted in Arabic. He 
 was a keen botanist, and was well versed in geology 
 and natural history. 
 
 Besides his literary work for newspapers and 
 periodicals, William Brockie wrote and compiled a 
 large number of interesting Border books, chief 
 among which may be mentioned his " History of 
 Coldingham Priory,"' " The Gypsies of Yetholm,'' " A 
 History of Shields," "The Folk of Shields," "Legends 
 and Superstitions of the County of Durham," " A 
 Day in the Land of Scott," " Leaderside Legends," 
 "The Dark and the Dawn: A Poem," "The Con- 
 fessional ; and Other Poems," etc., etc. As a poet 
 he does not attain any high eminence. His style is 
 not the most attractive, and at times the thought 
 tends to become mystical. But there are many 
 pleasing rhapsodies, and one feels that beneath the 
 surface there is, after all, a heart that understands 
 the deep things of life — its joys and sorrows — 
 that can sympathise very fully with a brother 
 man in all the relations of his being. He is best 
 in the Scotch pieces that comprise a part of his 
 poetical musings, and delights to dwell on the 
 scenes and incidents of early life in his beloved 
 Berwickshire. 
 
 Lawtiier East Mains. 
 
 I wadna gie the braes of Boondrcich, 
 That I used to speel langsyne. 
 
 For the olive groves of Lonibardie, 
 Or the vineyards o' tlie Kliine.
 
 1 68 Mj.vstkelsv of the Mekse. 
 
 1 wadiia gie llic ;\ukl loor perk, 
 \\ i" ils ruin bald an' grim, 
 
 l"or the ducal palace o' Dalkeiili, 
 \\"v ils lawns and gairdens trim. 
 
 1 wadna gic llic wilchcs' ihimmlcs, 
 That grew near Howmeadows well, 
 
 For the fairest floors that florists i)ri/e, 
 Or the royal rose itsel'. 
 
 I wadna gie the laich hertrs lioose, 
 Where I sup])it nettle kail, 
 
 I'or the biggest and the bonniest ha' 
 r the Mersc an' Tibbidale. 
 
 There's nae place like ane's native place, 
 Nae hame like ane's first liame ; 
 
 It mattersna hoo puir an' cauld, 
 Oor love is a' the same. 
 
 \\\: re drawn by some mysterious tie 
 That nae man e'er defined, 
 
 To the sacred spot, hooe"er remote. 
 Where lichl first on us shined. 
 
 An' sae of a' the wide, wide warld, 
 
 .Scotland I loe the best, 
 An' dearest to me o' Scottish streams 
 
 Leader dings a' the rest. 
 
 An' frae a' the ferms upon its banks 
 I'd turn to Lawther ICast Mains, 
 
 The' nane that kens or cares for me 
 For miles aroon' remains. 
 
 Its no that it's sae bonny a bit 
 That nane wi't can compare ; 
 
 1 ken there's nae great beauty in'l, 
 But then it has what's niair :
 
 IVlLLlAM BkOCKJE. 1 69 
 
 A loving inolher's yciulc c'c 
 
 There first waked liivc i' mine ; 
 A g;illiinl feyther's form first there 
 
 To me appeared divine. 
 
 There first I heard the name o' Him 
 
 That made the bonnie floors ; 
 There first I saw the virgin snaw, 
 
 An' tlie sparklin siller shoors. 
 
 Gae wa 1 gae wa 1 1 pity ye a' 
 
 That's been l)roucht up in toons ; 
 Nae wonder that ye're timmer-tuned, 
 
 Preekt, ])auchty, pudgel loons I 
 
 \"er bairiuime amang styfe and reek 
 
 Tn clarty closes spent, 
 ^'e scarce e'er saw the green, green gerse, 
 
 Or the clear blue firmament ; 
 
 Ve never heard the bumbee's drone, 
 
 Nor the hurcheon's waesome cheep, 
 Ve never gumpt in a Inirn for trool, 
 
 Or fand a young peasweep. 
 
 Ve never gat a drink o' milk. 
 
 Sweet as it cam frae the coo ; 
 Ye never built a rabbit hoose, 
 
 Or fed a rookety doo. 
 
 Ve never walcht the fleeing ether 
 
 Abune the mossy stank, 
 Or saw the huerunt catching eels 
 
 Amang the reeds sae rank. 
 
 Ve never climbed a high hill tap, 
 
 To see what ye could see ; 
 \'e never played hael simmer days 
 
 On the bloomin' clover lea ;
 
 M/.\sr/<K/.sy of the Mi:rse. 
 
 Ve never saw the Will o' the Wisp, 
 Nor the tlickerin Northern Lichts ; 
 
 Ve ne'er crap roon the kitchen fire, 
 r the lang wild winter nichts. 
 
 Ve never ni;ide a string o' heads 
 O' the rountree berries ripe ; 
 
 \'e never blew a plane-tree whussel 
 Or a green yit-stalk pipe. 
 
 A grown-uji man may thrive in a loon, 
 
 An' gather goud an' lair, 
 Bill ilka young thing sud enjoy 
 
 The caller country air. 
 
 Better than schules and colleges 
 Are hills and valleys green ; 
 
 For maisl o' yer pedantic lore 
 I wadna gie a preen. 
 
 "i'e learn the Greek an' Roman names 
 
 O' things ye never saw. 
 While aboot real existences 
 
 ^'e ken maisl nochl ava. 
 
 For me, I had experience, 
 
 Ere I was three year auld, 
 O' things thai at the ]iresent, keep 
 
 My hairl frae lurnin' cauld. 
 
 An' hoo can I forget the place 
 Where thai experience grew ? 
 
 I wadna gie the memory o't 
 For a' that Newton knew.
 
 IVlLLJAM UkOCK/E, 171 
 
 Vt'i.i, Nkvi:r CiANt; Back io Vkk Mither Xae Mair. 
 
 (Xeiv words to a favourite Scottish air.) 
 
 W'lial ails ye, my lassie, my dawtie, my ain ? 
 I've gien ye my word, an' I gie ye't again — 
 
 There's naething to fear ye, 
 
 Be lichtsome and chcerie, 
 I'll never forsalvc ye, nor leave ye yer lane. 
 
 We're sune to be marriet — I needna say mair. 
 Our love will be leal, tho' our livin' be bare ; 
 
 In a hoose o' our ain, 
 
 We'll be cantie an' fain. 
 An' ye'U never gang back to yer mither nae mair. 
 
 We needna be troublet 'fore trouble be sprung, 
 The warld's afore us— we"re puir, but we're young ; 
 
 An' fate 'ill be kind 
 
 If were willint in mind, 
 Sae keep uj) yer heart, lass, and dinna be dung. 
 
 folk a' hae their troubles, and we'll get our share, 
 But we'll warsle out throo them, and scorn to despair ; 
 
 Sae cheer up yer heart. 
 
 For we never shall part, 
 An' ye'll never gang back to yer mither nae mair. 
 
 While we live for each other, our lot will be blest. 
 An' tho' freens sud forget us, they'll never be missed ; 
 
 \\'e'll sit doon at e'en 
 
 By the ingle sae bien, 
 -Vn' the cares o' the warld 'ill a' be dismissal. 
 
 A couple that strive to be honest and fair 
 
 May be rich without siller, and guid without lair. 
 
 Be gentle an' true, 
 
 An' ye'se never need rue, 
 Nor sigh to win l)ack to yer mither nae mair.
 
 172 MjysTRELsv or the Mekse. 
 
 L A D \ ill' M 1<: - C A M P B E L L. 
 
 1812-1839. 
 
 THE followiiii^' swcctl}' pathetic lines were written 
 by the first wife of Sir Hugh Humc-Cami)bell 
 of Marchmont, Bart. She was Margaret Penelope, 
 )-ounger daughter of John Spottiswood, Esq., of 
 Spottiswood, and sister of Lady John Scott. She 
 died 16th October, 1839. Dr. John Brown, in " Hone 
 Subscciv;e," after quoting the song, says : " Can the 
 Gfifted author of these lines and of their music not be 
 prevailed on to give them and others to the world as 
 well as to her friends?" 
 
 WilK.N J'HOU ART m:.\r .Mi:. 
 
 W'licn tlmu ail near nic 
 .Scjrrow seems lo tly, 
 And then T think, as well I may, 
 That on this earlh there is not one 
 More blest than I. 
 
 lUit when thou leav'sl me 
 Doiihts and fears arise, 
 .\nd darkness reigns 
 \Vliere all before was light. 
 The .sunshine of my soul 
 Is in those eyes, 
 And when they leave me 
 All the world is night. 
 
 Hut when ihou art near me 
 
 Sorrow seems to fly, 
 
 And then I feel, as well I may. 
 
 That on this earth there dwells not one 
 
 .So blest a.s I.
 
 TiiOM \s A'xo.v. 1 73 
 
 THOMAS KXOX. 
 1 8 18-1879. 
 
 THOMAS KXOX was born at Greenlaw in 
 June, 1818. He was educated at the parish 
 school, and at the vcr}- immature age of thirteen was 
 apprenticed to a firm of haberdashers in the Hii^h 
 Street of Edinburgh. Upon completing his term in 
 this establishment he entered a large w^arehouse in 
 Dundee, where he remained for several )'ears. 
 During this period he exerted all his powers towards 
 his self-improvement, and read and wrote extensively 
 on subjects of passing interest. He took, for 
 example, a prominent part in the agitation for 
 shortened hours of labour in factories and shops, and 
 was instrumental in securing a great reform in this 
 direction. In 1843 he started, along with two 
 partners, the well-known metropolitan firm of Knox, 
 Samuel & Dickson, \\hich soon grew to great extent, 
 requiring large premises, and at one time nearly a 
 hundred assistants. Notwithstanding the enormous 
 labour thus entailed on his time and attention, he 
 took a very active share in the work of various 
 public movements. He was a vigorous temperance 
 advocate, and did yeoman service to the cause in a 
 multiplicity of ways. He espoused the sad lot of 
 the poor, and drew public attention to the pitiful 
 condition of the low and lapsed masses. His 
 " Modern Chronicles of the Canongatc " and " Social
 
 174 AflXSTRELSV OF Till-: Mf.rse. 
 
 Glimpses of lulinburi;'h " were not without their 
 influence in urging on Dr. Guthrie's Ragged School 
 system and Dr. William Chambers's well-known 
 Improvement Scheme. He was one of the founders 
 of the Association for Improving the Condition of 
 the Poor, the Industrial Brigade, and Night As}'lum 
 for the Homeless. It might, in short, be said that 
 Thomas Knox allied himself in a spirit of heartiest 
 jjractical s)'mpathy to ever}' institution whose object 
 was the temporal and moral elevation of the poor, 
 the oppressed, and the sinful. He was, too, a 
 devoted and energetic friend of education, and a 
 strong upholder of its compulsory enforcement. He 
 became a member of the Merchant Company of 
 Edinburgh in 1856, passing through the offices of 
 Assistant, Treasurer, and Master, and while thus 
 connected inaugurated that special work which has 
 made the Compan)''s schools famous all over the 
 land. He also took a prominent interest in the 
 Watt Institution and School of Art — now the Heriot- 
 Watt College — and his last work before retiring to 
 rest on the night of his death was to draft the annual 
 report. With other societies he was intimately 
 associated, such as the Royal Society of Arts, the 
 Geological Societ}% lulinburgh l^ordcr Counties 
 Association, and IVjrderers' Union, lie was a man' 
 of social disposition, warm-hearted and generous, 
 true to the core — "one of I leaven's own aristocracy." 
 His death occurred with startling suddenness on 4th 
 December, 1879. He was buried in the beautiful 
 Grange Ccmeter)-.
 
 Thomas A\\-o.\: 175 
 
 Thomas Knox lived a life of sweet self-denial. 
 Not for the ambition of receiving plaudits from men 
 did he struggle bravely up life's steep ladder, but 
 from the grand desire, so strongly implanted in his 
 own manly heart, of benefiting humanity in his day 
 and eeneration. He wrote : 
 
 fc>" 
 
 Press on ! press on ! nor doul)t nor fear, 
 From age to age this voice shall cheer, 
 Whate'er niny die and be forgot. 
 Work done for (jod ?V dielh not. 
 
 And these lines truly express the only motive of his 
 high-toned and public-spirited career. 
 
 A collection of Knox's poems, of which he wrote a 
 large number, mainly on religious and temperance 
 themes, was issued some years ago by William 
 Tweedie, of London, the well-known temperance 
 publisher, in a small volume of ninety-six pages 
 bearing the title, " Rhymed Convictions in Songs, 
 Hymns, and Recitations, for Social Meetings and 
 Firesides, by ' Walneerg ; '"^ and in 1880 the Messrs. 
 Parlane, of Paisley, gave to the public a thin quarto 
 of " Scottish Temperance Songs to Scottish Airs," by 
 Thomas Knox. From the introductory note to the 
 latter publication we cull the following sonnet by 
 Professor Blackie, which appeared in J'/ic Scotsman 
 a few days after Thomas Knox's death : 
 
 ' " Walneerg" is simply the name of his native village spelled back 
 ward.
 
 176 il/jxsTKEf.sr OF THE Merse. 
 
 On Skf.inc a I'liriiOGRAiMi or 'ihk. Latf. Thomas Knox. 
 
 Anil art thou he — a shadow, a grey sign 
 
 Of him who late, in fulness of a man, 
 Stood forth all fresh and strong in everj- line 
 
 That with the Oodhead links the human clan? 
 Hut yesterday, in proud view of this town. 
 
 Loved hy the good and honoured l)y the wise, 
 Now dimmed, disthroned, and cast obscurely down 
 
 'Neath the cold earth, hid from all human eyes ! 
 O, my dear brother, were the power with me 
 
 To make thy name live w ith I'ar-sounded men, 
 I'd pour thy praises forth as full and free 
 
 As the well gushes from the cloud-capt \^il\\ : 
 But I am weak : and with my tears alone 
 
 ("an tell how much I lack when thou art gone ! 
 
 Undyinc. Work. 
 
 Though chilling years have o'er us rolled. 
 Warm at our hearts this faith we hold : 
 Whate'er may die and be forgot, 
 Work done for God it dieth not I 
 
 Though scoflers ask, Where is your gain ? 
 And, mocking, say your toil is vain I 
 Such scoffers die and are forgot. 
 Work done for God it dieth not ! 
 
 Press on, true men can never fail. 
 Whoe'er oppose, they must prevail ; 
 Opponents die and are forgf)t. 
 Work done for (Jod it dieth not ! 
 
 Press on ! press on ! nor doubt nor fear, 
 From age to age this voice shall cheer, 
 Whate'er may die and be forgot. 
 Work done for Gf)d it dieth r.ot I
 
 Thomas A. vox. 177 
 
 Earth an Eden-Bower. 
 
 ,4 //■—"My love is like a red, red rose." 
 Oh, earth is yet an Edeii-liower, 
 
 Where man may happy be, 
 Creation's glories are his dower, 
 
 By mountain, sky, and sea. 
 But chiefcst joy to man e'er given 
 
 Is hame wi' a' its l)liss ; 
 A mother's love, there, emblems heaven. 
 
 There childhood's angel-kiss. 
 There childhood's angel-kiss, my dear, 
 
 There childhood's angel-kiss ; 
 A mother's love, there, emblems heaven, 
 
 There childhood's angel-kiss. 
 
 Ves, earth is yet an Eden-bower, 
 
 Where man may happy be, 
 Still sweetly Inlaws the auld wall-flower. 
 
 And waves ilk forest tree. 
 Still Eden's milk-white thorn appears 
 
 To deck the piiir man's yaird ; 
 The thistle stands wi' bristlin' spears. 
 
 His cottage door to guard. 
 His cottage door to guard, my dear, 
 
 His cottage door to guard ; 
 The thistle stands wi' bristlin' spears, 
 
 His cottage door to guard. 
 
 On earth we'll keep an Eden-bower, 
 
 And happy will we be, 
 Our lives make fragrant as the flower, 
 
 Majestic like the tree. 
 Round a' thing guid and a' thing kind 
 
 Our hearts shall ever twine ; 
 We'll fling a' wicked things behind, 
 
 And maist make life divine ; 
 And maist make life divine, my dear. 
 
 And maist make life divine. 
 We'll fling a' wicked things behind. 
 
 And maist make life divine ! 
 M
 
 17S Mjxstkelsy of the Merse. 
 
 Thk Tree and the Storm. 
 (Hitherto unpublished.] 
 I've seen the storm with anger beat 
 
 Against the lonely tree, 
 Until it swung and groaned as if 
 In mortal agony ! 
 
 Then stuklen lift itself erect, 
 
 Again defiant look, 
 As thoiigli the tempest's giant grasp 
 
 In scorn away it shook ! 
 
 Swift back the raging lilast returned, 
 And leapt upon the tree. 
 
 And, as two wrathful warriors, 
 They wrestled furiously ! 
 
 And deeper still the gallant tree 
 
 Planted its mighty feet, 
 As rushed and roared the savage storm. 
 
 And bough and stem did beat ! 
 
 Till pithless branch and sapless leaf 
 On high were hurled like dust, 
 
 Woe to the lonely wrestler, 
 Had these been all thy trust ! 
 
 But as they closed in sternest strife. 
 And twig and leaf fell fast, 
 
 Still stronger seemed the smitten tree. 
 And feebler seemed the blast ! 
 
 At last the tree, with lighten'd arms, 
 Could all the storm defy, 
 
 And mocked him Ijack into his caves, 
 A baffled enemy ! 
 
 The calm returned, the tree remained, 
 
 Majestic more by far. 
 The fading, worthless, only went 
 
 In that tempestuous war ! 
 
 Thus, thought I, fickle friends may leave 
 On Truth's rough battle-day, 
 
 \c\. nearer be the victory 
 
 When such have passed away !
 
 Rei'. Andkfif Cuyyixc/ZAM. 179 
 
 REV. ANDREW CUNNINGHAM. 
 1 8 19- 1 879. 
 
 ANDREW CUNNINGHAM was the youngest 
 son of William Cunningham, banker in Duns, 
 and cousin of the eminent Principal Cunningham, of 
 the Free Church College, Edinburgh. He was born 
 at Duns in 18 19, and received his education in the 
 academy of that town, Edinburgh High School, and 
 the University. Passing through the curriculum for 
 the ministry in the Church of Scotland, he was licensed 
 in 1842, but taking to the Free Church party, he was 
 in the following year ordained to the pastoral charge 
 of the first Free Church at Dundonald, in Ayrshire. 
 There he remained for two years, when he accepted 
 a call to the newly-formed congregation at Eccles, 
 in his native county, over which he faithfully presided 
 until his death. 
 
 Fie was known as an able preacher, a devoted 
 pastor, and a warm - hearted friend. He was a 
 valued leader in ecclesiastical affairs, and took a 
 prominent part in every movement tending to the 
 fuller development of his Church's work in the sphere 
 of social reform. He was a skilful scientist, and he 
 wrote poetry occasionally as a recreation. His 
 musings are chiefly in the sonnet form, and indicate 
 refined taste, good thought, and a capability of rising 
 to higher achievements in the divine art of poesy.
 
 l8o A/lXSTRFLSY OF THE M ERSE. 
 
 Knox. 
 
 A king of men behold : a man in truth — 
 
 Ay, every inch a man ; a spirit hold 
 
 But noble ; brave and warm of heart— not mid, 
 
 Not rough, unfeeling, rude — who, in his youth 
 
 To generous learning gave his soul away 
 
 With all a lover's deep devotion : who 
 
 Stood for his country and his kind ; and through 
 
 llvil and good report ujiheld the sway 
 
 (.)f what was true and just ; and founded all 
 
 On Christ's Evangel pure : having no fear 
 
 \\'hat man could do : and not prepared to fall 
 
 And worship despots even if death were near : 
 
 Not moved by blandishment in ri)yal call, 
 
 Nor by fair face wet with deceitful tear. 
 
 L t' I' 1 1 E K . I 
 
 Strong monk of Wittenberg, thy homely face ' 
 
 And firm-set figure are the very type I 
 
 Of what thou wroughtest for all time : the trace 
 
 Is still of thee, and of thy sturdy gripe 
 
 l-lven on the Book thy labour first revealed 
 
 'I"o Europe and mankind : G(Krs truth, concealed ^ 
 
 I'jy priestly guile, thou forth in language ripe 
 
 Did'st send to German homes : and darkness fled 
 
 Erom Haifa world : and Rome's blood stood congealed — 
 
 Iler very heart ceasing to beat, stone dead 
 
 In blank dismay, while on the message sped 
 
 Erom town to castle ; they who in the field 
 
 Trained vines, or tilled the ground, the toil-bent head 
 
 Raised heavenward as they read in straw-roofed shed.
 
 JOH.V G/BSO.V. l8l 
 
 JOHN GIBSON. 
 1819-1882. 
 
 JOHN GIBSON, son of James Gibson and Barbara 
 Muir, was born at Greenlaw, 24th December, 
 1 8 19. After leaving school he wrought for a 
 number of years with his father, who, for nearly 
 half a century, carried on a tailoring business in the 
 village. Latterly, he was employed as a colporteur 
 under the Religious Tract Society of Scotland, 
 during which period he resided at East Linton. In 
 early life he showed indications of poetic taste, and 
 contributed frequently to local newspapers. In 1875 
 he published a volume of his productions under the 
 title of " Poems, Grave and Gay," which had a wide 
 circulation. 1 He was a man of high character and 
 sterling worth. His poetry echoes with honest senti- 
 ment and breathes a spirit of fervent piety, while 
 here and there, in his lighter moods, he is exceedingly 
 happy, and displays many excellent touches of bright, 
 racy, good humour. Gibson died at Edinburgh, in 
 January, 1882. 
 
 Take Lm'-e as we Find It. 
 
 We'll wait till doomsday ere we make 
 
 Things marshal oor ain way ; 
 Ills oot life's lucky-bag we'll take, 
 
 Nor cry, " Alack-a-day !" 
 Life at the best's a ravell'd pirn, 
 
 With patience let's unwind it : 
 If fortune go\\\ we maumia girn, 
 
 But take life as we find it. 
 
 ^ Small 8vo. Haddington.
 
 iS:! MixsTRELsy of the Merse. 
 
 If wc h;itl this, if \vc had that, 
 
 I loo happy wad we be ! 
 Oor outward fortune, without faut, 
 
 Kach o' us langs to sec. 
 Yet, though our hame were gilt wi' gold, 
 
 Iloart-griefs might come behind it ; 
 Heaven may, to smite, our plans unfold. 
 
 Sac take life as we hnd it. 
 
 If friends forsake, we'll do oor best 
 
 To make their love return ; 
 If puir, oor hands will never rest 
 
 Till fortune cease to spurn. 
 But if our striving be in vain, 
 
 We'll whistle and ne'er mind it. 
 We've a' that's gude if Heaven remain. 
 
 And life just as we find it. 
 
 One grieves so little progress made, 
 
 So little ground we gain. 
 Condemned to roam the lengthening shade. 
 
 In hardship, woe, and pain. 
 Needful such frictions to the soul, 
 
 To polish and to grind it ; 
 We'll know, when wc have reached the goal. 
 
 Why life is as we find it. 
 
 Young lads at school, strong men at work. 
 
 Maids singing all the day. 
 Wives full of married troubles, hark 
 
 And ponder what I say. 
 Your soul, though e'en to wealth ye clind). 
 
 Let not delusion blind it, 
 The present is your happiest lime — 
 
 Then take life as ye find it. 
 
 There shines some light on every lot. 
 
 Thank Heaven, whate'er your store. 
 Though by proud fashion's ranks forgot, 
 
 God's mercies find the door — 
 The soul to its life-task (iod-given. 
 
 Through grief and toil to bind it, 
 And leave, by deeds for man and heaven. 
 
 Life better than we find it.
 
 w 
 
 W/LIJAM FORSVTl/. 183 
 
 WILLIAM FORSYTH. 
 
 1 823- 1 889. 
 
 ILLIAM FORSYTH was bom at Earlston 
 in 1823. His father, who came of an old 
 Covenanting family, was a man much respected in 
 the district, and strove to inculcate into his children 
 his own deep religious convictions. While yet a 
 child young Forsyth removed with his parents to 
 Galashiels. After leaving school he wrought for a 
 time as a spinner in Galabank Mill, and diligently 
 applied his spare hours to self-improvement. He 
 read much on questions of social and political 
 importance, debated keenly on co-operative and tem- 
 perance movements, and thus laid the foundation 
 of his future useful and honoured career. At this 
 time he very frequently contributed to the local 
 newspapers articles and letters on a variety of 
 subjects, sometimes venturing to address his readers 
 in rhyme. After leaving Galashiels he spent a few 
 years in Edinburgh, and thence proceeded to Aber- 
 deen, where he established a prosperous temperance 
 hotel. In 1863 he opened the Cobden Hotel in 
 Glasgow, which soon became, under his management, 
 of great proportions and world-wide fame. In 1885 
 he stood as a candidate in the Liberal interest for 
 the Bridgeton division of Glasgow, but failed to find 
 a majorit}\ His death took place at Bridge of 
 Allan, where he had gone for the benefit of his 
 health, 28th May, 1889. He was thrice married,
 
 184 Mjxstkelsv of the Mekse. 
 
 and is survived by a family of four sons and four 
 daughters. 
 
 William Forsyth was all his life fond of literature, 
 and held correspondence with several well-known 
 journalists and authors. He was on intimate terms 
 with Russell, of The Scotsman, and the great Border 
 angler, Thomas Tod Stoddart. In 1887 he published 
 "A Lay of Loch Leven,"^ dedicated to the Glasgow 
 Anglers' Association, which is profusely illustrated 
 with members' portraits. The following are the 
 introductory lines to the " Lay: " 
 
 Loch Leven's old historic tide, 
 Wliich erst had sheltered Scotland's pride I 
 \Vhcn strife and turmoil shook the throne, 
 Retreat was found in island lone. 
 The old grey keep, the castle hoar, 
 Still seen from Leven's sedgy shore, 
 Draws pilgrims from each foreign clime, 
 To gaze on that, which, in its prime. 
 Imprisoned .Scotland's hapless queen, 
 Unrobed an<l reft of royal sheen. 
 
 Wliat tlioughls were hers? Ah ! who can tell 
 
 \\'hat tumults wild her bosom swell ! 
 
 What wild'ring fears and doulHs arise. 
 
 To wound l,cr licart, to clf)U(l lier eyes ! 
 
 I-'r<im palace driven to loncsf)me keep, 
 
 To pine alone in anguish deeji ; 
 
 Imprisoned, captive, held in tlirali, 
 
 Xor longer courted, loved by all ; 
 
 An outcast caged in lonely isle, 
 
 Nought left to soothe or to beguile 
 
 The tedium of her hajiless fate. 
 
 To shield her 'gainst a faction's hate. 
 
 ' " A Lay of Loch Leven." By William o' ye West. 8vo. (ilasgow : 
 Forrester
 
 JViLLiAM Forsyth. 185 
 
 Dark wuic lior thoughts, her piospecls drear, 
 No ray of hope to gild or cheer ; 
 No longer peers and courtiers bow, 
 Or gallant yeomen take the vow ; 
 Torn from the pomp she prized ere while, 
 Reft of her crown— all regal style- 
 Denied the homage of a smile. 
 
 Willi blighted hope and broken crest. 
 Doomed with the mean to herd and rest. 
 Withdrawn the warrior's proffered aid — 
 His life, his honour, and his blade. 
 No minstrel's tale salutes her ear, 
 Silenced the harp she loved so dear ; 
 No courtiers fain her presence throng. 
 To fling the jest or raise the song. 
 Ah ! brilliant scenes, so joyous, gay, 
 To irksome solitude give way: 
 Pent and immured in hated keep. 
 Nought left but o'er the past to weep. 
 While base-born kerns keep watch and ward 
 O'er captive, held close under guard, 
 (Mow fitful fortune's changeful way. 
 By fickle freaks in one brief day, 
 Steals from our grasp the joys we prize. 
 Wounds the sad heart and blinds the eyes !) 
 
 At dark, ere day had closed its eye, 
 She sought retreat in turret high — 
 Retreat from menial's prying gaze — 
 To muse on bright or better days. 
 To Leven's placid western flow, 
 'Neath setting sun's soft amber glow. 
 Restful and calm, assuaged her woe. 
 Pensive and sad she seized the lyre, 
 This plaint of mingled grief and ire 
 Poured slowly forth through blinding tears, 
 And told, as caught by listening ears, 
 To men through long-descending years.
 
 lS6 M/NSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Tin-: CoTiAc.E i!y thk Quarry. 
 
 Wliat though no flowers our cot embowers, 
 
 Our biggin' auld and hoary, 
 It iias the charm o' leal hearts warm, 
 
 O' mirth, o' sang, and story. 
 
 There aft we sing till rafters ring, 
 And laud wi' rapturous feeling, 
 
 Our snug wee stead so near the Tweed, 
 Our cosie fishing shieling. 
 
 There frien's we meet wha gladly greet 
 Wi' eye o' welcome gleaming ; 
 
 We gather there, so free o' care. 
 Our cot wi' kindness beaming. 
 
 Ilk lisliing splore in days of yore. 
 Ilk wondrous take and capture — 
 
 The lengthen'd run, the nichts o' fun, 
 Rehearsed wi' idndling rapture. 
 
 The homely cheer, the mcm'ries dear, 
 
 O' days that wouldna tarry. 
 Endears the spot where Geordie's cot 
 
 Snug nestles by the quarry.
 
 Peter M'Craket. 187 
 
 PETER M'CRAKET. 
 1827-1882. 
 
 PETER M'CRAKET, son of Alexander 
 M'Craket and Elizabeth Sanderson, was born 
 at Lambden, near Greenlaw, in 1827. His great- 
 grandfather was of Highland blood, and originally 
 belonged to the Clan Cameron, while his father was 
 a small farmer near Earlston, and latterly a wool- 
 dealer and feuar in Greenlaw. Peter received a very 
 limited education, but by dint of perseverance he 
 assiduously applied himself during his occupation of 
 " herd laddie " to his intellectual improvement, with 
 such success that in a short time he had mastered the 
 leading facts of Scottish history, and had acquired 
 a considerable acquaintance with the great English 
 and Scottish writers. He was for a time apprenticed 
 to a draper, but not liking this employment, he went 
 to Edinburgh, and, adding to his growing store of 
 knowledge, commenced teaching at Abbeyhill. In 
 1847 he was appointed master of the Free Church 
 School in the Canongate, and shortly afterwards he 
 became headmaster of the Free New North Church 
 District School, where he remained for four years. 
 In 1853 he was elected headmaster of John Street 
 School, Greenock, a position which he occupied with 
 great credit and success until his death in 1882. 
 
 He wrote a large number of poems and songs, 
 chiefly the former, which were printed onl}- in
 
 iSS AflNSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 local ncusijapcrs and lioine journals. They arc 
 characterised by sweetness of diction, tenderness, 
 and sympathy, and impress the reader with the idea 
 that their author was a man full of love for Nature, 
 and of that higher love to the God of Nature which 
 is best seen in the spirit that seeks to elevate 
 humanity in the direction of goodness, truth, and 
 beaut}'. 
 
 TlIK Lammermook lIlI.l.S. 
 
 Though stately the hills in the North and the South, 
 No hills are to me like the hills o' my youth ; 
 There joys have an echo that time never stills 
 Frae the glens i' the bosom o' Lammermoor hills. 
 
 Tlie steed o' the victor ance pranced on tlieir plain, 
 An' his red l)anner waved owcr the spoils o' the slain ; 
 ]-"or the camps by yon corries and dark mossy rills 
 -V tell o' the Romans on Lammermoor hills. 
 
 Their wild heathy fells hae the cairns o' gloom, 
 Wi' the tales o' the perished or weird woman's doom, 
 An' the birds o' the muirland wi' lang crookit bills 
 Cryin' roun' them sae waefu' on Lammermoor hills. 
 
 The liills <V my liame where I lived an' I lo'ed — 
 Where I herded the sheep, an' the blaeberries pu'ed ; 
 As aft as I see them my heart and e'e fills 
 With the tliochts o' langsyne on the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 The glad smile o' simmer wad light their black brows 
 
 As we played like the lambs 'mang the green hazel howes, 
 
 An' fished wi' a preen in the dam by the mills 
 
 Till the red sun gaed doon ower the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 Krae the blast that blew keen on the heathery dale 
 I can mind o' the shielin' wecl thackit wi' feal, 
 An' the cosie red peal-fire that cauld an* care kills 
 To the lad wi' the plaid on the I>ammermoor hills.
 
 Peter M-Craket. 189 
 
 The hiv'rocks and linties are dear aye to nie, 
 As they sing frac the clouds on the bor.nie ha' tree, 
 But their sang ower the heather lilce May-dew (Hsiils 
 On m\ heart never dowie on Lanimcnnoor hills. 
 
 O, the sangs that they sung in our young days o' yore, 
 Ilk brood tak's the keynote and sings as before, 
 The true love and friendship that time never chills — 
 There's music for me 'mang the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 I lo'e the wild flowers by the brake an' the lea. 
 But nane smiles sae sweet an' sae charmin' to me, 
 Or sends to my bosom sic rapturous thrills. 
 As the heather that blooms on the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 O, gie me yon cot by the green burn side ! 
 
 Wi' health and contentment "twad be a' my pride ; 
 
 My harp wad be tuned by the birds and the rills, 
 
 And my muse wad be nursed by the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 Dark changes hae left their deep trace on our brows, 
 .Sin' we left the lane hoose 'mang the green gorsy knowes ; 
 But time kindly spares, wi' its furrows and drills, 
 The face aye the same o' the Lammermoor hills. 
 
 The sun of my youth is now rounded and set, 
 But the haunts of my childhood are dear to me yet. 
 Like friends fresh and fadeless through life and its ills. 
 To welcome me back to the Lammermoor hills.
 
 IQO MlXSTRELSV OF THE ATeRSE. 
 
 THOMAS WATTS. 
 1 845- 1 886. 
 
 THOMAS WATTS was a native of Ireland, but 
 from the age of eleven months until the day 
 of his death he resided almost entirely in Berwick- 
 shire. His whole being was saturated with the 
 scenes and history of the Merse: he loved its people, 
 he sang its praises, and thus in a very true sense we 
 claim him as a Berwickshire bard. He was born on 
 the 5th March, 1845, at Wexford Barracks, where his 
 father was a soldier and the trusted servant of Colonel 
 Logan Home, of Broomhouse, at that time an officer 
 in the Royal Marines. On the colonel's retirement, 
 Watts obtained his discharge, and followed his 
 master to Berwickshire. Young Thomas received his 
 education at Duns, and in his fourteenth year entered 
 upon an apprenticeship as a tailor in the same town. 
 W^hen the four years were completed he resolved to 
 .see life, and travelled through the chief cities of the 
 kingdom, working for a brief period in each. During 
 his leisure hours he devoted himself to reading and 
 general intellectual improvement. He became a 
 first-rate English scholar and formed a taste for 
 poetry. Then he began to write verse himself In 
 summer time he would repair to the banks of the 
 Whitadder, and there, .surrounded by the full beauty 
 of Nature, in some quiet and shady nook, his thoughts 
 .shajjcd themselves into rhyme. Many of these 
 effusions found their way into the columns of the
 
 Thomas Watts. 191 
 
 local newspapers, and in 1880 he published a selec- 
 tion, under the title of "Woodland Echoes,"^ which 
 was cordially received in the county. " It will now 
 be more than ever prized as a memorial of one whose 
 fine imagination, keen appreciation of Nature, dainty 
 execution, high moral character, and early death will 
 make his work and his memory ever tenderly 
 cherished." In 1883 Watts paid a long-desired 
 visit to London, and worked there for a little over 
 two years. But his health, never robust, began to 
 give way; a severe cold developed into consumption, 
 and he returned to his home and friends by the banks 
 of the Whitaddcr. Four months later he was laid 
 to rest in the little churchyard of Edrom. The 
 singer's voice is hushed, but the sweet cadence of his 
 song yet lingers to gladden the memories of loved 
 ones left behind, and there are few in the fair Merse 
 land who knew him well that do not remember with 
 keen delight and heart-felt gratitude the pleasant 
 companionship, and the bracing, ennobling friendship 
 of such a man as Thomas Watts, humble in station, 
 but very high in worth. 
 
 The Friend of Bygone Days. 
 
 Oh ! rowan tree, 
 
 Ve bring to me 
 Sweet visions o' the past ; 
 
 That tremble back 
 
 O'er memory's track, 
 Like sunbeams 'mid the blast ; 
 
 i8vo. Kelso: J. & J. H. Rutherfurd.
 
 ig2 J//.vsrR/:/.s)- of the M/:rse. 
 
 'Twas hero, ere cliildliood's years were lied, 
 In the autumn's gloaniin" Im/.c, 
 
 I cam' to pree thy berries red 
 With tlie friend of bygone days. 
 
 Oh ! rowan tree, 
 I've stood by thee 
 In the lang-gane summer hours. 
 When whisp'ring gales, 
 Like lovers' tales, 
 Sigh'd 'mong thy virgin flowers : 
 In hopeful boyhood here I dream'd 
 
 Aught hwi the warld's ways ; 
 Sae couthy, kind the warld seem'd 
 With the friend of liygone days. 
 
 Oh I rowan tree, 
 Again I see. 
 Through the mist of memory's tear, 
 A pairtin' scene. 
 Where freends had been 
 .Sae hap]iy and sae dear ; 
 The glcjamin' had chas'd the last day-beam. 
 
 And a cauld mist happ'd the braes, 
 When I Ijid farewell to the valley stream 
 And the friend of bygone days. 
 
 Oh I rowan tree, 
 There canna be, 
 'Mang a' the scenes that vie, 
 With charms combin'd, 
 To soothe the mind. 
 Or please the captive eye, 
 A scene like this, where now I roam 
 
 In l-"ancy's fairy maze. 
 Through the dear old lane, by the valley home, 
 With the friend of bygone days.
 
 Thom. \s Watts. 19; 
 
 Oh I rowan tree, 
 What wad I gi'e 
 If my fondest wish could wile 
 Frae yon far place 
 The aiild kent face, 
 And the same auld kindly smile ? 
 But, no ; though I ken that place be fair — 
 
 Too fair for a mortal's gaze — 
 In the " l)y-and-by " I may wander there 
 With the friend of bygone days. 
 
 Winter Evenings. 
 
 When all without, the wintry blast 
 Comes sweeping 'long the lanes ; 
 When showers of drifted sleet are cast 
 
 Against the lattice panes ; 
 When wildly from the upland heights 
 
 The sounding tempest's hurl'd, 
 Drear as the screams of wand'ring sprites 
 From some strange, ruined world : 
 Oh ! the cosy winter evenings, 
 How pleasantly they glide ; 
 The love of Heaven was surely given 
 To bless the ingle-side. 
 
 Not warmer glows the crimson flame 
 
 That leaps in clfin mirth. 
 Throwing out its arms to clasp in love 
 
 Those cluster'd round the hearth, 
 Than are the happy hearts, whose joys 
 
 Home's social comforts prove ; 
 Nor brighter than the sparkling eyes 
 Reflecting purest love. 
 Oh ! the social winter evenings. 
 
 What pleasures ye inspire ; 
 Care's shadows pass, and vanish as 
 We gather round the fire. 
 N
 
 '94 
 
 MiNSTKELsy OF THE Merse. 
 
 ^Vhat memories throng the sacred place- 
 Life's calendars that show 
 The outlines fair of many a face 
 
 We cherished long ago— 
 'Twas here Hope waved her fairy wand 
 
 To lure the buoyant heart, 
 When many a fort was traced and plann'd 
 Upon life's glowing chart. 
 
 Oh ! the hallow'd winter evenings 
 
 Of our childhood far away, 
 How fair ye seem, and brightly beam 
 On Memory's dial to-day. 
 
 What though 'mid other scenes we roam, 
 
 When Christmastide draws near, 
 Affection guides our footsteps home 
 
 'Mid recollections dear ; 
 And as we meet those kindred eyes, 
 
 With tender meaning fraught. 
 We feel that round the circle lies 
 A realm of loving thought. 
 
 Oh ! the homely winter evenings, 
 
 May we, from wants secure, 
 With Christ-like will remember still 
 The hungry, homeless poor. 
 
 OoR Wkf. Wkan. 
 
 The canty Spring is past, 
 
 The Simmer's worn dune. 
 While .Vutumn's soughin' blast 
 
 Tells Winter's comin' sune ; 
 Ay ! sune the cauld, white snaw will hap 
 
 Yon wee, wee mound again, 
 To rest, like mournfu' mem'ries, roond 
 
 Oor ae wee wean.
 
 Thoma s J Va rrs. 195 
 
 An' life's glad clay is by, 
 
 Wi' a' its lo'esome smiles ; 
 Sail tliochts, like shadows, lie 
 
 Across the prospect whiles ; 
 Ay ! dreich an' dowie's been oor lot. 
 
 An' fraught wi' niuckle pain. 
 Sin' yon dool day we pairtit wi' 
 
 Oor ain wee wean. 
 
 Ve mind the happy day 
 
 We wander'd ower the lea 
 To Markle's whinny brae, 
 
 Oor coortin' place to see? 
 A wee geni nestled on thy breist — 
 
 A fairer there was nane — 
 The sinless pledge o' wedded love, 
 
 That sweet wee wean. 
 
 We sat beside the breir. 
 
 Near the auld trystin' tree, 
 While something like a tear 
 
 Shone softly in your e'e ; 
 I watch'd its peerless beauty as 
 
 Ye weav'd the daisy chain. 
 An' wreath'd it ower the curly liroo 
 
 O' oor wee wean. 
 
 I saw that simmer night — 
 
 I think I see it noo — 
 A soft and holy light 
 
 Illume thy thochtfu' broo ; 
 I couldna ken what 'twas that mov'd 
 
 A mither's hairt sae fain — 
 Some lo'esome spell that circles roond 
 
 The first wee wean. 
 
 Oh ! mind ye hoo we stood 
 
 Ootside the shielin' door, 
 A-list'nin' unco prood 
 
 Her pawky baby -lore?
 
 19^ M/XSTKELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Wc kentna sync in a' llic wml' 
 
 A bonnier, sweeter strain, 
 Than infant lispings as they fell 
 
 P'rae oor wee wean. 
 
 An' nu)ny a fear we've dree'il, 
 
 When afl'the cutty chair 
 She'd (hint her little heiil 
 
 Upon the yirthen Hair ; 
 l-"or mony a trial an' fa' she liacl 
 
 Ere she could gang her lane ; 
 Ah ! methinks there's mony aulder anes 
 
 Like that wee wean. 
 
 When Winter days cam" itinn'. 
 
 An' nichts were wearin' lang, 
 To her ye'd sit and croon 
 
 Some simple cradle-sang ; 
 Till, sleepin' soon', we'd breathe the prayer 
 
 Faith never breath'd in vain, 
 And gied to Heaven the keepin' o' 
 
 Oor wee, wee wean. 
 
 An' often wad we sit 
 
 Lang at the ingle side, 
 While ower thy face wad flit 
 
 A sunny smile o' jiride. 
 As oft ye wad in fondness shape 
 
 Some project o' yer ain. 
 Some plan anent the future weal 
 
 O' oor wee wean . 
 
 Hut, oh ! that nicht sae drear, 
 
 'Twill never be forgot. 
 While mony a joyless tear 
 
 Revives the memory o't. 
 Toom is the wee, wee cottie noo 
 
 Where, lauchin', she has lain. 
 While cauld's the snawy shroud that haps 
 
 Oor ae wee wean.
 
 Thomas Wat-is. 197 
 
 Vet there's ae comforl still, 
 
 It's calm'd me mony a day ; 
 'Twill lighten a' life's ill, 
 
 And soothe the hairt when wae ; 
 Ay ! tho' we've tint life's dearest joys 
 
 In what we coiildna hain, 
 A laniniic in the Shepherd's fauhl 
 
 Is cor wee wean.
 
 198 AflNSTRELSy OF THE AT ERSE. 
 
 WALTER cms HOLM. 
 1856-1877. 
 
 WALTER CHISIIOLM was bom on 21st 
 December, 1856, at Easter Hovvlaw, near 
 Chiniside, where his father was a shepherd. At the 
 Whitsunday of 1865 the family "flitted" to Red- 
 heugh, a farm in Cockburnspath parish, and young 
 Walter attended, until his twelfth year, the little 
 school of Oldcambus, then under the kindly rule of 
 Mr. William Cairns. At that age he became assistant 
 to his father. In 1875 the family removed to Dowlaw, 
 a neighbouring farm, and our poet took a term of 
 shepherding near the gipsy village of Yetholm. In 
 the winter he returned home, and attended for a time 
 his old school. In the spring of 1876 he went to 
 Glasgow, and found employment as light porter in a 
 leather warehouse. At the end of this year, when on 
 a visit to his parents, he was suddenly seized with a 
 severe attack of pleurisy; and, though he rallied a 
 little during the spring and summer, there was no 
 hope of ultimate recovery, and he passed peacefully 
 away on 1st October, 1877, a few months before 
 comjjleting his twenty-first year. 
 
 Had Weaker Chisholm lived he would undoubtedly 
 have taken a high place among Scottish poets. 
 What he has left is amply sufficient to convince us of 
 this. His life is another example of how much a 
 man's environment will influence the inner being.
 
 Walter CinsiioL.-\f. 199 
 
 A herd laddie on the borders of Coldingham Moor, 
 and daily in the midst of Nature's many charms, it 
 is little wonder that a soul like his should have 
 expressed its feelings in song. He has given us 
 many bright touches of perfect poetry thrilling with 
 the music of country life, full of honest sentiment, 
 appealing to our noblest emotions and our loftiest 
 ideals, bidding us mould our lives in conformity with 
 the most lasting good. This Berwickshire shepherd 
 lad is an optimist in the highest sense of the term. 
 He sings his own experience. Much of sorrow and 
 suffering has been his lot ; but these are only means 
 to a great end. They are to act as the discipline of 
 life, and to accomplish its perfection. He is confident 
 that in all the affairs of this shifting scene there is that 
 " Divinity which shapes our ends, rough hew them 
 how we will," and by virtue of this faith he can sing 
 in exulting strains : " This, then, is the true solution 
 of human life. All things are controlled by an All- 
 Power Providence. God is good, and surely His 
 goodness shall ' fall at last, far off to all, and every 
 winter chani^e to spring.' " All the events of man's 
 daily existence are wisely ordered, and not a single 
 item shall fail of the divinely-appointed plan. 
 
 " All's well, 
 
 God's in the heavens." 
 
 Walter Chisholm's "Poems" were published in 
 1879 i" ^ "63.t little volume^ edited by his old friend 
 and teacher, Mr. William Cairns, brother of the late 
 Principal Cairns. 
 
 ^ Small 8vo. Edinburgh : James Thin.
 
 200 MlX-iTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Scotia's Border Land. 
 
 Nae gentle muse will I invoke frae famed Parnassus' hill, 
 
 To make my rhyme glide saft alang, and smooth each rugged line ; 
 Nae high strung lay, for guerdon gay, shall task my rustic skill ; 
 
 A hamely heart, a hamely harp, a hamely sang is mine. 
 I'll sing in the braid Doric tongue a lilt o' iiill an" glen — 
 
 O' muirlands wide and rocky dells, an' mountains green an' gram! ; 
 ril sing o' rivers winding fair, through mony a dowie den. 
 
 O'er a* the storied length an' breadth o' " Scotia's Border L'-.nd I "' 
 
 From where, \\\Mm the eastern coast, the ocean floods before 
 
 St. Abb's his rocky barrier rears deep-seamed wi' mony a scaur — 
 To where far Solway cl)bs an' flows upon the sounding shore, 
 
 Fame gilds the land wi' gowden light — a nevcr-settin' star. 
 O.'t has the yeoman's slogan cry re-echoed through her vales, 
 
 \\ hen on her soil a Southron foe had daretl to take his stand ; 
 And oft the stalwart Foresters have troojied from hills an' dales, 
 
 And boldly dare 1, or nol)]y died, for " Scotia's Border Land ! " 
 
 \\'hcn from her highest mountain tops, around both far an' near, 
 
 With fiery tongues the beacons sent the tidings of the fray. 
 The shepherd seized the barbed crook, the hind the ready spear, 
 
 And to the chieftain's banner thronged to swell his fair array. 
 Prom Liddel-side, in warrior i)ride, the doughty Elliot rode. 
 
 And bold Buccleugh, 'mid kinsmen true, left Teviot's classic strand ; 
 From silvery Tweed Home's battle steed before his Merse-men strode, 
 
 And many a laurel wreath was won for " .Scotia's Border Land." 
 
 Then when tlie tempest brewed at Rome burst un the wondering world, 
 
 \\'hen blood of martyr dyed the ground and priestly rage was high, 
 Within her verdant valleys was the Covenant flag unfurled ; 
 
 A bright and sunny .spot she .shone in that dark cloudy sky. 
 Where was it that the Psalms were raised, as gloaming shades cam' 
 doon, 
 
 By buirdly men whose hands held baith the Bible an' the brand? 
 Where was it kingly Cameron won the holy martyr's crf)on ? 
 
 But 'mang the moors an' mosses wild o' " Scotia's Border Land ! "
 
 -Walter Cms holm. 201 
 
 There, guardian o'er fair Mercia's liounds, dun Lammerlaw is seen, 
 
 Chief o' the hills that bear his name, a gallant train I trow ; 
 There Cheviot rules his craggy- peaks, a giant broad and green — 
 
 The traces of a thousand years deep furrowed on his brow — 
 There dark and heathy Ruberslaw towers silent and alone, 
 
 There Kildon shows his triple crest hewn by a master hand, 
 And many a hundred storied hills and many a lofty cone 
 
 Proclaim the glorj' and renown of " Scotia's Border Land I " 
 
 hnmortal l>ards have praised her worth in many a fadeless strain, 
 
 Have sung the hallowed memories o' a' her winding streams — 
 Strains that can kindle aged hearts wi' youthful fire again, 
 
 And memories bright that tinge wi' light the lanely exile's dreams. 
 O ! glorious land of love and truth, of song and battle fame ! 
 
 Where each grey cairn's a hero's grave thrice touched by glory's 
 wand ! 
 My heart aye bounds wi' quickened throb at mention o' thy name. 
 
 The wale o' Freedom's pioneers, fair " Scotia's Border Land 1" 
 
 OoR Only Bairn ie. 
 
 Laddie I wi' the lauchin' e'e I 
 
 Bonnie, blythsome, little sonny, 
 Wha cou'd help frae likin' thee? — 
 
 Aye sae pawkie, sweet, an' funny : 
 Thro' the hoose the lee-lang day. 
 
 Hear his gleesome prattle ringin' — 
 Bent on naething but his play, 
 
 An' his sang sae sweetly singin' ! 
 
 Manmiie there her bairnie sees, 
 
 riayin' aye sae bricht and canny, 
 Whiles a kindly word she gies. 
 
 Whiles she chides her little mamiy I 
 See him wi' his faither's hat 
 
 Stickin' on his saucy croonie I 
 Off wi't nool— I kenna what 
 
 I'm to dae wi' sic a loonie.
 
 202 MiXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 In oor hame ye micht hae seen 
 
 Twa-three weeks sin' sic a laddie, 
 But sin' syne has trouble been — 
 
 Left us naething but his shaddie : 
 White as snaw his shilpit cheeks 
 
 Reft o' a' their bonnie roses, 
 Laigh his voice whene'er he speaks, 
 
 Een that lang e'er bed-time closes. 
 
 Puir wee chap ! the stangs o' jmin 
 
 Thro' the nights sae lang and drearie, 
 Nocht hae left but skin an' bane 
 
 O' that form sac blythe an' chccrie; 
 But that blight noo off we'll ca' — ■ 
 
 Mammie ! Fill the parritch coggie I 
 Chase that shilpit wean awa ! 
 
 Bring again oor lauchin' roguey ! 
 
 "It Miciit Be Mucki.f. Waur." 
 
 fain wad I that Fortune fair 
 Wad deign to smile on me. 
 
 An' wi' my lip I fain wad try 
 Her honeyed cup to prce: 
 
 But ne'er a Idink o' Fortune's e'c 
 E'er comes my airt ava', 
 
 An' at the bitter cup o' fate 
 My mou' I still maun thraw. 
 
 1 find, as Ihro' the warld sae wide 
 
 I daunder up an' doon, 
 He wha has routh o' gudes an' gear, 
 
 Aye bauds the causey's croon ; 
 While mony men, wi' nobler minds, 
 
 An' hearts mair tried an' true. 
 Maun toil aneath the froon that lurks 
 
 On snell Misfortune's broo !
 
 Walter Cms holm. -03 
 
 Tliis life's a jumble at the best, 
 
 Some sing while others moan, 
 Ana fa's, anither fills his place, 
 
 An' sae the wheel rowes on ; 
 Some toil wi' hard an' horny hands, 
 
 An' some wi' weary brain, 
 Some dine on choicest venison, 
 
 While ithcrs pick the bane ! 
 
 But should we fa', an' ithers climb 
 
 To where we ance hae stood, 
 Let's mind that ilka backward thraw 
 
 Is gi'en us for oor good : 
 There's naething e'er sae ill, 1-ut that 
 
 It micht be muckle waur; 
 An' Perseverance cleaves a way 
 
 Thro' mony a rocky scaur. 
 
 Then fret na, freends, where'er we steer. 
 
 Nor at oor lot repine, 
 The helm is held by higher hands 
 
 Than either yours or mine ; 
 But thro' the strife we 11 strive to keep 
 
 A conscience bricht an' clear, 
 An' bless the Hand that gi'es us health 
 
 To fecht life's battle here. 
 
 An' shou'd the dull an' darklin' cluds 
 
 O' Care come owre the sky. 
 We'll cower aneath some bieldy bush, 
 - An' let the blast blaw by : 
 Then on, wi' Temperance for oor shield. 
 
 An' Hope oor guidin' star. 
 An' sing — there's nocht sae ill, but that 
 
 " It micht be muckle waur."
 
 2 04 Mjxstkelsv of the Merse. 
 
 TiiK MissKij Tryst. 
 
 She trysted there to meet \\\ liini 
 
 Between the liclil an' mirk, 
 When e'enin's shadows grey an' grim 
 
 Swathed auld St. Helen's Kirk ; 
 An' sune as e'er the sun had sunk 
 
 Beyond the purple fell, 
 Altho' the nicht was wat an' caidd, 
 \Vi' lowin' heart he left the fauld, 
 
 An' socht the rocky dell. 
 
 Time dragged alang fu' wearily — 
 
 The trystin' hour gaed liy, 
 I Ic heard the sad sough o' the sea — 
 
 1 le heard tlie fox's cry ! 
 " Oh I has she feared to face llic nicht? 
 
 Or has she lost her way? 
 The Lan'sea links are lang an' steep, 
 The mermaid's floe baith braid an' deep— 
 
 Gude send it be na sae I' 
 
 \\'\ hurried steps he left the glen, 
 
 An' socht the rocky shore, 
 Where wildly roon' the smuggler's den 
 
 The seethin' waters roar ; 
 Is that a sea-bird's scream he hears ! 
 
 What form? what face is there? 
 He [ilunges in — he clasps her form ; 
 Though wilder blaws the blindin' storm — 
 
 They'll miss their tryst nae mair 1 
 
 Next morn when rose the sun. the lea 
 
 In summer beauty smiled, 
 The winds were hushed, the changin' sea 
 
 Had calmed her waters wild: 
 They found ihcm on the rocky Ijeacli, 
 
 An' l)ore them up the steep; 
 By Helen's Kirk a mound is seen. 
 An' 'neath its canojjy o' green 
 
 A lang, lang tryst they keep 1
 
 Mjss Tough axd Mrs. Lorimer. 205 
 
 MARGARET HAY HOME TOUGH. 
 MARY ANNE LORIMER. 
 
 THE following compositions arc tlic work of two 
 sisters, daughters of the Rev. George Tough, 
 for many years minister of A)'ton. On their mother's 
 side they were connected with the ancient family of 
 the Berwickshire Homes. In 185 1 there appeared a 
 small volume from the pen of the first, entitled " The 
 Offering," and in 1864, the year following her death, 
 a second was issued under the superintendence of 
 her remaining sister, bearing the title of " Gathered 
 Eragments." Miss M. A. Tough became the wife of 
 the beloved Dr. Lorimer, of Haddington, and was 
 herself an occasional writer of verse, mainly of a 
 religious nature. 
 
 The Famh.y Gatiiekinc. 
 
 Deep thoughts are in those gallierint^s 
 
 Of friends at festive times, 
 Tliat 'mid the lighter play of life 
 
 Wake low and solemn chimes. 
 As some cathedral bell is iieard 
 
 Amid the village glee, 
 Or some faint murmur borne along 
 
 Of the far-sounding sea. 
 
 From wanderings in many lands, 
 
 l-'rom scenes of many hues, 
 I-'rom the rose-bowers and the tangled brake. 
 
 The frost blights and the dews ; 
 From memories of other homes, 
 
 'J'hat will not wear away, 
 From the ringing echoes of the past, 
 
 'Mid the strains of a later day :
 
 !06 MiXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 They gather round llic fcslnl board, 
 
 Willi glowing hearts and glad, 
 And they smile and sing the hours away 
 
 Too gaily to be sad. 
 But is there not a yearning, 
 
 A sound like the night-wind's moan, 
 In the haunted chamber of the heart — 
 
 A low, deep undertone — 
 
 For the fellowship of other days, 
 
 P'or the links of broken chains, 
 For the old familiar faces, now 
 
 In the halls where silence reigns? 
 Yes I though a goodly gathering. 
 
 With greetings keen, are met — 
 All are not there of the oklen time. 
 
 And the heart doth not forsret. 
 
 M. II. II. T. 
 
 .MV LONCINCS. 
 
 I long for a breath of my native air, 
 With a perfume of flowers borne on the breeze. 
 And the sheltering shadows under the trees — 
 I long to be there. 
 
 I long to roam l)y my native stream 
 As it ripples along 'neath the tall trees' shade, 
 An<l freshens all Nature down in the glade. 
 Like my earliest dream. 
 
 I long for a glimpse of my once loved home ; 
 Peaceful its shelter, and lonely its bowers ; 
 I long for one of those moss-rose flowers 
 
 In their fragrant bloom. 
 
 I long to rest in the riuiet glade, 
 To wander at eve among mouldering graves, 
 Where the ivy creeps, and the tall grass waves 
 By the ruin's shade.
 
 Miss Touch .l\/) Af as Lo rimer. 207 
 
 But more I long for Uie living dead 
 To come lo the fountain of life so free — 
 To hear the glad tidings for them and for me, 
 What the Master said, 
 
 I long for more of Sharon's Rose, 
 To blossom there with His fragrant leaves ; 
 I long for the reaper to gather the sheaves 
 That thy Father knows. 
 
 M. A. L.
 
 2 08 MlSSTRELSy OF THE AJeRSE. 
 
 LA.MMERMOOR. 
 
 [The autlior of these lines was John Usher, son of Thomas Usher, shepherd, 
 Byrecknuh, parish of Loiiuforniafus. Rorn in ItilO, after a scant schooling, he 
 was sent to herd sheep on the Lammeniioors. About the year 1825 he entered 
 the University of Kdinburyh, bent on beconiinj; a minister of the Sef>ession 
 Church. As a student he exhibited a marvellous amount of intelligence, and the 
 professors took very kindly to the clever country lad, who, they said, knew almost 
 .OS nuioh as the most hit^hly-trained town student. Before, however, young 
 Usher reached the goal of his ambition, returning home on a snowy winter day, 
 he caught cold, and died after a few hours' illness. He was buried in Melrose 
 Churchyai-d. This was in 1829.] 
 
 O Lammermoor, I love lliec well, 
 
 l-"ach mountain brow, each hollow dell, 
 
 I'ach craggy clift', each rippling .stream, 
 
 Ivach fountain glimm'ring with the beam 
 
 Of the fast-setting sun ; each scene 
 
 Tells of what is, and what hath been. 
 
 Oh, I could look on these for aye, 
 
 Better than beautiful and gay ; 
 
 Sul^limely grand ami roughly fair 
 
 Stern Nature's majesty is there : 
 
 The grey clouds swiftly passing by. 
 
 The rainbow bursting on the eye 
 
 In all the maje.sty of show, 
 
 With every colour's richest glow ; 
 
 Or, when the mountain's giant form 
 
 " Evanishes amid the storm," 
 
 And columned snow, by whirlwind driven, 
 
 Hides the earth and veils the heaven ; 
 
 .Vnd the loud fury of the wind 
 
 Rouses the terror of the mind, 
 
 And .superstition's ghostly train 
 
 Arise in all their .strength again. 
 
 These I love— on these to dwell, 
 
 I know no thought I love so well ; 
 
 Whether in the sunmier's .shine 
 
 Or winter's mighty .storm, 
 
 Whalever's noble and sublime 
 
 Is blended in thy form.
 
 The Sabbath. 209 
 
 At evening fall, oli, let me still 
 Delight to linger on thy hill, 
 Or, enfokled in my plaid. 
 On thy heather lay my head, 
 And dream a thousand dreams of bliss 
 Of joy that knows no weariness, 
 Of warrior knight with iron glove. 
 Of rustic song and maiden love, 
 Forever with thee let me dwell — 
 O Lammermoor, I love thee well ! 
 
 THE SAP.BATH. 
 
 [George Gilmour, the author of the following lines, was the youngest son of 
 Peter Gilmour, mason at Edington — a small hamlet on the road between Chirnside 
 and Berwick, in the former parish. lie emigrated to America about the year 
 1833. The poem is copied from an old MS. volume in the possession of an aged 
 inhabitant of Berwickshire.] 
 
 A .Salibath is a day of hallowed rest, 
 When all is peace within the unclouded breast ; 
 When the soul, panting for a loftier flight, 
 Views by faith's steadfast eye celestial light. 
 What though we tread not consecrated ground, 
 Nor hear a multitude's responsive sound ; 
 Nor priest with flowing vestment be our guide ; 
 Nor incensedireathing altar at our side ; 
 Nor burnished domes where thousand tapers gleam, 
 Nor turrets glitter in the moon-tide beam ; 
 Nor anthems swell the languid heart to warm, 
 Or soothe the senses with delusive charm — 
 \'et holiest worship owned by Him on high, 
 Such as alone can raise and sanctify. 
 May still from humble hearts accepted rise, 
 E'en from the dungeon where the captive sighs ; 
 From deserts where eternal silence reigns ; 
 From crowded cities, and from cultured plains ; 
 Prom boundless seas, or from the lonely isle, 
 L'ncheered by love, and friendship's angel smile. 
 
 O
 
 I 
 
 lO M/XSTIOiLSV OF THE MeRSE. j, 
 
 \ 
 If in lliis litilc sphere of lime and sense t 
 
 Auyhl local could contain Omnipotence, ; 
 
 It were His own great works — these stately halls — 
 
 (^flakes, and hills, and rocks, and waterfalls ; i 
 
 Whose deep, majestic shadows overspread 
 
 The wavcless water slumbering on its bed. 
 
 In bright Iraiuiuillity all Nature glows. 
 
 She also has her Sabbaths of repose ; '^ 
 
 The aspen leaf stirs not — the azure bell 
 
 Bends bcauleously within the sunny dell ; 
 
 A solemn stillness — solitude jirofound ! 
 
 Breathes o'er the scene as it were holy ground. ' 
 
 ^'on little kirk so simjjle, poor, and low. 
 
 Where Sabbath meloilies so sweetly flow. 
 
 May boast, begirt with Nature's grand attire. 
 
 An allar worthy of devotion's fire — 
 
 A temple more befitling ])ra)-er and praise 
 
 Than e'er the puny hand of man could raise. 
 
 And there, ])erchance, her worshippers are known 
 
 To Him, whose eye is on the heart alone ; j 
 
 \\'ho hail the joys of this Sabbatic day, '' 
 
 Joys which the world gives not, nor takes away — . \ 
 
 So passionless, so peaceful, and so blest, j 
 
 They seem the earnest of eternal rest ! \
 
 LIVING WRITERS. 
 
 LADY JOHN SCOTT. 
 B. 1810. 
 
 AL I C I A - A N N E, eldest daughter of John 
 Spottiswood, Esq., of Spottisvvood, by his 
 marriage with Helen, second daughter of Andrew 
 Wauchope, Esq., of Niddrie, was born in the year 
 1810. On nth March, 1836, she was married to 
 Lord John Douglas-Montague-Scott, second son of 
 Charles, fourth Duke of Buccleuch, who died 3rd 
 January, i860. 
 
 The family of Spottiswood have held for nearly four 
 centuries a somewhat conspicuous place in Scottish 
 history, and not a few of its members have achieved 
 distinction in affairs of Church and State. The first 
 of any importance is John Spottiswood, Parson of 
 Calder and Superintendent of Lothian,^ who in 1558 
 accompanied Lord James Douglas — afterwards the 
 Regent Murray — to France to be present at the 
 marriage of the young Queen of Scotland to the 
 Dauphin. His son was the famous Archbishop 
 
 ' " Which office," says an old historian, " he discharged with advan- 
 tage to the Church, and with honour both to himself and to posterity."
 
 212 M/XSTKELSV Of THE AIersE. 
 
 Spottiswood, who in 1633 had the hi^h honour of 
 crowninij Charles I. at Ilolyrood, and who, two years 
 later, was advanced to the Lord Cliancellorship of 
 the kinj^dom. He is best known from his " History 
 of the Church of Scotland," a learned and judicious 
 work, full of sound jud^L,nnent and diligent research. 
 The archbishop's son, again, was a celebrated 
 Senator of the College of Justice— Sir Robert 
 Spottiswood (Lord Newabbey)— a most scholarly 
 man, and the author of a well-known work, "The 
 Practice of the Law of Scotland," which has only 
 been superseded b>' the more elaborate treatises of 
 later times. Other members of the Spottiswood 
 family- have added to its reputation, and Lady John 
 Scott is still worthily maintaining the traditions of 
 her illustrious house. 
 
 As a writer of verse she takes a high rank. Her 
 poetry is full of nature and the sweet scenery of her 
 Border home. There is, too, a note of sadness run- 
 ning through it all, as if the writer were sighing "for 
 the touch of a vanished hand, and the sound 
 of a voice that is still." Her style is in many 
 respects like that of another of Scotland's lady 
 song-writers — Lady Nairne — and there is much 
 justification for Sir George Douglas, in the dedication 
 of his " Minor Poets of Scotland," describing our 
 present poetess as the worthy successor of that noble 
 quartette — Lady Anne Barnard, Miss Jane P^lliot, 
 Lady Grisell Baillie, and Lady Nairne. Not only is 
 Lad)' John Scott the writer of the following beautiful 
 lyrics, but she is also the comjioser of their music,
 
 Lady John Scott. 213 
 
 and it is only proper to add that all her published 
 songs have been sold in the interests of charitable 
 organisations. 
 
 Annii: Lauiue. 
 
 [Quite a controversy has been wajred over tlie inodern version of this well- 
 known sons. William l)oU!,'las of Kin^land, in Kirkcudbrightshire, wrote the <'H 
 version in honour of Miss Laurie of .Maxwelton about the year IVOO, of which the 
 words are as follows : — 
 
 " .Maxwelton banks are bonnie, 
 Where early fa's the dew, 
 Where nie and Annie Laurie 
 Made up the promise true ; 
 Made up the promise true, 
 
 And ne'er for^'et will I, 
 And for bonnie .\imie Laurie, 
 I'd laj' down my head and die. 
 
 " She's backit like a peacock, 
 
 She's breastit like a swan, 
 She's jimp about the middle, 
 
 Her waist ye weel may span ; 
 Her waist ye weel may span. 
 
 She has a rolling eye, 
 .\nd for bonnie Annie Laiirie 
 
 I'd lay down my head and die." 
 
 liUt I'in^land's lines are coarse, harsh, .and Miuiiusical. They have the rinj,' of an 
 old ballad, fpiaint and simple, but are too unrefined for modern delicacy. The 
 new version, on the other hand, lias a ijreater polish of diction, a freer, more 
 natural grace, and a more tender pathos— qualities essential to a lasting' song. It 
 was composed by Lady John Scott in 183."i, while on a visit to her sister. Lady 
 Hume t!anipbell, at .Marchmont House. The tune had previously been written 
 for an old ballad called Ki iiijnjt^ Kni/f, and was adapted to the improved and 
 practically new song of A unit' Laiiric, now so universally kno«n and admired.) 
 
 Maxwelton braes are Ijoniiic, 
 
 Where early fa's tlie dew, 
 And it's there that Annie Lauiic 
 
 Gi'ed me her j^romise true ; 
 Gi'ed me her promise true, 
 
 Which ne'er forgot will he, 
 And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
 
 I'd lay me dnun and dee.
 
 214 A/ixsTKEL^y OF THE Merse. 
 
 Her brow is like the snaw-drifi, 
 
 Her neck is like the swan, 
 Her {-xcQ. it is the fairest 
 
 That e'er the sun shone on ; 
 That e'er the sun shone on, 
 
 And dark blue is her e'e, 
 And for l)onnie Annie Laurie 
 
 I'd lay me doun and dee. 
 
 Like dew on the gowan lying 
 
 Is the fa' o' her fiiiry feet, 
 And like winds in summer sighing, 
 
 Her voice is low and sweet ; 
 Her voice is low and sweet, 
 
 And she's a' the warld to me ; 
 And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
 
 I'd lay me doun and dee. 
 
 Lammermoor. 
 
 Oil, wild and stormy Lammermoor ! 
 
 \\'ould I could feel once more 
 The cold north wind, the wintry blast. 
 
 That sweeps thy mountains o'er. 
 Would I could see thy drifted snow 
 
 Deep, deep in cleuch and glen. 
 And hear the scream of the wild bird-,, 
 
 And was free on thy hills again I 
 
 I hate this dreary southern kind, 
 
 I weary day by day 
 I'or the music of thy many streams 
 
 In the l)irchwoods far away ! 
 l-'rom all I love they banish me, 
 
 liut my thoughts they cannot chain ; 
 And they bear me back, wild Lammermoor, 
 
 To thy distant hills again !
 
 Lady Jons Scott. 21 
 
 D 
 
 Dukis-Dkkk. 
 We'll nicel iiac mair at sunset, when the weary day is dune, 
 Nor wander hame lhc_t;ether by the lee licht o' the mune ; 
 I'll hear your step nae langer amang the dewy corn, 
 For we'll meet nae mair, my bonniest, either at e'en or morn. 
 
 The yellow broom is waving abune the sunny brae, 
 
 And the rowan berries dancing where the sparkling waters play ; 
 
 Though a' is bright and bonnie, it's an eerie place to me. 
 
 For we'll meet nae mair, my dearest, either by burn or tree. 
 
 Far up into the wild hills there's a kirkyard auld and still. 
 Where the frosts lie ilka morning, and the mists hang low and chill ; 
 And there ye sleep in silence, while I wander here my lane, 
 Till we meet ance mair in heaven, never to part again ! 
 
 Katuerine LOGIE. 
 
 When the sun sets o'er the lily lea. 
 And the night is gathering silently ; 
 Oh, then my love I mourn for thee, 
 I\Iy dearest Katherine Logic. 
 
 I wander awa' by the Ileuch Wood Scaur, 
 And silently gaze at the evening star : 
 And I mind thy face that was Ijonnier far, 
 My loveliest Katherine Logic. 
 
 The bird upon the forest tree, 
 Singing his wildest melody, 
 Had na a voice sac sweet as thee. 
 My darling Katherine Logic. 
 
 The bright munebeam is no' sac fair 
 As the light that j^lay'd on thy gowden hair 
 Waes me, I shall never see thee mair, 
 My sweetest Katherine Logic. 
 
 Thou art far abune this warld o' jiain, 
 Where I maun wander dull and lane ; 
 For the light o' my life wi' thee is gane, 
 My dearest Katherine Logic.
 
 To the depths of the sea ! 
 Bright stream, from the founts of the west 
 It may be noted that Mr G. G. Napier for literary 
 material has traversed the haunts and countries of 
 Tennyson, Wordsworth, Cowper, and Byron, and, in 
 our own country, Scott, Carlyle, and Burns. Mr 
 Annan's (of Glasgow) chief coigns of vantage for 
 the taking of the panoramic view of Spottisr 
 wood demesne have been that part of the road 
 between "Steek the Yett " and Thorneydykes, 
 and the more high and distant promontory 
 of Hindsidehill (Mr Mill's) to the southward. 
 Lady John Scott, while in residence at Kirkbank, 
 usecl to make peregrinations into the wild fastnesses 
 of " Cheviot's mountains lone," for the purpose of 
 studying the wild scenery and collecting ballads and 
 traditions of that mountainous region. The result of 
 her investigations she embodied in her beautiful 
 song, " The Bounds o' Cheviot," which is as sweet to 
 the ear of a native of Cheviot as old Minstrel Burne's 
 {cirm. Charles II.) "Leader Haughs and Yarrow" 
 are to a Lauderdale man. The latter ballad was a 
 great favourite of Thomas Carlyle's, the great 
 historian and tScotch Borderer. According to 
 Emeritus Professor Masson, Carlyle was very fond of 
 quoting the concluding stanza — 
 
 " But minstrel Burne can not assuage 
 His grief, while life endureth, 
 To see the changes of this age, 
 
 Which fleeting time procureth ; 
 For mony a place stands in hard case, 
 
 Where blyth folk kenn'd nae sorrow ; 
 With Humes that dwelt on Leaderside, 
 And IScobts that dwelt in Yarrow." 
 In studying Carlyle's "French Revolution," I h^ve 
 several times come across the quotation from " Leader 
 Haughs and Y^arrow"— " Which fleeting time pro- 
 cureth." The flowery string of names, both in the 
 •' The Bounds o' Cheviot" and " Leader Haughs and 
 Yarrow," as Mr Crockett comments on the latter in 
 his "Minstrelsy of the Merse," is very pleasing to 
 the men of the Border— to the "men of the south 
 oountrie." We all know what impressive verse 
 Milton makes out of mere catalogues of localities. 
 We are charmed with the chanting verses which 
 embalm, as it were, the names of our country places, 
 and we love to hear them frequently awaken the 
 
 echoes. 
 
 '•the bounds o' cheviot." 
 Shall I never see the bonnie banks o' Kale again ? 
 
 Nor the dark crais?8 o' Hownam Law ? 
 Nor the green dens o' Chatto, nor Twaeford's mossy 
 stane ? 
 Nor the birka upon Philogar's shaw ? 
 Nae mair ! nae mair ! 
 I shall uever see the bounds o' Cheviot mair. 
 
 Sh»ll I never watch the breaking o' the simmer day 
 
 Over the shouther o' the Deer Buss height, 
 When the Stainchel, and the Mote, and the flowery 
 Bughtrig Brae, 
 Redden, slowly, wi' the mornin' light ? 
 
 Chorus — Nae mair ! nae mair ! &o. 
 
 Shall I never wander, lanely, when the gloamin' fa's, 
 
 And the wild birds flutter to their rest. 
 Or the lang, heathery muir to the bonnie Brunden Laws, 
 
 Standing dark against the glitter o' the west? 
 Chorus — Nae mair ! nae mair ! &c. 
 
 Shall I never ride the mossy braes o' Heatherhope mair ? 
 
 Shall I never see the Fairlone Burn? 
 Nor the wild heights o' Hindhope, wi' its corries green 
 and fair, 
 And tlie waters twinkling down aniang the fern ? 
 Chorus — Nae mair ! nae mair ! &c. 
 
 Shall I never win the marches at the Coquet head. 
 
 Through the mists and the drifting sna' ? 
 Nor the dark Dooi*s^ o' Cottonshopp, nor the quiet sprinefs 
 o' Rede 
 Gliutin' bright across the Border far awa? 
 f A'jrwi'— Nae mair ! nae mair ! &c. 
 
 * lady John Scott-Spottiswood, the anthoress, 
 explains that this is a curious rocky craig, a little 
 over the Fairlone Edge, well known to everyone in 
 that part of Cheviot— a great haunt of foxes. 
 
 Walter Lockie. 
 Roottiswood, Lauder, 21st April, 1909. _
 
 21 6 MiNSTRELSy OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 The Four, Fords. 
 
 The nuiirs and the waters remain I 
 The road owt-r the brae 
 ^^'e sae aft used to gae ; 
 
 But Jamie is gane ! 
 
 And noo I gang wanderin' \wy lane ! 
 
 I keep frae them a', 
 
 I've nae spirit ava, 
 Since Jamie is gane I 
 
 He'll ne'er come to Rathock again 
 He's seen others ower fair. 
 And he minds mc nae mair, 
 
 And Jamie is gane ! 
 
 I'arting was never sue ]jain I 
 For hope it was Strang 
 That it wasna for lang ; 
 
 But Jamie is gane ! 
 
 I ken that my grief is in vain, 
 Vet my heart's like to bicak, 
 wad die for liis sake I 
 And Jamie is gane I 
 
 K I I K I c K . 
 
 (Jh, murmuring waters I 
 
 Have ye no message for me? 
 Ve come frae the hills of the west, 
 
 Where his ste|) wanders free. 
 Did he not whisper my name ? 
 
 Did he not utter one word ? 
 And trust that its sound o'er the rush 
 
 Of thy streams miglil he heard ?
 
 La dv J(. '//.v Sco tt. 
 
 217 
 
 Uli, imirimuin<; waters I 
 
 The sounds of the inoorlamls I hear, 
 The scream of tlic lieron and eagle, 
 
 The bell of the deer; 
 The rustling of heather and fern, 
 
 The shiver of grass on the lea. 
 The sigh of the wind from the hill, 
 
 Hast thou no voice for me? 
 
 Oh, murmuring waters ! 
 
 Flow on — ye have no voice for me ; 
 Bear the wild songs of the hills 
 
 To the depths of the sea ! 
 Bright stream, from the founts of the west 
 
 Rush on with thy music and glee 1 
 Oh ! to be borne to my rest 
 
 In the cold waves with thee ! 
 
 '0?;/ 
 
 
 ■i" ki 
 
 
 
 '^^ i-i:^!^?^]S!^'^Uo 
 
 histo' 
 Emer 
 quoting 
 
 ^ Of/ 
 
 "5 '"«s 
 
 V,. ^^^'cjd ^ "" 5.,, ""■' soon . "'"' 
 
 
 It s 
 
 "'f'.l, 
 
 '/^"«s^r?.<?'n 
 
 
 "•'-. '•"'•'•'^'0 ,,-;;^'^^s,„;y';;;>oi,,^ 
 
 "'■''3/1.,.. -' "o^« ■'.' 
 
 'Ji Ho 
 
 His frrief, while life endurotn, ^V 
 To see the changes of this age, 
 
 Which fleeting time procureth ; 
 For mony a place stands in hard case, 
 
 Where blyth folk kenn'd nae sorrow ; 
 With Humes that dwelt on Leaderside, 
 
 And Scotts that dwelt in Yarrow." 
 In studying Carlyle's "French Revolution," I h^ve 
 several times come across the quotation from " Leader 
 Haughs and Yarrow"—" Which fleeting time pro- 
 curetii." The flowery string of names, both in the 
 " The Bounds o' Cheviot" and " Leader Haughs and 
 Yarrow," as Mr Crockett comments on the latter in 
 his "Minstrelsy of the Merse," is very pleasing to 
 the men of the Border— to the " men of the south
 
 2i8 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 GEORGE I'AULIN. 
 H. 1812. 
 
 G1<:()RGE PAULIN was born at Horndean, in 
 the parish of Ladykirk, i6th August, 1812. 
 He was educated at the parish school and at Selkirk, 
 till he entered the University of Edinburgh in 1832. 
 Here he distinguished himself in more than one branch 
 of study, winning, in particular, the friendship and 
 admiration of Professor John Wilson (" Christopher 
 North"). Having completed the required curriculum, 
 young Paulin became successively parish school- 
 master of Newlands, in Peeblesshire, and Kirknewton, 
 in Midlothian. In 1844 he was appointed to the 
 important post of classical master and rector of 
 Irvine Academy, Ayrshire, an office which he filled 
 with the highest acceptance until his retirement in 
 August, 1877. The work which he undertook to 
 discharge at Irvine was a work which not one teacher 
 in a thousand in those days would ever dream of 
 attempting, even if he were competent to undertake 
 it. For it required a careful understanding not only 
 of the Greek and Latin tongues, but French, German, 
 Italian, and S[)aiiis]i also formed part of the curri- 
 culum. Besides, the rectt^r at that time was expected 
 to drill his pupils in the ordinary subjects of know- 
 ledge — arithmetic, grammar, and geography. When 
 all this is considered, it will be ajiparent that Mr. 
 Paulin is a man of luj ordinary ability, but that 
 he ranks exceptionally high as a scholar and
 
 Georgk Paul I. v. 219 
 
 educationist. When lie retired from the rectorship 
 his old pupils did not forget his services on their 
 behalf, and in proof of the esteem in which they held 
 him, presented him with a massive silver salver and 
 a cheque for £\<X)0. 
 
 In 1876 Mr. Paulin published his only volume of 
 ver.se — "Hallowed Ground, and other Poems "^ — 
 which was received with universal praise from the 
 press and public. The contents of this volume are 
 in two portions. The first consists of poems written 
 in early youth, long, long ago, when " North " and 
 the authoress of Claualbyn swayed the magazine 
 literature of Scotland. The .second portion is made 
 up of poems written in maturer years, and is chiefly 
 of a reli<Tious character. Halloivcd Ground — the 
 principal contribution — gained the poetry prize in 
 Professor Wilson's class. It contains many elegant 
 passages, as it depicts in glowing language the power 
 of memory, hope, and imagination in hallowing spots 
 of earth. What is hallowed ground ? is asked by the 
 mother, the lover, the patriot, the exile, the saint, 
 and each answers differently, yet truly. The poet 
 then enters the temple of Virtue and muses on the 
 deeds which have hallowed ancient Greece and 
 Rome, Helvetia and Britannia, dwelling fondly on 
 tho.se of Scotia with all a patriot's enthusiasm, until 
 at length he is attracted to the land hallowed by the 
 footsteps of the incarnate Son of God — the mo,st 
 hallowed ground on earth. 
 
 'Svo. E(linl)iiii;h : James Taylor.
 
 2 20 MiSSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 The poems that follow arc not lackini^ in merit. 
 Some of them are boldly conceived, are full of 
 striking grandeur, and have the ring of true poetry. 
 No analysis can convey their meaning — they must be 
 read to be felt. In Air. Paulin's minor musings he is 
 intensely fascinating. He speaks in the simple but 
 expressive language of common experience. There 
 is something for all conditions of life — for prattling 
 infanc)-, budding boyhood, mature manhood, the 
 fresh, green prime, the whitening age. 
 
 His "Scotch poems " arc probably his best. J he 
 Covenant Sangs inspires us with its deep feeling, and 
 what heart has not bled at reading Sonn Sleepin' 
 Noo? The whole realm of Scottish nursery literature, 
 rich as it is, dcjes not contain an)' sacred verses 
 surpassing his tender, winsome Daby Song. 
 
 One characteristic of Mr. Paulin's verse is its wealth 
 of religious feeling. He is a man of earnest piet}', 
 and this pervades his pt^etry as his life. He is a 
 teacher of the highest righteousness. To be like 
 Him who of old went about doing good is the grand 
 motto of our singer, and he never fails to present this 
 lofty ideal in thought and language of the purest tone. 
 
 As a liorder man he reveals now and again a 
 cherished love for the scenes of his boyhood. The 
 ripple of the Tweed still rings in his ear, and as we 
 read some of his fine descriptive scenery, our eyes 
 unconsciously turn to the ivy-mantled wall of Lady- 
 kirk Church, anrl the long row of tombstones in the 
 churchyard beside it that bear the name of Paulin ; 
 we catch glim|>ses of Ilorndcan village and the
 
 George Pavlix. 221 
 
 wooded braes and grassy hauL^hs of Twecdside, all (jf 
 which tell us that Mr. Paulin, notwithstanding his 
 long residence in Ayrshire, is still a lV)r(lcrcr in 
 spirit and affection. 
 
 To have written such as book as this of Mr. 
 Paulin's — a book calculated to make men better and 
 happier, to give them higher conceptions of the good, 
 the true, the beautiful ; to teach them firmer trust in 
 God and heartier love to man — is worth ha\iiicj 
 laboured for — is not to have lived in vain. 
 
 The Tweed Revisii-ed. 
 
 Oh, welcome, welcome, once again, my own, my native river ! 
 The same cahn, briglit, bUie wanderer, unchangeable as ever. 
 As when of yore on thy sweet banks, I thought the mighty sea 
 For wondrous width and soundless depth could hardly rival thee ! 
 
 Thou singest still as when I heard, with hopes and feelings young. 
 First on thy bonnie primrose braes the water anthem sung, 
 And dreamed — a fond believing boy — it told of other years. 
 When maidens gazed from castle keep on glittering Border spears. 
 
 l"or with my infant lullal)y was blent the mighty charm 
 Of song that told of Flodden Field and Rantlolph's potent arm ; 
 Of English blood, from Douglas' brand washed in thy azure tide ; 
 And all that Border minstrel.sy has warbled on Tweedside. 
 
 The same wild song ihou'rl singing now, the same wild witch-notes, 
 
 burst 
 From memory's fount of melody, pure as they gushed at tlrst, 
 When, innocent as thou, with brain unscorched )iy passion's fire, 
 To bound above thy sunlit waves was all ni)- heart's desire. 
 
 I love thee, Tweed, with deepest love — though with no headlong shock 
 Thou fiing'st thy flashing might of waves from foamy rock to rock — 
 Though thou hast not sweet Teviot's charm of haugh and heathery fell. 
 Nor Tay's far Highland solitudes, nor Ciutha's water-bell.
 
 2 22 MlXSTRELSY OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 I l.iw tlicc, fill tliou w.uulercsl llnougli .1 laiul of song and hcauty, 
 Where Loveliness is wooed by Truth, and Valour (Iwells with Duty — 
 A land of grey old castle walls and legendary lore — 
 A land of iiappy iieartlis and homes, where lances gleamed of yore. 
 
 I love thee, Tweetl, for ilear tiiou wert to Border minstrels' eyes 
 That often gazed with dreamy joy on tliy sweet mirrored skies ; 
 Now dim the eye and cold the brow that wore tlie laurel meed, 
 And mighty Scott and Wilson slce[) as erst they sung on Tweed. 
 
 I love thee, for thou art the same thou wert in days gone l)y^ 
 The cloudlets of long years ago seem floating in thy sky ! 
 And ne"cr, my native stream, may change on thy loved borders be, 
 Till death shall darken from my eyes this beauteous world and thee ! 
 
 Baiiy Sonc. 
 
 Clap handies, bonnie wee thing, toildle up the brae, 
 Clap handies, toddle nearer, come, come away ; 
 Daddy's wi' ye, mammy's wi' ye, nae ill can happen t'ye, 
 First ae fit, syne anither, toddle up the brae. 
 
 Clap handies, winsome wee thing, sune yell hae a hill 
 Ve maun set yer bonnie breast to wi' a right gude will, 
 Nae kindly hand to guide ye, niuckle evil may betide ye, 
 lUit there's Ane will lit-lp my wee thing up the thorny liill. 
 
 Toddle U)), my w insome wee thing, there's a hand aboon, 
 There's an e'e, a kindly e'e, watchin' late and sune, 
 There's a kinilly ear to hear ye, and a kindly voice to cheer ye, 
 .And a kind, warm heart is beatin' for my babe aboon. 
 
 Hear Ilim say, my bonnie wee thing, " Come to Me an' rest, 
 Rest within thy .Savi(jur's arms, lean upon His breast ; 
 Up the brae I'll safely le.ad thee, wi' the bread o' life Til feed thee, 
 First ae fit, an' syne anither, come to Me an' rest."
 
 George Paullw 223 
 
 It's No \V<M<rii iiik Warsi.e For't. 
 
 It's no worth the warslc foi'l 
 
 A' ye'll get on earth, 
 Clin ye haena wealth aboon 
 
 Mair than warl's worth. 
 
 It's no worth the lootin' for't 
 
 rickin' lip a crojn, 
 (;in ye haena in yer heart 
 
 Aries o' ane ahoon. 
 
 It's no worth the time it taks, 
 
 Biggin' on the sand ; 
 Better be a bairnie yet 
 
 Ridin" on a wand. 
 
 It's no wortli a body's while 
 
 Coortin' fame and glitter, 
 'T only maks the aftercome 
 
 Unco l)lack and bitter. 
 
 It's no worth the fisher's heuk 
 
 Fishin' here for pleasure, 
 Gin we canna coont aboon 
 
 Freends an' hame an' treasure. 
 
 Soun' Sleepin' Noo. 
 
 He's soun' sleepin' noo, Willie, 
 
 The warsle's ower wi' him, 
 The spraichle an' the hoast arc ower, 
 
 The bonnie e'en are dim. 
 
 We'll lay him i' the mools, Willie ; 
 
 But, oh ! we'll think on Johnny, 
 No 'niang the worms and clammy clay, 
 
 But 'mang the angels bonnie.
 
 2 24 Mjxstkelsv of the Merse. 
 
 For liacna uc llic IjIcssciI word, 
 " Wha sleep wi" Me shall live ? " 
 
 An' weel we ken his tender heart 
 He to the Lord did give. 
 
 Tlien gang yer ways to Ijed, \\'illie, 
 (^or weary watchin's past, 
 
 An' dinna look upon liis face 
 .\s ye would look yer last. 
 
 We'll ken the face aboon, Willie — 
 Oor l)onnie Ixiirnie's face ; 
 
 He'll aye be oors and Jesus' too, 
 Within God's holy place. 
 
 Kiss his cauld face aince niair, Willie, 
 His thrabbin' broo's at rest ; 
 
 He never niair ken ])ain or wae 
 Upon the Saviour's l^reast. 
 
 Aiinty'-S Sangs. 
 
 I mind me fu' weel o' the blithe spinning wheel. 
 An' the Covenant sangs o' the Auld Scottish Kirk : 
 
 An' Aunty that sang to the birr o' her reel, 
 
 r the sweet gloaniin' 'oor 'tween the daylicht an' mirk. 
 
 Though aftentimes eerie, we never were weary. 
 
 But liked when oor Aunty said, " Listen, my dearie." 
 
 .She'd mony a rhyme o' the Covenant time, 
 
 O' the mosses an' muirs where the brave martyrs fell 
 
 In flark days o' yore, when to pray was a crime, 
 .\nd the red blude o' saints was the dew o' the dell. 
 
 1 ho' aftentimes eerie, we never were weary, 
 
 Rut liked when oor .Aunty said, " Listen, my dearie." 
 
 Hut Aunty is gane, an' I croon a' alane 
 
 O'er the lilt that was wed to the l)irr o' the reel ; 
 
 The Iwnnie birk waves o'er the cauld grave stane. 
 But her sjjirit's awa' to the Land o' the Leal. 
 
 .\n' noo I am eerie an' dowie an' weary ; 
 
 III ne'er again hear her say, " IJsten, my dearie."
 
 George Paui.ix. 
 
 Retrospect. 
 
 225 
 
 Where'er l)y isle or continent we roam, 
 
 In dreams we visit o''t our chiUlhood's home, 
 
 Though Ideak its clime, and savage rocks arise 
 
 To cleave the cloudy terrors of its skies, 
 
 We know no place so dear, so sweet, so fair 
 
 As that which held our grandsire's old arm-chair. 
 
 At gloamin' hour we'd saunter by the stream 
 With Crusoe's tale or Bunyan's wondrous dream, 
 Or watch the westering sun refulgent stcej) 
 Its ball of fiery splendour in the deep. 
 
 Eve's sober grey our happiest daytime brought, 
 The ingle nook with eager feet we sought, 
 When tales of Eld were told or sung in turn 
 Of Border raids, of Bruce at Banncjckburn, 
 Of haunted glens, of ghost-bestridden wight, 
 Of persecution's coid and stormy night 
 When Covenant men crept close to (iod in prayer. 
 Or hemmed b)- flashing spears stood calmly there. 
 
 God's blessing asked— the evening meal appeared — 
 A simple meal that satisfied and cheered ; 
 The psalm was sung, the Word with reverence read, 
 In heartfelt prayer all bent the lowly head. 
 
 O blithe springtime of youth ! how quickly flew 
 Your gales of fragrance and your skies of blue ; 
 ^'e summer hours— days of romance and rhyme, 
 And russet autumn, life and labour's jirime. 
 Till grey October, Nature's cloudy thief, 
 .Stole the last lingering beauty of the leaf. 
 And wheeled in fitful gusts around my path 
 Winds herahHng the howling winter's wrath. 
 
 Vet all in changing psalm sing Thy behest 
 Eternal Love. Thy will is ever blest ; 
 Who hears Thy voice and knows Thee as Thou art 
 In darkest hour has sunshine in his heart. 
 
 r
 
 2 26 MlXSTRELSV OF THE AIeRSE. 
 
 \<VX. JAMKS BALl.ANTVNK. 
 B. 1820. 
 
 THE Rev. James Ballantync succeeded the Rev. 
 John Steuart Gififcn as eighth minister of the 
 West U.P. Church at Earlston. He entered the 
 Divinity Hall in 1843, studying with distinction 
 under Professors Lindsay and MacMichacl, and was 
 ordained at Earlston on 24th May, 1848, where he 
 continued till 3rd September, 1850, when he was 
 translated to Arthur Street Church, Edinburgh. 
 This charge he dcmittcd on 21st November, 1854, 
 and proceeded to Australia, where he became 
 colleague to the Rev. J. M. Ramsay, of Melbourne. 
 He was known in Earlston as an eloquent and 
 popular preacher, a faithful pastor, and a much- 
 attached friend. He is the author of " Temperance 
 Tales for Young Readers," "The Book of the 
 Mother," and he edited for some time the Juvenile 
 Alissionary Record of the United Presbyterian 
 Church. The following lines were written by him on 
 reading the death-scene of a famous American free- 
 thinker : — 
 
 TiJK DVING I.M-IDEI.. 
 
 See'st thou thai wretched man ? 
 
 Cold sweats are on his brow ; 
 Kur Init another hour to live 
 
 He'd ])art with worlds now. 
 
 'Tis lie whose puny arm 
 
 Was late on high u]>reared, 
 The God of heaven to defy — 
 
 That G )d by angels feared.
 
 Rei\ James J)M.la.\t\'.\e. 227 
 
 'Tis lie who laid)' swore, 
 
 \\ ith curses loud and deep, 
 The faith of saints from off the earth 
 
 At one fell l)lo\v to sweep. 
 
 'Tis he whose impious boasts 
 
 Defiled the very air, 
 Whose deeds wore dark as hell itself, 
 
 Who every crime could dare. 
 
 Behold him ! conscience now 
 
 Asserts her awful sway, 
 -Vntl now he feels that he must die 
 
 And meet the judgment day. 
 
 A thousand fearful thoughts 
 
 His tortured hosom throng ; 
 O God, what living agonies 
 
 To Christless souls belong 1 
 
 Still hotter grows the strifc, 
 
 Still darker grows the hour, 
 Still fiercer burns the hell within : 
 
 'Tis Satan's time of power. 
 
 Hark, how he groans— he cries — 
 
 See how he gasps for breath ; 
 A curse is on his lips — he dies — 
 
 It is the second death, 
 
 N'oung men, beware in time, 
 
 Pride's fond delusions shun ; 
 Repent, believe, embracj the cross — 
 
 Cling to the Saving One.
 
 2 28 .]//xsTK/:r.s\- of the Merse. 
 
 AxNDRKW WAN LESS. 
 11 1824. 
 
 FROM Longformacus, the "capital of Lammcr- 
 moor," have come two of our count)''s sweetest 
 singers — Andrew Wanless and his gifted sister. 
 They are now far from the old land and the familiar 
 scenes of infanc}', yet none the less cordially are they 
 welcomed to these pages from their homes across the 
 y\tlantic. 
 
 Andrew Wanless was born 25th May, 1824, in the 
 old school-house of Longformacus. His boyhood 
 da}'s were passed in this region of romance and 
 stor)'. Scott has made it the scene of his " Bride of 
 Lammcrmoor," and the whole district is full of 
 historical as.sociations. He tells a good story of his 
 pious-minded mother with reference to the death of 
 Scott. " I have," he sa}'s, " a vivid recollection of 
 my father's inten.sc grief when the tidings of Sir 
 Walter Scott's death reached him. He was an 
 ardent admirer of the novelist. The mind of my 
 mother, however, was strong!)- tinctured with 
 Calvinistic doctrines, and she regarded the matter 
 in a very different light. ' Houts, guidman,' .said 
 she, 'he's wcel awa'. He was just fillin' the heads o' 
 the folks fu' f)' doonright havers!'" 
 
 At an early age joung Wanle.ss was sent to 
 school, and received tlic usual education of the time 
 which was supposed to fit a lad for almost an)-
 
 Andrew JVix/./css. 229 
 
 business. liul Nature was perhaps his chief 
 educator. " My keenest pleasure, in early life," he 
 writes, " was found in wandering about my native 
 land, visiting romantic haunts and burnsidcs. I was 
 always of a studious and retiring disposition, en- 
 joying the society of Nature more than that of man." 
 After quitting school he served a seven }'ears' 
 apprenticeshiiJ as a bookbinder in Duns, and then 
 removed to Edinburgh, where he obtained a situation 
 as foreman in a large bookbinding establishment. 
 In 185 1 he emigrated to Canada, and after an un- 
 successful venture at his trade of bookbinding in 
 Toronto, he removed to Detroit, where he commenced 
 business as a bookseller. In this he has been highly 
 fortunate, and is now one of the best known and 
 most respected citizens of the great Western Re- 
 public. He has published several volumes of poems, 
 and in 1891 he issued a collection of "Sketches and 
 Anecdotes " dealing mostly with the old home life, 
 which has been ver}' favourably recei\ed.' 
 
 Mr. Wanless is a true Scottish poet. He has been 
 called the Burns of the United States. He writes in 
 the " guid auld mither tongue" of his native land, 
 and has a \cry wide circle of admirers in his adopted 
 countr}'. The memory of the past is his central 
 theme. I le is carried back to " auld Scotia," and 
 returns laden with the wealth of her military and 
 literary fame, with recollections of his youth and 
 courtship, of the school and the " lonesome kirk " 
 
 ^"Sketches and Anecdotes," by Andrew Wanless. 8vo. Detroit, 
 1891 : Wanless. Pp. 300.
 
 230 MlXSTKELSV OF THE MkKSE. 
 
 with tlic " auld kirk}-ard." It is no wonder he 
 breaks out into singinj^- — 
 
 " O I let Us iiccr fuigct 1)111 liume, 
 
 Auld Scntland's hills anil cairns. 
 And let us a', wlicrccr we be, 
 
 Aye strive ' lo he ijuid bairns.' 
 And \\hcn we meet \\i' want or age 
 
 A-hirpling o\\ re a rung, 
 We'll lak' ihcir part and cheer their heart 
 
 W'i' our auld milher tongue." 
 
 Thi.s, then, is the power that has made him a genuine 
 poet of Scottisli h'fe and character, and for this 
 object he has written and suny; so acceptably — " to 
 Hnk the present with the past — to recall the 
 scenes of our earl}' )ears — to bring up, in 
 imagination, the braw lads and the bonnie lasses 
 that wc forgathered with in the days of the lang 
 .syne, and attempt to describe, on this side of the 
 Atlantic, the wimpling burns, the gowany braes, the 
 bonnie glens, the broomy dells, and the heather-clad 
 mountains of our native land — the land where 
 Wallace and Bruce wielded the patriotic sword, and 
 where Ramsay, Burns, Scott, Tannahill, and many 
 more .sang the songs of love and liberty."'^ 
 
 C)LK MiiiiKR Ton(;i;e. 
 
 (Read before the St. Andrew's Societj', Detroit, 30th November, 1870.] 
 
 It's monie a day since first we left 
 
 Auld Scotland's rugged hills — 
 Her heath'ry braes and gow'ny glens, 
 
 Her bonnie winding rills. 
 
 1 From I'reface lo " Poems and Songs." Svo. Detroit, 1878.
 
 J XD A' /■: ir IVa av. a-.->-.s-. 2 3 1 
 
 W'c lo'ctl her in the Ijy-gane time, 
 
 When life and hope were young, 
 We lo'e her still wi' right guid will, 
 
 And glory in her tongue ! 
 
 Can we forget the summer days 
 
 When we got leave frae schule, 
 How we gadc hinin' down the braes 
 
 To daidle in the pool ? 
 Or to the glen we'd slip awa 
 
 Where hazel clusters hung, 
 And wake the echoes o' the hills — 
 
 Wi' our auld niither tongue. 
 
 Can we forget the lonesome kirk 
 
 Where gloomy ivies creep ? 
 Can we forget the auld kirkyard 
 
 Where our forefathers sleep ? 
 We'll ne'er forget that glorious land 
 
 Where Scott and Burns sung — 
 Their sangs are printed on our hearts 
 
 In our auld mither tongue. 
 
 Auld Scotland ! Land o' mickle fame I 
 
 The land where Wallace trod, 
 The land where heartfelt jiraise ascends 
 
 Up to the throne of God ! 
 Land where the Martyrs sleep in peace, 
 
 Where infant freedom s])rung, 
 Where Knox in tones of thunder sjioke 
 
 In our aukl niither tongue ! 
 
 Now Scotland, dinna ye be blate, 
 
 'Mang nations crousely craw. 
 Your Gallants are nae donnert sumphs, 
 
 Your lasses bang them a'. 
 The glisks o' heaven will never fade 
 
 That hope around us flung — 
 When first we brcalh'd the tale o' love 
 
 In our auld niither tongue !
 
 232 Jl//\srNELSy OF THE Merse. 
 
 O I Id us ne'er fuigcl uur Ikiiul', 
 
 Auld Scotland's hills and caiins, 
 And let us a', where'er we l)e, 
 
 Aye strive " to l)e guid Ijairns I" 
 And when we meet wi" want or age 
 
 A-hirpling owre a rung, 
 We'll tak' their jjart and cheer their heart 
 
 Wi' our auld niither tongue. 
 
 TiiK Scott Ceniknauv. 
 [Read at the UjikiulI, Kussoll House, littroit, 15th August, ls/l.| 
 
 A hundred years have rolled away, 
 This ni(irn brought in the natal day 
 Of one whose name shall live for aye. 
 
 Beside the clear and winiling Forth 
 Was born the " Wizard of the North ! " 
 The Muses circled round his lied, 
 And j)lace<l their mark upon his head ; 
 And Nature sang a graml refrain 
 .\s Genius claimed his wondrous brain, 
 F(jr every bird in bush or brake, 
 Beside the silv'ry stream or lake, 
 Sang blythly on their leafy throne. 
 In honour of the " (Ireat Unknown I " 
 
 The thistle raised its droc>i)ing head ; 
 The lark forsook his heather bed, 
 .Shook from his wing the <lew-dro|i mcjist, 
 .And oil the golden cloud rejoic'd ; 
 The classic Tweed t<Jok U|) the lay, 
 The ^'arrow sang by bank and brae. 
 And Ettrick danc'd upon her way. 
 The daisies by the crystal wells 
 Smiled sweetly to the heather bells ; 
 -And rviggcd craig and mountain dun 
 Kxultcd he was Scotia's son I
 
 A.\j)K/:ir lyANLJuss. 233 
 
 Time spoil, ami from thai brilliant liraiii 
 There issued many a martial strain 
 He sang of knight ami harun hold, 
 Of king and clown in days of old-- 
 Thoiigh dead and gune, and passe<l away — 
 l'"nrgi)tiLn in the niould'ring clay^ 
 \\'e read, we irow, his magic brain 
 Brings back the dead to life again I 
 ]Ie sang of men who ne'er would )ield 
 In Border fray or battle field. 
 Yes ! on the page of endless fame 
 He wrote of many a deed and name ; 
 How patriot iieroes dared to die 
 For God, for right and liberty I 
 
 N\ e see the beacon on the hill, 
 The slumbering earth no more is still, 
 For borne upon the midnight gale 
 The slogan's heard o"er hill and dale, 
 The din of battle and the cry 
 That echoed through the vaultetl sk)', 
 As warriors fell, and rose and reel'd, 
 And died on l'"lodden's fatal fiehl ! 
 
 The minstrel lo\ed auld Scotland's hills, 
 Her gow'ny braes and wimpling rills. 
 He loved the land that gave him birth — 
 A land beloved o'er all the earth ; 
 There stood the brave in weal or woe. 
 Who never crouched to foreign foe — 
 Who stood in battle like a rock. 
 And sna])ped in twain the tyrant's yoke I 
 
 O ! Scotland, thou art dear to me I 
 Thou land of song and chivalry ! 
 There Scott and Burns, and many more. 
 Did pencil Nature to the core — 
 There Wallace held the foe in scorn. 
 And .Scotland lives in Bannockburn !
 
 M/XSTKELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Anil ever)' palriol, far or near, 
 In foreign land, or Scotia dear, 
 In castle ]iroud, or lowly cot, 
 Reveres the name of Walter Scott I 
 
 A Scotch Sangster's Com in". 
 
 On Monday, in St. Andrew's Ha', 
 Rally I men and hrilhers a', 
 Send the news baith far and near — 
 A Scottish Sangster's comin' here ! 
 Deck'd fu' hraw in Highland kilt, 
 He will sing us monie a lilt 
 'Bout auld Scotland's heatli'ry hills, 
 IJirken glens and wimplin' rills, 
 Where the lav'rocks sweetly sing. 
 Where the honnie blue bells sjiring. 
 I lame I we'll ne'er forget ava 
 'Till our latest breath we draw. 
 
 Wiiile the daisy decks the lea, 
 Scotia's sangs will never dee — 
 Floating down time's silent river. 
 Time and they will die together ; 
 Send the news baith far and near, 
 A Scottish Sangster's coming here I 
 Nane like him our sangs can han'le- 
 1 k's the lad In baud the can'le ; 
 Sangs o' Scotland he will sing, 
 \\\\\ make the very rafters ring ; 
 Sangs o' dule and dark despair. 
 Will mak' us rug and rive our hair, 
 Sangs wi' monie a weary mane, 
 Wad melt a very heart o' stane ; 
 Sangs o' love, o' joy, and fear. 
 Heartfelt words forever dear.
 
 ASDKEW WaNLESS. 235 
 
 Come, ye lasses biythe and hraw, 
 Welcome to St. Andrew's 11a' ! 
 His funny cracks will mak' for weeks 
 The tears rin down your ])onnie cheeks. 
 Folk I ye manna stay at hame, 
 That wad lie a hurnin' shame- 
 Send the news baith far and near, 
 A Scottish Sangster's comin' here. 
 
 T 1 1 K M K X ' 1 H !•: M R R s V. . 
 
 Air — " Laird o' Cockpen." 
 
 Where llie Watch and the Dye and the Whitadder rins 
 
 Doon to the Tweed where auld England begins ; 
 
 There li\ed the heroes, that whither or no, 
 
 Wad liglit for their country and l(jun<ler the foe. 
 
 In the front o' tlie battle, sae gallant and true. 
 
 The Merse Men were there wi' their bonnets o' l)lue ; 
 
 The tyrants we read o' in jirose and in verse 
 
 Ne'er wanted /7C'a slrokrs frae the Men o' the Merse. 
 
 The Men o' the Border 1 no tyrant rould scare. 
 They ne'er run awa though the Percy was there, 
 When Liberty trembled, they never knew fear. 
 They aye did their best wi' the sword and the sjiear. 
 The Men o' the Border I auld England kens weel. 
 Are made o' guid stuff frae the head to the heel, 
 At the war cry, " A Douglas ! " the foe would disperse. 
 In terror they'd flee frae the Men o' the Merse. 
 
 How sweet are the haughs and the glens o' the Forth I 
 How grand and majestic the hills o' the North ! 
 The Clansmen may brag o' their big Lochnagar, 
 But our bonnie Tweedside is sweeter by far. 
 Our lasses are sweet as the rose o' the bower, 
 Ye'll no find their match in the warld oul-ower. 
 And men wha in English or Gaelic converse 
 Maun a' knuckle doon to the Men o' the Merse I
 
 236 .}f/\sTRELsy OF riiK Mkrse. 
 
 Lammkkmook. 
 
 .1 ir — " Mary's Dream." 
 
 Thi.- licathcr blooms upon tlic- kiiowcs, 
 
 rrimroses s))ring in hiclilc-d dclIs, 
 The gowans smile on !>ank uixl lirac, 
 
 Amang the blue and bonnie bells. 
 Down o'er the rocks the burnies fa', 
 
 They toddle on, they rin sae pure, 
 Through liirken bowers and yellow brume 
 
 That fringe the glades in Lannnermoor. 
 
 The lark sings in the lift sae blue, 
 
 The mavis sings ui>on the tree, 
 While lowly on the milk-white thorn, 
 
 The robin chirps wi' gladsome glee. 
 I'll never see Aukl Scotland mair, 
 
 Misfortune's cloud does o'er me lour, 
 Nae mair I'll hear the linties' sang 
 
 Amang the hills o' Lammermoor. 
 
 Vet there, in death's cold, cold embrace. 
 
 Lies ane I'll ne'er forget to lo'e, 
 Through weal and woe her gentle heart 
 
 To me was constant, kind, and true. 
 Our sindered hearts are in ae grave. 
 
 Vet I maun still my griefs endure, 
 IJy day I mourn, l)y night my dreams. 
 
 Are in her grave in Lammermoor.
 
 Jessie IVaxless Brack. 237 
 
 JESSIE WANLESS BRACK. 
 1^. 1826. 
 
 JESSIE WANLESS was born 30th September, 
 1826. Her early years were passed in the 
 village of Longformacus. It was a happy 
 period, and the memory of it pervades her song- 
 But youth cannot always remain ; the sterner 
 business of life must be faced, and so we find our . 
 poetess at the age of nineteen in Edinburgh " keeping 
 house " for her brothers, George and Andrew. Then 
 death came to the old school-house, and she had to 
 return home to take her mother's place in the famil}'. 
 " As the years sped along, one by one dropped from 
 the family circle to make homes for themselves, the 
 laughter of children passed from the auld hamc, our 
 dear father died, and the school-house was ours no 
 longer." Several of her brothers and sisters had 
 emigrated to Canada, and, together with her two 
 youngest sisters, she also resolved to cross the 
 Atlantic. " We landed," she writes, " in Quebec on 
 2nd October, 1866. I have now been in this countr}- 
 over twenty-six years, and I have never revisited the 
 old land ; but my thoughts fly often to bonnie Scot- 
 land — ' to bonnie Scotland a}-ont the sea.' 
 
 " ' Yes, I long for a sight o' the licathrr l>ells, 
 Ami a sound o' the winipling rills, 
 And a long, long i)reath o' the caller air 
 That's blowin' on Scotland's hills.'" 
 
 Miss Wanless married in 1868 Mr. George Brack, 
 
 a well-to-do farmer on the Huron River. Ontario,
 
 23S M/ySTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Her poetry is full of the old home-life and the recollec- 
 tion of youthful days in " sweet and pastoral Lammer- 
 moor." She writes with bewitching grace, and the 
 expression of all her songs is just what one might 
 expect from n tender, s}'mpathetic, womanly heart. 
 
 A.MONi; THK LicAViis so Grkf.n. 
 Come to meet me, Nellie, 
 
 When all Nature's clad in tureen, 
 Meet me in yon bonnie i;len, 
 
 Where often we have l)een. 
 I'm fain to sing a song to thee 
 
 Wi' glints o' love between, 
 For lovers' songs arc sweetest 
 
 Down amt)ng the leaves so green. 
 
 Tlien come to meet me, Nellie, 
 
 Wiien the gentle breezes blaw, 
 Come tl(jwn yon bonnie burn side, 
 
 And througli the liirken sluiw ; 
 And ril lie llieie liefoie )'ou, love. 
 
 To watch your gracefu' mien, 
 When ye come to meet me, dearest, 
 
 Down among the leaves so green. 
 
 Oh, come to meet me, Nellie, 
 
 For the birils are singing sweet, 
 The mavis and the missle thrush 
 
 Ilae found out our retreat. 
 Oh, list the love-songs that they sing : 
 
 \'es, these at least are dear, 
 With all Nature for a chorus. 
 
 In the spring-lime cjf the year. 
 
 Then come to meet me, Nellie, 
 
 l-'or the flowers are Ijlooming fair, 
 We'll wander through the woodlands wide, 
 
 .\nd gather clusters rare. 
 The sweetest n<nvers among them a' 
 
 .Shall deck my heart's ain (|ueen. 
 For the blossoms are aye sweetest 
 
 Twined among the leaves .so green.
 
 Christopher D.wvsox. 239 
 
 CHRISTOPin':R DAWSON. 
 
 B. 1826. 
 
 /^"^HRISTOPMKR DAWSON is not exactly a 
 V^ Mcrsc man in the stricter sense of the term, 
 as having been born in the county, but from his long 
 and intimate connection with Berwickshire he has a 
 strong claim to be included among its poets. He 
 came in 1830 with his parents to li\-e at Coldstream, 
 and in this ancient Border town, in the midst of its 
 beautiful scenery, and within easy reach of many 
 historic scenes, his bo\'hood and youth were passed. 
 There can be no doubt that the nature of these 
 early surroundings has done much to influence his 
 character and work. It was here he acquired that 
 keen appreciation and love of Nature which is so 
 marked a feature in his writings, for even to this da)' 
 he finds congenial employment in j)icturing through 
 his verse the charms of fair Tweedsidc. Educated 
 at Coldstream Parish School, he was there trained as 
 a pupil teacher, and entered u{)on the work of his 
 life in 1844 as assistant English master in Madras 
 Academy, in his own native town of Cupar-Eifc. 
 His work here was no easy task, but success followed 
 the enthusiasm and high purpose that nerved him on. 
 Greatly to the regret of his jjupils and the man}- 
 friends he had made, he accepted in 1 846 an offer to 
 become master of Abercom School, a picturesque
 
 2 40 MiXSTKELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 villai;c by the Firth of Forth. For forty-three years 
 Mr. Daw.son made thi.s place his home. He quickly 
 gained the goodwill of the people, and .specially 
 attached himself to the young men of the district, 
 aiding and encouraging them in their work, and 
 suggesting many plans for self-improvement. On 
 his retirement in 1889 he received, at the hands of 
 the Karl of Ilopetoun, a handsome presentation 
 from his friends and former pupils in the shape of 
 a complete silver tea .service and a purse of 
 sovereigns. 
 
 Apart from his immediate professional duties, Mr. 
 Daw.son has found time to devote himself to other 
 active work. He is a popular lecturer on historical, 
 literary, and .scientific subjects, and is a most accept- 
 able platform speaker. He is fond of geological and 
 antiquarian research, and has contributed .several 
 interesting papers on discoveries made b}- him to 
 the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. [See Trans- 
 actions, Session 1876-7.] This love for research 
 led him to gather together a very interesting 
 collection of curio.s, relics, geological specimens, etc., 
 which is being constantly added to; and occasionally 
 there comes, even from distant lands, some much- 
 prized contribution from an oKl jjupil who has not 
 forgot "the ma.ster's mu.seum." Mr. Dawson is a 
 Fellow f)f the lulinburgh Geological Society and the 
 lulucational Institute of Scotland. 
 
 In 1 89 1 he publishcfi a volume of poems, ^ the 
 
 ' " .Xvonmorc and olhei roems." I/hkIdti: N'i-ihct. 8vo,
 
 CiiRisToriir.R Dah'sos. 241 
 
 fruit of leisure moments throu<,^hout man}' years. 
 " Avonmore," which gives to the book its title, is the 
 longest poem, and has a distinct claim to superior 
 merit. The scene is laid in and near Coldstream, 
 and the subject may fittingl)- be termed the history 
 of a soul. It is a spiritual biogra])hy, finel}' con- 
 ceived, touchingly expressed, full of loft\' sentiment, 
 and appealing to the highest emotions of man's 
 nature. It tells of the gradual rising of a soul from 
 the depths of the most horrible despair to a strong, 
 e.xulting faith in the vital truths of the Christian 
 religion. The life hid with Christ in God is shown 
 to be no vain empty dream, but the most perfect 
 form of life. True religion is the only real source of 
 satisfaction for the troubled soul. God reigns, and 
 the example of Mis Son is the one incentive to lead 
 men upward io the com{)leteness of true being. This 
 is the grand lesson the author seeks to teach, and he 
 has accomplished his task in a style at once meri- 
 torious and effective. Mr. Dawson's poems are all 
 more or less on religious themes, and in each there is 
 the ring of genuine poetry. And he, too, like George 
 Paulin, has not forgot the Borderland. The Tweed 
 at Coldstream and the old town are full of tender 
 memories, and through the mists and gloom of more 
 than fifty years he can look back on the sweet vision 
 of his early life when he based his manhood on the 
 determination to pursue the path of piety, to live for 
 others, and thus to better the earth. As he very 
 fittingly sings, so has he striven to realise the ideal 
 that— 
 
 Q
 
 :!42 JJ/XSTKELSy OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 Life has a goal, 
 
 A purpose and a prize — 
 
 Love welling out to guilt or woe, 
 Love quickened from the skies, 
 
 Living for men, easing their load, 
 
 Leading their footsteps on to God ! 
 
 To THF. TWF.F.l) AT COI.DSTRF.AM. 
 
 I cannot turn, O Tweed, from thee, 
 
 I lingering look behind ; 
 Vet all have sunk into the past 
 
 That link thee to my mind ; 
 For what hath time now left to nie 
 But memories of love and thee ? 
 
 Thy waters roll as proudly now 
 
 As when I was a boy. 
 And still unchanged thy sunlit scenes 
 
 That gave my life its joy ; 
 I see along thy winding shore 
 The dear old spots just as of yore. 
 
 But where are they who played with me, 
 
 Who made this holy ground, 
 Whose names are whispered by the breeze, 
 
 And echoed all around ? 
 I hear their voices rise to-day 
 Like angel music far away. 
 
 And ihey who taught my troubled soul, 
 'Mid doubt's o'erwhelming strife. 
 
 To feel not time, nor yet the grave. 
 The omega of life ? 
 
 O from yon cloud-land let them rise, 
 
 And bless me 'mid my tear-dimmed eyes.
 
 CllKISTOPHEK DmVSOX. 243 
 
 Thy silver willows swinging still, 
 
 In cadence to thy song, 
 Press amorous kisses on thy waves, 
 
 As swift they glide along ; 
 While down beneath their shadows rest 
 A softer forest in thy breast. 
 
 How strange, O Tweed, thy magic p..wer 
 
 Fills all around with frienris, 
 And ties long snapped l)y widening years 
 
 Rejoin their broken ends ; 
 The past returns, and on thy shore 
 My childhood days I live once more ; 
 
 For, looking on thy sunny waves, 
 
 All wrapped in flickering gold, 
 I throw away the rust (jf years, 
 
 And feel not that I'm old ; 
 And long-lost joys each sjK)t invest, 
 An<l clothe all in a golden mist. 
 
 Hope smiled on sunny waters then, 
 
 With rapture in her eye, 
 And all around, where'er I turned, 
 
 A glorious earth and sky, 
 And life was wreathed in gorgeous beams, 
 Vet pure as holy angels' dreams. 
 
 The dews of life's young morning fell 
 
 So soft on Hope's young root, 
 That none e'er dreamed such promise fair 
 
 Would yield such bitter fruit. 
 Or prove our lives a chess-board game, 
 Victor or vanquished all the same I 
 
 O life ! O vanished years and dreams ! 
 
 Where heaven, were you to last ? 
 Vour loves were blessed angel-guests. 
 
 And these, O Tweed, are past ; 
 And in dear memory's hallowed land 
 They move a silent shadow-band.
 
 144 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 Away regret ! Life has a goal, 
 A purpose and a prize, — 
 
 Love welling out to guilt or woe. 
 Love quickened from the skies. 
 
 Living for men, easing their load, 
 
 Leading their footsteps on to God ! 
 
 The Rose. 
 
 1 gave a rose unto m)- love, 
 
 Bright dreams my bosom swelled ; 
 
 1 yearned it might an angel prove, — 
 It was my all she held. 
 
 Leaf after leaf she tore away, 
 The winds some sighing bore ; 
 
 While others scattered round her lay, — 
 It was my hope she tore. 
 
 Her dainty feet toyed with them there, 
 Then pressed them in the sod ; 
 
 I watched her in a wild despair, — 
 It was my love she (rod. 
 
 She l)ent the stem, it snapped in twain, 
 
 A hell within me woke ; 
 I ■,huddered 'neath its burning pain, — 
 
 It was my heart she broke.
 
 IV/LL/A.u Telford. :j45 
 
 WILLIAM TELFORD. 
 B. 1828. 
 
 WILLIAM TELFORD, for many years a 
 respected resident of Smith, Peterborough, 
 Ontario, is a native of the Merse, and was born at 
 Leithohn, 6th January, 1828. He was sent to school 
 in his seventh year ; but on account of the long and 
 serious illness of his father, which completely in- 
 capacitated him for work wherewith to provide for 
 his famil)-, he was compelled to relinquish his school 
 life at the age of ten and join his brothers in their 
 employment during winter of digging drains, and in 
 summer of assisting them in a brick and tile yard. "But 
 the se\ere labour he was forced to perform," writes one 
 who knows him well, " did not crush out his aspira- 
 tions for mental improvement. He rose superior t(j 
 his prosaic environments, and triumj^hed over condi- 
 tions that would have brought discouragement or 
 plodding content with ignorance to a less aspiring 
 .soul. Day after da\-, in the rare intermissions of 
 arduous toil, he strove, though but a child, w ith the 
 energ\- and determination of a man to improve his 
 mental condition. He had neither books nor means 
 to procure them, and he had consequentl}' to rely on 
 the kindness of neighbours, wIu) sj-mpathised with 
 his longings, and the scant}- suppl\- ai books their 
 cottage shelves contained ; and in the long winter 
 evenings he was to be seen sitting in the ingle-nook
 
 ::4^ .yiNSTKEL^y of the Merse. 
 
 ot his inotlicr's cottat^e poring over some odd volume. 
 In prose the books to which he had access were such 
 works as Bunyan's ' Pilgrim's Progress,' Baxter's 
 ' Saint's Rest,' Boston's ' Four- Fold State,' ' Josephus' 
 History,' ' Hervey's Meditations,' 'Afflicted Man's 
 Companion,' and such books — one would think, the 
 least alluring in their ponderous sanctity to the lively 
 temperament of youth. In j)oetry. Burns was his 
 chief favourite, although Pope, Moore, Montgomerx', 
 Tannahill, and other poets were conned by him w ith 
 diligent delight." At the age of twenty-two young 
 Telford emigrated to Canada, where he has followed 
 agricultural pursuits with marked success ever since. 
 
 During these many years, however, in .spite of 
 much hard, active employment, Mr. Telford has not 
 been idle with his pen, and the fruit of his leisure 
 moments was given a few years ago to the public in 
 the shape of a large volume of his selected poems, 
 which has been very cordially received by a wide 
 circle of friends and readers who appreciate his 
 talents and worth. 
 
 As a poet William Telford occupies no mean 
 position. From humble circumstances he has risen 
 to worldly comfort and prosperity. Yet he nc\er 
 forgets the old land and the hardships of life's young 
 da\'. He looks back with a feeling even of j^ride to 
 the dark and cheerless past, and knows right well that 
 tho.se times of trial have but proved the discipline 
 of his life — that present joys are but the result of the 
 courage anrl indomitable persexerance then implanted 
 in his soul.
 
 IVlL/./AM TeLIORD. 247 
 
 SCOTIA.S Heather. 
 
 Yes, he brought it. I have got it, 
 Can you guess what it might be ? 
 
 It's the heather John did gather 
 On Aiild Scotia's hills for me. 
 
 First he pu'ed it, then he viewed it, 
 With its blossoms' varied hue, 
 
 Paper folded, therein rolled it, 
 Saying, " Bill, this is for you." 
 
 When I took it, how I looket 
 At the sprig I so well knew ; 
 
 Silent blessed it, almost kissed it, 
 For the sake of where it grew. 
 
 \Vhen I showed it, yes, they knew it. 
 Every Scotchman that I met ; 
 
 Fast they held it, and they smelled it, 
 O ! its scent they won't forget. 
 
 We adore it, true Scots wore it 
 In their Highland caps of yore, 
 
 Their foes feared it as they neared it, 
 Highland blood the heather bore. 
 
 Time has tried it, blood has dyed it, 
 Yes, the best in Scotland shed ; 
 
 They prayed on it, and laid on it 
 Oft the martyr's dying bed. 
 
 \'ou may prize it or despise it, 
 
 As your inclination be ; 
 Don't annoy it or destroy it, 
 
 'Tis a precious gem to me. 
 
 Yes, I have it, I will save it 
 
 While its twigs will hang together: 
 
 Time will move them, but I love them- 
 Both Auld Scotia and liei heather.
 
 ^48 A//Xs7K£Lsy or thP. A/kksk. 
 
 THOMAS MILLKR. 
 B. 1831. 
 
 THOMAS ^^LLER, author of the well-known 
 Ij'ric, Jilj' Heart aye IVariiis to the Tartan, was 
 born at Duns in April, 183 1. His mother was maid 
 to the wife of General Maitland, and his father also 
 held employment in the Maitland famil}-. When 
 four }ears old he removed with his parents to 
 Dumbartonshire, and then to Glasgow, where he got 
 an ordinary school education. Entering a printer's 
 establishment, he came much in contact with books 
 and readers, and a perusal of Shakespeare awakened 
 in him the poetic fire. He has now written man}- 
 stirring songs, which have been set to music and 
 sung in the principal theatres and music-halls of 
 Scotland. 
 
 Mv Ukaki avk Warms m ihk Takian. 
 
 O Scollaiul ! roiinlry of my l)irlh, 
 
 My heart clings close to ihec 
 .\s clinj^s the tendril of the vine. 
 
 .\iul ivy to the tree. 
 The glorious East, the iKjundless NVes(, 
 
 The sunny South's rich charms 
 Are poor to him who Scotland loves — 
 
 Whose heart the l:ul;in warms ! 
 
 My heart aye warms to the tartan, 
 
 And wheresoe'er I roam, 
 The tartan i<ilt and plaid I'll love 
 
 As dearly as my home.
 
 Thomas Miller, 249 
 
 Drar Scotland I Imw tliy memories crowd 
 
 Within my fervt-nt soul, 
 Thy fame shall make thy sons feel proud 
 
 While years and ages roll ; 
 Uncon(|uered in the grand old da)s 
 
 By proud Imperial Rome, 
 And still we've tartan warriors left 
 
 To guard our native home. 
 
 My heart aye warms to the tartan, ct 
 
 c. 
 
 Our lion-liearted Wallace fought 
 
 For home and freedom's sway, 
 And Scotch claymore and battle-axe 
 
 ^^\Hl many a glorious day. 
 .\nd to the Bruce — great warrior king ! — 
 
 Our hearts .shall ever turn, 
 For long as Scotland lives we'll sing 
 
 The jiraise of Ban nock liurn I 
 
 My heart a\e warms to the tartan, etc. 
 
 On many a hard-fought l)aitle held 
 
 Our tartan'd braves have bled 
 Like heroes, died before they'd yield, 
 
 But never yet have fled. 
 On Alma's heights "the thin red line" 
 
 Made e'en the bravest stare, 
 An<l Lucknow's March has taught the world 
 
 What Highlanders will dare. 
 
 My heart aye warms to the tartan, etc. 
 
 Long may tiie rose of England twine 
 
 With Erin's shamrock green, 
 .\nd long may Scotland's thistle wave. 
 
 And lion flag be seen. 
 God grant our land the joys of peace, 
 
 But should the war-blast roar. 
 The tartan kilt will to the front, 
 
 And con<iucr as ()f yore. 
 
 My heart aye warms to the tartan, etc.
 
 2 5° MjXSTKELSV OF I HE iMeRSE. 
 
 THOMAS MAPPER. 
 B. 1835. 
 
 THOMAS HAPPER, like many of our Berwick- 
 shire bards, is a member of the teaching 
 profession, and dihgently pursues his calHng at the 
 hamlet school of Millburn, near Duns. He was born 
 at Earlston in 1835, and began life as a pupil-teacher 
 in the old Eree Church School of the village — now 
 long defunct — then under the care of the Rev. 
 Ebenezer Ritchie, who had been minister of an old 
 Secession congregation in the Orkneys — " one of the 
 saintliest of men," as Mr. Happer has styled him. 
 Quitting Earlston, the young poet - teacher was 
 appointed to a school in Ayrshire, but resigned 
 this that he might further qualify himself for the 
 work of his life by attending the classes in the 
 University of Glasgow. This done, a round of 
 teaching followed at various places — Smailholm, 
 Coldingham, etc.— till finally he became settled 
 in his present situation, a (]uiet nook at the foot 
 of Cockburn Law, not far from the winding 
 Whitaddcr. 
 
 Mr. Happer has written much good, sterling poetry, 
 and has contributed largely to local journals on 
 matters of general interest, but as yet no volume 
 bears his name. Long may he wield the " kindly 
 ferule " and the facile pen.
 
 Thomas llArrEK. 251 
 
 Till-: I'AKiiNc;. 
 
 The pearly tear stood in her eye 
 Like dewdrop on the violet blue, 
 
 The gentle girl breathed a sigh — 
 She meant to say, " A fond adieu ! " 
 
 I kissed away the gathering tear, 
 
 And pressed her beating heart in mine, 
 
 Then gently whispered, " Maiden, dear. 
 Though absent I am ever thine. 
 
 " Thy parting tear I'll ever see, 
 I'll ever hear thy farewell sigh, 
 Till, met again, my fate shall be — 
 With thee to live, with thee to die. 
 
 '■ Can I forget how oft we've barred 
 
 The world without, at evening hour ; 
 Adown the-grove with sloping sward. 
 
 And through the gate, and in the V)ower? 
 
 " The leafy branches o'er us hung. 
 
 The moonbeam kissed the flashing stream, 
 The woodland breezes round us sung, 
 And time passed like a fairy dream. 
 
 " The hours on moment's wing flew by, 
 Till night too soon crept o'er the hill ; 
 We parted with the mutual sigh, 
 
 And fre(|uent kiss, that meant no ill. 
 
 •• Oh, these are hours I'll ne'er forget, 
 And scenes that must be ever dear ; 
 Too deej) on memory's page they'ie writ 
 For ruthless time to cancel here. 
 
 " His hand may crop our leafy bower. 
 And parch the stream meand'ring by, 
 And veil the moon : but vain his power 
 To hide then\ from my fancy's eye.
 
 MlXSIKE/.SV 01- THE MeK^E> 
 
 " Wlial lliuirgh 'mid distaiU sci-ncs I ro\c, 
 Ov liaply cross tlio luiii}' main. 
 We'll bind the knot of tnillitul lo\c. 
 The more to knit the more wc strain. 
 
 " S'l does the mighty chain that binds 
 
 The \ essel to the \save-lasheil shore — 
 The more the straining, tost barge winds. 
 The faithful noose slips fast the more. 
 
 •■ And when to other lands I'm gone — 
 Though lashing seas between us fret — 
 <>h. think, dear, on thy absent one, 
 Anti know /le ne\er can forget. 
 
 •' IJst not the wretch in friendship's garb 
 Who hints my fond regard sh.^ll cease ; 
 He comes with doubly-])ointed barb 
 
 To steal thy heart and wound my ]ieare. 
 
 '• liui we must j)art — the hour is come ; 
 .Stern fate now tolls our parting knell, 
 And calls me to an alien home, 
 
 Hilt still my heart with thee si all dwell. 
 
 '• I'arl I tlid I say .^ how can it be? 
 True love's a being of the heart. 
 Our hearts are one ; then, dearest, we 
 United thus can never part.'' 
 
 ClIKlSTIAN CHAKIIV. 
 (I Corinthians MM ) 
 
 Love iK'ars long without re])ining, 
 
 ICver gentle, ever kind ; 
 l.ove knows not the cold designing 
 
 Envy frameth in the minrl.
 
 TihuiAs J/api'i:k. 2^;\ 
 
 Love disowns all r;isli piesuniing. 
 
 Arrogates no. selfish praise ; 
 Love is facile, unassuming, • 
 
 Prompt another's fame to raise. 
 
 Love, ingenuous and lowly, 
 
 Ne'er is puffed with pride elate ; 
 Love, disdaining ways unholy, 
 
 CviUivates a seemly gait. 
 
 Love would fill a neighbour's coffer 
 
 Rather than increase its own; 
 Love its only gem would profiler 
 
 To adorn a brother's crown. 
 
 Love ne'er frets, nor ill devises. 
 
 Hut delights in kindly ruth ; 
 l.iive iniquity despises. 
 
 Hut rejoices in the truth. 
 
 Love, all hardshijis meekly hearings 
 
 Trusts that good in all things lies; 
 Love is hopeful, ne'er despairing. 
 
 Suffers all things, never dies.
 
 2 54 M/.\-STRELSy OF THE IMeRSE. 
 
 ROBERT M'LEAN CALDER. 
 
 R. 1841. 
 
 ROBERT M'LEAN CALDER was bom at 
 Duns in November, 1841. While yet a child 
 his parents removed to the village of Polwarth, and 
 it was here, amid the romantic scenes of the old 
 historic hamlet, that his love for the beautiful in 
 Nature was nurtured and his thoughts first shaped 
 themselves in verse. His education was begun at 
 the " bairns' school," kept up by the late Lady Hume- 
 Campbell, and afterwards continued at the parish 
 school. " The three R's," he writes, " were as far as 
 I got ; for at the age of nine I hired out at the farm 
 of Raecleughhead in the humble occupation of 
 ' herding craws,' varying this w ith cutting thistles or 
 gathering rack." During this time, and later on 
 when herding sheep on the moors by Kyle's hill, he 
 supplemented the meagre education he had received 
 by taking his books with him to the fields and hill- 
 side. Whatever literature he could find was eagerl}' 
 devoured, and in this taste for knowledge he was 
 most generously encouraged by his parents, who 
 were both of more than average intelligence. Called 
 from the hillside to serve his apprenticeship to the 
 draper)' trade with an uncle in Duns, he further 
 improved his education b)' attending evening classes 
 and sturlying music under the late Rev. D. Kerr, who
 
 Robert McLean Calder. 
 
 '■:)b 
 
 was one of the pioneers in the introduction of the 
 Sol-fa system into Scotland. It was during this 
 time that he first ventured to contribute to the local 
 press, and the editor being kindly, he felt encouraged 
 to further effort. Upon the conclusion of his 
 apprenticeship he went to London, having obtained 
 a situation in a leading drapery establishment, and 
 in 1866 we find him emigrating to America and 
 settled in Canada. Here he had great scope for his 
 literary abilities, and during his residence in the 
 country he was a constant contributor of verse to 
 many weekly and daily newspapers. The ScottisJi- 
 Americtxn Journal, a paper which has done much 
 to foster the literary taste of Scottish-Americans, 
 published a large number of his songs and other 
 writings. 
 
 After remaining for some years in the town of 
 Chatham, Ontario, he had, through ill-health, to 
 relinquish his business and return to the old countr}-. 
 This was in 1882, and from that time he has resided 
 in London, being now associated in business with his 
 brother. 
 
 Several of Mr. Calder's songs have been published, 
 and have had a wide circulation. For two poems he 
 received gold medals from the St. Andrew's Society 
 at Ottawa. In 1887 he published a small \olume of 
 verse under the title of " Hame Sangs,"^ which has 
 been ver}- favourably reviewed b}' the press at home 
 and abroad. 
 
 ' Loiutuii : 410.
 
 2SG 
 
 M/xsTKEisv OF Tin-: Afr.Rsr. 
 
 Whkn rm. Days akk Ckkki-in' In. 
 
 The simmer flowers are wilhercd, 
 
 The simmer winds are gaiie, 
 An' yellow leaves lie scattered 
 
 On U])lan(l an' in ^len ; 
 The l)wrnie lilts sae dolelu' 
 
 As its drinnlie waters rin. 
 An' the sun curtails its glances 
 
 When the days are creepin' in. 
 
 The stacks hae a' been ihackit — 
 
 We've laid asirie liie plough, 
 'Ihe laities a' are how kit, 
 
 .\n' the simmer dargs are thro", 
 An' noo Ijeside the ingle, 
 
 In the neuk sae snug an' clean, 
 Sae canty we foregather 
 
 W lii-n ihe (la)s are creejiin' in, 
 
 Noo winter's comin' surely, 
 
 Wi' cauldrife win's an' snaw. 
 We're ihankfu' for oor higgin', 
 
 Altho' oor cot's hut sma'. 
 We envy na the riches 
 
 Sae niony try to win ; 
 We hae oor simple ])leasure-> 
 
 When the days are creepin' in. 
 
 An' for the helpless outcasts 
 
 We never grudge a hite. 
 We're fain to gie them shelter 
 
 I'rae the nipjiin' winter's nicht ; 
 For we think o' oor ain laddie 
 
 Far frae a' his kith an' kin, 
 Amang strangers may be fendin' 
 
 When the days are creepin' in.
 
 Rnr.Eirr M'Li:ax CALorn. 25; 
 
 AuM ago coiiu's on iw ciccpin', 
 
 Vox oor siiiiimr ilay> aii.' pa.si. 
 An' sune wc maun be sleepin' 
 
 Aniani; the nnxjls at last ; 
 lint yonder, where oor hope is, 
 
 Free frae a' stains o' sin, 
 There will be nae cheerless winters 
 
 W'lun the days are creepin' in. 
 
 I'Ol.AKT Bi'kN. 
 
 The frost has nijit the heather bloom, 
 
 The brackens hin<^ their dowdie leaves — 
 'J'he hips are red ujion the brier, 
 
 An' paitricks whirr amang the sheaves ; 
 Nae mair the bees roam o'er the nuiir, 
 
 Or, laden wi' their sweets, return, 
 As I, to sniHlhe cauler air, 
 
 Stray uj) the t^len 1>y I'olarl burn. 
 
 Here mony a hap[>y da\- we spent, 
 
 \\ hen we were laddies at the schule : 
 We souijht the heather-linties' nest, 
 
 Or gump'd for mennents in the pool : 
 We wist nae hoo the time sped on, 
 
 Until we heard the cowlwy's horn. 
 Vet, laith to lea', we linger'd on, 
 
 'Till gloamin' fell o'er Polarl burn. 
 
 We've wander'd 'mang the heather knowes. 
 
 When frae oor feet the nniir-cock « hirr'd. 
 Or wander'd by the lower haugh, 
 
 Where first the cuckoo's note was heard : 
 Syne hameward we would trea<l iis banks. 
 
 To watch the moss-grown mill-wheel turn. 
 Or note the foamin' mill-race rush 
 
 To blend its Hood wi' I'olarl burn.
 
 2 5'*^ M/XSTRELSV OF THE AfF.RSK. 
 
 There, wi' the love nor boyhood knew, 
 
 We wander'd — prodigal o' time — 
 When eyes were brighter, lips niair sweet, 
 
 Than ever met wi' in oor prime ; 
 Noo sad the memory that comes back — 
 
 Its brightness never can return — 
 An' ])hanlom hopes float 'mid the haze 
 
 That e'ening brings o'er rolart l)uvn. 
 
 The schuleboy friendships then begun 
 
 Ilae still grown closer year by year, 
 Tho' a' oor mates are scatter'd wide, 
 
 In cauld nor'-land, or southern sphere : 
 But scarce a simmer time comes roun' 
 
 But ane or ither maun return. 
 To see ance mair their native hame 
 
 An' boyhood's haunts by Polart burn. 
 
 An" noo, amid the city's stir, 
 
 The busy mart and crowded street, 
 Aft will my fancy wander free 
 
 Ilk shady nook and calm retreat ; 
 Or as beside my fire I sit. 
 
 Inclined o'er 1 ygane joys to mourn. 
 The sunny glints come back again, 
 
 Whene'er I think o' Polart burn. 
 
 The Aui.I) Sciini.i-, Hoose on tiik Cikkkn. 
 
 Oh ! weel I remember the schule hoose 
 
 That stood fu' snug 'neath the trees, 
 Where the blaeberries grew in the plantin, 
 
 An' the heather invited the bees ; 
 Where the bairnies' voices rang merry. 
 
 As wi' faces an' daidlies sac clean 
 They scampered awa' thro' the bushes 
 
 To the auld schule hoose on the green.
 
 RoBEin M^Leax Cai.dek. 259 
 
 Oh ! I mind when mysel' a bit laddie — 
 
 When life wore its sunniest smile — 
 How hlythely wi' licht heart I lilted, 
 
 As I scampered through hedge-slap an' stile ; 
 Or clim1)ed the scrogg tree in the meadow — 
 
 Or waded the burn clear an' sheen — 
 Tho' aften I loitered ower late for 
 
 The auld schulc lioose on the green. 
 
 Siill lucnrry delights to dwell u|ii)ii 
 
 The scenes o' those haj^piest days, 
 The Inirn where we gumjjit for niennents ; 
 
 ()r the blue bell and govvan-clad braes 
 Where we twined flower wreaths for the lasses ; 
 
 For Mary, an' Lizzy, an' Jean, 
 Wha ilka morn toddled there wi' us 
 
 To the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 Oh ! I mind o' that wee theekit schule hoose 
 
 Wi' the rose bushes grown at the door, 
 An' the apple trees in the wee gairden, 
 
 Wi' bonnie white blossoms hung o'er. 
 The desks where we scribbled our copies. 
 
 Or oftener, ate sweeties unseen. 
 While the lasses were clippin' and shoowin' 
 
 In the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 An' still aft' I think o" ilie planlin 
 
 Where the geens an' the blaeberries grew. 
 For aften we've sat there an' feasted 
 
 Till our faces an' daidlies were blue ; 
 An' our legs wi' the whuns were a' scarlet. 
 
 But whilk we ne'er cared for a preen. 
 We were blythe as the lambkins that sporlit 
 
 Near the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 An' weel can I mind iiow we hunlil 
 
 The squirrel high up the fir tree, 
 Or the young cusha doo thai had ventured 
 
 Ool the nest afore it could (lee.
 
 26o JZ/.w^A-AV..?)- OF riir A/f.rsf.. 
 
 NVhoie wc sluiiiiuil ihc ikxi) well wlicii.' tlie hunter 
 Had fa'n in, and ne'er was mair seen, 
 
 When the Ik'11 ca'd us hack frac oor sjMrtin' 
 To the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 Oh, aften I think o' these playmates 
 
 Noo scattered far, far frae their hanies — 
 Where the laddies still search in the i)lantiii 
 
 For the trees where we cut oot oor name>, 
 While they toll ane anither the story — 
 
 That in many a strange foreign scene 
 Are the laddies wha were years liefiHC them 
 
 At the auld schule hoosc on the green. 
 
 1 ken na if e'er I may wander 
 
 Again by that auld cherished spot, 
 i^ul those bright cludless hours o' my childhoo.l 
 
 An' those jilaymates shall ne'er he forgot. 
 While deeply engraved on my mem'ry 
 
 Shall aye he each fair hallowed scene. 
 As in fancy I aften shall linger 
 
 By the auld schule hoose on the green.
 
 Koiii:/ri' J''/</.\cLL. 261 
 
 ROBERT TRINGLE. 
 B. 1841. 
 
 ROBERT I'RINGLE was born at Duns in 
 1 84 1, and, educated at the parish school, was 
 for a time a pupil teacher therein. After passinj^ 
 with distinction throu<i^h the trainin<^ colles^e at 
 Edinburgh, he was appointed Latin master in Eorfar 
 Academ)'. He is now settled near Manchester as 
 the head of a iar^^e educational institution. He has 
 published .several scholastic works of high merit, and 
 is well known as a writer of verse full of thought 
 and of graceful expression, such as befits a cultured 
 wooer of the Muse. 
 
 The Virtuk Wki.i,. 
 
 I A mineral sprinjj in the iieij;h1ionrhood of l>uiis.] 
 
 O'er-branched with waving shadows, 
 
 Within a grassy dell, 
 Heside the virtue water 
 
 Springs the virtue well. 
 In days of old we loved it, 
 
 We love it now the same ; 
 And on the dome alM)ve ii 
 
 The schi)ol-boy carves his name. 
 
 On early morn In sunnner, 
 
 At dewy evening too, 
 Boys and girls we wandered 
 
 Where the rushes grew, 
 We drank the healing waters 
 
 Flowing from the well, 
 And laughing, homeward sauntered 
 
 Our ha])]5iness to lell.
 
 262 J//XSTJyELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Tlie old men from the village 
 
 With tottering footsteps came 
 To sip the cooling fountain ; 
 
 The young men did the same. 
 And as the tinted sunset 
 
 Yellowed all the dell, 
 Young maidens, too, came singing 
 
 \v\(\ lrip])ing to the well. 
 
 And often when the moonbeams 
 
 Softly fell from heaven, 
 And from the day's dull labour, 
 
 Rest, sweet rest, was given. 
 Lovers met beside it 
 
 To tell each others' love, 
 \\'hen nought ccjuld hear their story 
 
 But the jiale moon abo\ e. 
 
 Sunny, sunny mennjries ! 
 
 Ghost of joys gone by I 
 'Tis sweet to revel in dreamland, 
 
 Yet still it brings a sigh ; 
 Mayhap the past was sunshine, 
 
 The future sleeps in shade. 
 And pleasures, fondly tasted, 
 
 Bloomed, but again to fade.
 
 /kawij-: Dodds, 2/13 
 
 JKANNMK DODDS. 
 
 H. 1849. 
 
 JEANNIE DODDS was born in 1849 at Hills- 
 house, in the parish of Channclkirk, where her 
 father was the farm <,rrieve. While yet a child 
 the family removed to I-'ifcshire, settling in Kirk- 
 caldy. At the age of twelve she entered a draper's 
 establishment as a message girl, rising by her 
 industry and perseverance to be head of the dress 
 and mantle-making department. After fourteen years' 
 service she commenced business on her own account, 
 and has been highly successful. She is a frequent 
 contributor to the local newspapers under the )u>ui- 
 de-plume of " Ruth." Her poetry is sweet and simple, 
 displaying true depth of feeling, such as alone could 
 proceed from the tender heart of a loving and 
 s\-mpathetic woman. 
 
 A Mother's Test. 
 
 There lay in the palm of a mother's hand 
 
 A beautiful bunch of flowers, 
 And she said to herself, " I will try the strength 
 
 Of this darling child of ours." 
 
 The little one bounded forth with a smile 
 
 On her radiant, dimpled face, 
 And a chubby, soft, white hand held out 
 
 With innocent, childish grace. 
 
 Just as she touched the stem t)f the flowers 
 
 The mother closed her hand, 
 And the little one pulled, and pulled in vain — 
 
 She could not understand.
 
 ;64 
 
 J//.\;s/AV;/..yi- or thi: ^f^:KSE. 
 
 Tlif mullicr ilid nol wish to williliold 
 The flowers from the child ihut day — 
 
 Km lo test the power of the little one's faith, 
 And the strcnj^th that in her lay. 
 
 Like children we reach out eas^'er hands 
 
 For "lifts kind Heaven denies ; 
 Hut an unseen hand is holding; them fast 
 
 lust to test what in us lies. 
 
 If we j;ot all we longed for, anil never were crossed, 
 Our hearts would grow selfish and vain ; 
 
 The finest of gold by the fire is refined, 
 .\nd pleasure made purer by i)ain. 
 
 F R I E N I) s II 1 1'. 
 
 In this bright world the storm succeeds tlie sunshine, 
 F:'en midst our laughter, burning tears may blend ; 
 
 How sweet to think that on the earth's broad surface 
 There is some faithful soul whom we call friend. 
 
 ^Vhat is a friendship ? is it something suljtle ? 
 
 I,ike fragrance from a flower in shady nook ? 
 Or just a sentiment to please the fancy — 
 
 Something existing only in a book ? 
 
 A frieiiil worth having must be noi)lc, trullilul. 
 
 Not one whose time is passed in dreams and myths ; 
 We want a friend high-souled and full of purpose, 
 
 Not one whose jmnnise breaks like .Samson's "withes. 
 
 'J"rue friendship is a gift direct from heaven, 
 Something that knits true souls in .sympathy; 
 
 Firmer than bands of gold the tie that binds them. 
 Each almost moulds the inher's destiny. 
 
 In this bright world where death and separation 
 Make things too dark for us to coiiii)rehend, 
 
 Who has not felt just at life's darkest moments 
 The value of this heaven-sent gift— a friend ?
 
 Ueorce Deass. 265 
 
 GEORGE DEAxNS. 
 B. 1851. 
 
 A'lRUE son (jf the Merse, George Deans was 
 born at Sisterpath Waukmill, in the parish of 
 Fogo, in 185 I. The farm of Angelrow, a few miles 
 westward, was for many years tenanted by his 
 maternal ancestors — the Lyalls. From the banks of 
 the Blackadder his parents migrated to the village of 
 Wark, on Tweedside, in the northern corner of 
 Northumberland, where his boyhood was passed. 
 Here the usual varied experience of young Rusticity 
 fell to his lot : cow-herding, cnnv-herding, and the 
 wild, free delights of the fields in all seasons. The 
 murmur of the Tweed may be said to have made 
 music in his earliest dreams. 1^'rom Wark the boy 
 was sent to Kelso, where he spent a few }'ears in a 
 commercial sphere. But this kind of life being 
 unsuited to his iticlinations. he made his wa\- to 
 Glasgow when still a )outh, and there, after a course 
 of arduous self-education, secured a position as 
 newspaper reporter. Mr. Deans is n(n\ a member of 
 the editorial staff of the G/asgiKi.' Citizen, the oldest 
 and most influential evening journal in the country. 
 In 1890 he produced a volume of poetry under the 
 title of " Harp Strums,"^ which, savouring largely of 
 the famous l^orderland, has been most cordially 
 received. 
 
 1 Svo. Kelso : [. \: I. H. Kutherfurd.
 
 2 66 MiysTRELSv OF THE Merse. 
 
 Hume Casti.e. 
 
 Years and the blasts o*" war have wrecked thy form, 
 
 Old Time has hushed thee into dreamless sleep, 
 
 Silent and lonely on thy craggy steep : 
 
 Thou heedest not the fury of the storm, 
 
 Nor summer winds that o'er thy ramparts sweep. 
 
 No record tells of all the deeds thou'st done, 
 
 Vet any simple hind may guess thy story, 
 
 When, musing at the setting of the sun. 
 
 He sees thee looming through a cloud of glory, 
 
 And marks the scars upon thy visage hoary. 
 
 Of old thou wert the sentinel of the Merse ; 
 When hordes on havoc's errand crossed the Tweed, 
 (^uick was thine eye, thy valiant sword gleam'd fierce, 
 The trumpet called thy sons to doughty deed, 
 The lion rampant from thy turrets waved. 
 And peers and peasants, in their martial pride, 
 Rose up to guard thee round on every side — 
 Brave-hearted men- who would not l>e enslaved. 
 
 Between the Cheviots and the L;imniermoors 
 
 Thou kept thy watch defiant, 
 
 A grim unyielding giant. 
 
 Whose glance could range the far Northumbrian shores. 
 
 Strong foes have pressed and girdled thee about, 
 And leapt upon thy breast to lay thee low, 
 Then backward reeled from thy avenging IjIow, 
 Bleeding and broken, a dis(jrdcred rout, 
 With valour songs all sunk to groans of woe I 
 
 Within the compass of thy sombre shadow 
 
 War, like a fiery storm, has roared, 
 
 And carnage has not sheathed his sword 
 
 Till heaps of slain lay red athwart the meadow I 
 
 .\nd, wreathed in a cloud of battle smoke, 
 
 Oft hast thou irembl'd on thy stubborn rock.
 
 Geo lie, E Deash. 267 
 
 No more tliuu wakest al the clarion call, 
 
 TI10U watclicsl for no foo by tlay or night ; 
 
 The grij) of ruin holds ihee in its thrall. 
 
 Time with his shears has shorn thte of thy might. 
 
 Thy sleep is in an atmosphere of peace ! 
 
 A drowsy village nestles at thy feet : 
 
 On thy green slopes the flocks, in snowy fleece, 
 
 Find grassy shelter from the noonday heat ; 
 
 The daisies cluster 'neath thy ample shade ; 
 
 The shepherd there at gloaming woos his maid, 
 
 And whispers to her heart the old, old vow ! 
 
 In thy decay thou still art beautiful ! 
 No pennon floats from thy grim turrets now, 
 But summer flowers, with richest fragrancy, 
 Climl) up thy rugged sides in fair array, 
 And hang in rosy garlands round thy brow ! 
 
 In the wide Merse thou art a cherished feature — 
 No lifeless mass of crumbling stone and lime ; 
 To us thou hast become a part of Nature, 
 And old almost as anything of time ! 
 
 A bearded host no longer owns thy rule, 
 
 But troops of children give thee high command, 
 
 When, homeward wandering on their way from school. 
 
 They linger 'mong the gowans round thy base, 
 
 And raise their laughing eyes up to thy face, 
 
 And call thee King of all the Borderland. 
 
 The peasant, far oft", at his cottage door, 
 
 Tir'd with the heavy lai)ours of the day, 
 
 Looks forth and sees thee — then he dreams of yore. 
 
 And warlike pageants that have pass'd away ; 
 
 He gazes at thee till his eyes grow dim — 
 
 A wizard from grey Eld th<ju art to him. 
 
 Darlingfiei.d. 
 
 Fair Darlingfield ! sweet Darlingfield 1 
 Thy very name a joy can yield ; 
 At peace within thy cosy bield 
 Among the wooils o' Mellerstain.
 
 26S MlXSTKELSV O/' THE M I.KSE. 
 
 Ilu\\ green the ineiidows rouml tbcc lie, 
 How blue above thee is the sky ; 
 The lark, uiisoaring joyouslie, 
 Tours clown his jitjuid song to thee. 
 
 I see the shepherd 'mong his shee]! — 
 
 The flock is I)rowsing, h:ilf asleep ; 
 
 A cushat murmurs in the trees ; 
 
 The clover grass is thronged w ith bees ; 
 
 A wini|)ling brooklet softly glides, 
 
 And charms the flowers that deck its sides : 
 
 Voting winds that love the solitudes 
 
 Are wandering through thy shadowy woods. 
 
 'Tis June. Thy cottages are bright 
 With woodbine, roses red and white ; 
 And all al)out them, in the sun, 
 I-roni morn to eve the children run — 
 Wee prattling things, with sunny hair, 
 That rob the hind of half his care. 
 
 Under a leafy beechen tree, 
 
 That throws a jileasant shade for me, 
 
 I lie and linger at mine ease, 
 
 .\nd with ([uaint thoughts my fancy please, 
 
 Forgetting life's absorbing fray. 
 
 When sunnner gi\es me holiday. 
 
 Fair Darlingfield ! sweet Darlingfield I 
 Thy very name a joy can )icl(l ; 
 At peace within thy cosy lilcld 
 Among the woods o' Mcllcrstaiii. 
 
 BiROHA.M Bowers. 
 
 Oh, Iwnnie are the Birgham bowers 
 Where the while haw blossom hings ; 
 Oh, bonnie are the bounlrie trees 
 Where the thrush in simmer .sings.
 
 GF.OKiJ: I^F.ASS. 26iy 
 
 There Tweed riiis clear. :in' whispers 
 To ihe whisome iKjdding flowers, 
 As if she fain wad linger aye 
 By Birghani's honnie bowers. 
 
 There first I met my dearie, 
 There, folded to my breast, 
 My gentle blue-eyed Jeannic 
 To me her love confest. 
 
 "Tis there well meet this e\enin', 
 \\ hen shines the cludless moon, 
 Aneath the fragrant Ixiuntries 
 r the lialmy breath o' June I 
 
 t) Birgham liowers, sae boiuiie. 
 To me will aye bloom fair ; 
 But fairest far, sweet lassie, 
 W hen thou art wi" nie there.
 
 :?70 AffNSTRELS)- OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 AGNES MACK DEN HOLM. 
 B. 1854. 
 
 AGNES MACK, of a worth}- o\(\ Lammermoor 
 famil}-, was born at Abbey St. Bathans, 24th 
 Februar)-, 1854. Her education was received at the 
 parish school, and at the age of fourteen she entered 
 domestic service. In 1888 she married Mr. William 
 Denholm, overseer on the farm of Abbey St. Bathans, 
 where she still resides. 
 
 Mrs. Denholm has written some reall}' charmini^ 
 verse, which is deserving of a wider publicity than 
 it meantime has. Her poetry is characterised b}' 
 sweet simplicity of diction, and a certain tenderness 
 of tone which can hardly fail to touch a responsive 
 chord in the heart of the reader. In the Legend of 
 Laviinennoor the ancient ballad style has been faith- 
 fully imitated, and her other effusions prove their 
 writer to possess, in no mean measure, the soul of 
 a genuine poetess. We look forward to seeing, b}^ 
 and by, Mrs. Dcnholm's musings in a more tangible 
 
 form. 
 
 A Lk(;kni) ok Lammermoor. 
 
 There lived a lainl in I'lackerstoune, 
 
 And he had daughters fair to see ; 
 The youngest was plighted to Gibliie Craig, 
 
 Wha lived in the west countrie. 
 Now Gibbie Craig has mountit his steed — 
 
 .'\nc coal-black steed was he — 
 And he has ridden frae Lauderdale 
 
 Fair Alison to see.
 
 Agnes Mack J)i'.nhoi.m. 271 
 
 lUit wlicn he liail cmssil the Kilia's tide, 
 
 And breislit the heather l)iae, 
 He saw a sight, in the f;iir imineliglit, 
 
 That made liis heart fu' vvae. 
 There stood before him a goodly jouth 
 
 By the lanesonie Butter Well. 
 And closely claspit in his arm-. 
 
 Fair Alison hersel'. 
 
 He's loupit doiin frae his charger tl:cn. 
 
 An angry man and a grim ; 
 Nae word s))ak' he to Alison, 
 
 But turned to the youth sae slim. 
 He's pu'd out his dagger sae keen 
 
 In the twinklin" o' an e'e. 
 And he's thrust the blade u]) to the liilt 
 
 In thai fair youth's l)odii'. 
 
 " My malison on ye, Gililiie ('raig — 
 
 An ill death may ye dee, 
 For ye hae slain my ae brither 
 
 That was aye sae dear tcj me. 
 My faither had banishit him frae hame 
 
 Away to the north countrie, 
 Because that he lovit a weel-faured maid 
 
 Without either lands or fee ; 
 
 " And he tryslit me to meet him here 
 
 By the lanesome Butter Weil- - 
 Me, wha had been his only frien' — 
 
 Ane secret to me to tell. 
 Alas ! alas I my brither dear, 
 
 Your secret I maun tyne, 
 But the hand that now has shcil your blood 
 
 Shall ne'er again touch mine." 
 
 He pu'ed his beard, he tore hLs hair, 
 
 Doun on ane knee he fell. 
 And he prayed her sair to forgi'e him there. 
 
 E'er they left the lanely well.
 
 .)//.V,V/'/?/:/.,91- ()/•■ Till. Mh'.RSK. 
 
 But she Uanii away an<l kfi liiin tlicre 
 
 To liiee tlie wi'inl o' Cain ; 
 And nae niair liy Kdra's honnie banks 
 
 Was Alison seen again. 
 
 Ikit for lang, lany; years aiie ghaistly rorm 
 
 Hauntil that lanely well, 
 And waitit aye for Alison, 
 
 His secret to her to tell. 
 And mony a ane run frifjhtit hanie 
 
 \\ hen they the ghaist had seen ; 
 And men's knees did shake, and their lu'arts did (|uakf. 
 
 When they ])assit the well at e'en. 
 
 But after many lang, Jang years 
 
 'I'he Nortliivii A/eiritric 
 Tauld of the death of Alison, 
 
 And the weird that she did dree. 
 Now, whether it was the ghaist did read 
 
 The XorthcDt Men uric — 
 1 cannot tell ; l)ut never again 
 
 To the hauntit well ranie lie. 
 
 Km it well miglu l)e that where spirits meet, 
 
 W hen they leave this warld o" care, 
 He had met wi' his sister .Vlison 
 
 And tauld her his secret there. 
 I'nawed the maids of Blackerstoime 
 
 May roam the wooded dell ; 
 But never now is the water brought. 
 
 Irae tile lanesonie Butler Well. 
 
 .\iTKK Many \'F..\ks, 
 
 Oil, do you mind the days, Jean, 
 When )()U and 1 were joung/ 
 
 When luve's bev\iiching glamovnie 
 Was (Irsi around lin thing.'
 
 Agnks Mack Dkmiolm. 273 
 
 The joyous sun shone aye so fair, 
 
 The birds so sweetly sung, 
 In that enchanted spring-time 
 
 When you and I were young. 
 
 But clouds came o'er the sun, fean, 
 
 I thought ye false to me ; 
 And aye the rift was widened 
 
 By artful trickery. 
 And tales were told to you, Jean, 
 
 By that same spilefu' tongue ; 
 And so our hearts were sundered, 
 
 When you and I were young. 
 
 Since then I've struggled sair, Jean, 
 
 .Some warld's gear to win ; 
 And seas have rowed between us. 
 
 In shadow and in sun. 
 And ye are left your lane, Jean, 
 
 To fight your bairns among ; 
 And we have met again, Jean, 
 
 When we're nae langer young. 
 
 But though our hair is grey, Jean, 
 
 Our hearts are warm and true ; 
 And happy days have dawned, Jean, 
 
 At last for me and you. 
 And Jamie, Jock, and Janitie 
 
 Shall rove the woods among, 
 And mind us o' the days, Jean, 
 
 When you and I were young.
 
 Thf. following pages comprise a inimher of writers of verse, 
 7t<ho^ although 7iot natives of Berzvickshire^ have yet passed 
 a considcral'le part of their life in the county, and may 
 therefore he 7-egarded as having sonic claim to recognition in 
 the present ivork.
 
 Rew Charles Miller. 275 
 
 REV. CHARLES MILLER. 
 
 I S 1 1 - 1 ,S9 1 . 
 
 rHE Rev. Charles .Miller spent half a century of 
 his career in Berwickshire, thirt)'-eiL^ht )-ears 
 of which as minister of the United Presbyterian 
 Church, Duns. He was born at Thornliebank, 
 Renfrewshire, in 181 1, and was educated at the 
 parish school, Glasgow University, and the United 
 Secession Divinity Hall. In 1841 he accepted a call 
 to Duns as colleague to the Rev. John Robert.son. 
 After the long period of ncarh- forty years' active 
 and faithful service, he demitted his charge in 1879 
 and retircfl to private life. He died, 12th June, 
 1891. As a preacher, Mr. Miller had great natural 
 gifts. He po.sscssed the true spirit of his calling, and 
 by his polished, eloquent appeals attracted large con- 
 gregations, while in private life he w on for himself a 
 large measure of popular esteem. He published 
 in 1857 his only prose work, " Magdalene Nisbet, 
 the Maiden of the Merse : A Tale of the 
 Persecution of Charles the Second's time," which 
 was cordially received. It is full of characters, 
 incidents, and scenes of special interest to Ber- 
 wickshire readers. Po.ssessed also of true poetic 
 genius, Mr. INIiller from time to time contributed 
 numero'us poems to contemporary journals, and in 
 1882 he published a .selection of these with the title, 
 "The Three Scholars, and other Poems." ^ 
 
 ' 12111(1. Tviinliiivizh : Elliot.
 
 2-jC AflXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Duns Law. 
 We walk beneath the music of the lark, 
 Charming the ample ear of the lone sky. 
 Our lips arc silent, oft \vc pause to hark 
 His clearer warhlings flowing nnirmurcnis jjy. 
 And now the cloistering sylvan stripe is nigh, 
 Through which the panting path winds elevate ; 
 We climb, and frequent pause to feast the eye 
 At points of vantage ; ntnv, with hearts elate, 
 We tread the springy hill beyond the wicket gate. 
 
 Welcome, once more, dear mount of solitude ! 
 Loved tower of happy sights and musings. Here 
 We mingle with a blessed brotherhood 
 Of trees, flowers, bees, and other objects near ; 
 And with yon hills, and that cerulean sphere. 
 We move among the speechless, yet we talk — 
 Not by the tongue, but by the eye and ear — 
 With all that charm us, on this airy walk ! 
 Down from the kingly sky to every lilooming stalk. 
 
 This hill recalls the Past ; these slopes, that brow. 
 
 Were once alive with arn;ed thousands, who, 
 
 Scorning beneath a tyrant king to bow. 
 
 Who strove their Rights of Conscience to undo, 
 
 Came hither, and unrolled their Ijanners blue 
 
 In the Invader's face. On yonder mound, 
 
 Whose camp-like lines still draw the curious view, 
 
 .Stood Leslie's tent, and in great rings around 
 
 Ran tents and warriors over ail the embattled ground. 
 
 Since then two hundred years have stamped their changes, 
 
 Tew on this hill, but many o'er that plain ; 
 
 As the pleased eye discovers while it ranges 
 
 O'er ground once waste, now rich in grass and grain. 
 
 And decked with recent wood, and tower, and fane, 
 
 And that old liorder town's new-fledged wings 
 
 Nestled among yon trees, through which the train. 
 
 Waving its smoky pennon, weird-like springs. 
 
 Like some huge dragon on its daily journeyings I
 
 Rf.v. Charles Millkk. 
 
 How sweet ihe air tastes on this goodly lop ! 
 How swift the eye flies o'er that pictured vale : 
 Like a young eagle, joying in the scope 
 For his strong wing. Hail, ye green pastures ! hail, 
 ^■e brighter corn-fields hued with emerald pale ! 
 And hail, ye woods, from whose embowering shades 
 The stately mansion towers ! Hail, clouds, that sail 
 \\'ith the soft summer shower, and come like maids 
 Who l)ring the fountain to llic thirsty leaves and blades. 
 
 And hail ! ye scenes of ancient Border war I 
 
 Ve Cheviot Hills, that gaze stern Flodden o'er 1 
 
 And thou, Hume Castle, in the west afar 
 
 And Berwick town, dim on yon eastern shore — 
 
 Ah ! once ye flowed with streams of human gore 1 
 
 And war rang round you also, Eildons three ; 
 
 But you, brave builders of the days of yore, 
 
 And Thomas True, beneath the fairy tree, 
 
 And Scott, have crowned with noliler immortality I 
 
 Lo ! now the sun with western brilliance breaks, 
 
 And sullen Cheviot, s'mit as with a spell, 
 
 All down his side, with radiant laughter shakes ; 
 
 And bloomed with splendour is his vaward dell, 
 
 'Gainst which the purple peak of Veavering Bell, 
 
 And all her sister peaks, in clear outline, 
 
 Loom forth. O, light and shade 1 what muse can tell 
 
 With what a magic pencil ye define 
 
 The distant, formless mass, and make dull chaos shine I 
 
 The vale of Tweed a molten river washes. 
 
 Which, lake-like, o'er the distant east expands. 
 
 A thousand panes are bright with tiery flashes, 
 
 And every blade burns o'er the emerald lands. 
 
 How King-like in the glare huge Twisel stands ! 
 
 And Berwick town, though thou art far away. 
 
 Standing obscurely on Northumbrian sands, 
 
 We see, amid the dazzling western ray. 
 
 White waves and sails flash brilliant o'er thy azure bay. 
 
 277
 
 '■jS AJjXSTREL^y O/'- THE MeKSE. 
 
 Good niglil ! biavc, healthful hill ; and may ihc inuin 
 
 Be not far distant when again our feet 
 
 Will walk amid tlie violets that adorn 
 
 Thy grassy brow. Be oft-times our retreat, 
 
 Blessing our hearts, and pouring river sweet 
 
 Of bracing air through all our panting veins ; 
 
 Raising our spirits to the mercy-seal 
 
 With thankfulness to Him, who loving reigns, 
 
 And round us pours the bliss of skies, and hilU, and plains I 

 
 Charles J^hilii- Gibsox. 279 
 
 CHARLES rill 1. 11' (HHSON. 
 
 1 820- 1 888. 
 
 i^^HARLKS PHILIP GIBSON was born in Lciih 
 V_^ in 1820, but, on the death of his father, he 
 went to live in Northumberland, and received his 
 early education at Woolen Returning;" to Scotland 
 he entered a lawyer's office in ICdinburgh, and at the 
 same time attended classes in the University with a 
 view to becoming a barrister. His health, however, 
 (giving way, he turned his attention to agriculture. 
 For over sixteen years he farmed PVjulden West 
 Mains, and in the district was, along with his first 
 wife— a sister of Professor Marcus Dods — highly 
 respected for his kind and genial disposition, and the 
 keen interest he took in the welfare of the people 
 around him. In 1862 he retired to Edinburgh, where 
 he held several offices of trust in connection with 
 benevolent institutions ; then he removed to Dundee, 
 and again to Leeds, where the remainder of his life 
 was spent. He died suddenly on 3rd March, 1888. 
 
 In 1876 he published anonj-mousl}-, through 
 Messrs. Edmonston & Douglas. Edinburgh, a poem 
 in four books, t(j which he ga\e the title of Cheerful- 
 ness. Pleasantly written, in the st)'le of Goldsmith's 
 Deserted Village^ it is full of country life and the 
 sweet scenes around Foulden, and is no mean contri- 
 bution to the richness of Berwickshire minstrelsy.
 
 2 8o MlXSTKELSY OF THE MeR3K. 
 
 From Cheerfulness. 
 
 Lo : Scotlands beauleous Merse enchants my eyes, 
 Where in cahii loveliness fair Foulden lies : — 
 Dear scene of varied as of countless charms, 
 Fair woods embrace thee %vilh their slielt'ring arms, 
 Nature round thee her gayest mantle flings, 
 While with her purest melody she sings ; 
 With myriad flow'rs adorns the dewy ground, 
 And bids their blended fragrance breathe around : 
 Yes, earth thro' her wide realms few spots can show 
 Where more of Eden's charms still ling'ring glow. 
 
 Home of my happy youth ! — Aft'eclion's seat, 
 My heart fond lingers near thy blest retreat, 
 And oft in musing mood I pensive mourn 
 O'er friends l(jng lost who never can return ; 
 While mem'ry's tones their forms so clear recall. 
 The heart is fain to let the curtain fall. 
 
 Methinks I see thee on thy em'rald mound 
 Which lofty trees with spreading boughs surround- 
 Far to the south our ravish'd eyes behold 
 A cultur'd plain innnense its charms unfold — 
 (No fairer landscape boasts our lovely isle I) 
 Tnnum'rous fields as one great garden smile, 
 Tweed's classic stream meanders thro' the plain, 
 (ileams the bright grass, and waves the yellow grain : 
 The lordly hall 'mid wide-spread woods displayed. 
 The snug farm-house in homelier charms array d, 
 The sacred spire, the churchyard, hallowed spot I 
 The ancient castle, and the poor man's cot, 
 All these, sweet blent in shadow and in light, 
 Refresh the heart while they regale the sight, 
 While, far remote, rise shadowy on the view. 
 The hoary Cheviots robed in misty blue. 
 
 Sweet Foulden ! as on thee I lift mine eyes, 
 Bright'ning from out the past thy varied scenes arise: — 
 The modest church in i\7-robes array'd, 
 Round which in gambols whisp'ring breezes play'd, 
 High branching elms circling the still churchyard, 
 Where countless graves upheave the dark-green sward,
 
 Charles Piiilw Gibson. 281 
 
 The sombre yews, like guardians uf the lieaci, 
 Cast friendly shadows o'er their lowly bed, 
 \Vhile high in air the crows' tiimulluous sound 
 In plaintive imirniVing music floats around. 
 
 Hard l)y the churchyard wall, in sylvan shade, 
 The rural manse in mingled charms array'd 
 (Blest Ixith by art and nature) gleams in view, 
 'Mid fidw'rs of every scent and ev'ry hue. 
 
 Sweet Foulden ! loveliest of the rural scene, 
 The trysting-place where all the charms convene, 
 Thee my fond heart with loving pride surveys, 
 Blest w ilh tlie charms that bless'd my early days, 
 While em'lous art her utmost eftbrt tries. 
 And to adorn thee e'en with Nature vies. 
 
 The humblest cot has charms around its door, 
 Flow'rs on the air their blended fragrance pour : 
 I see thy features as of old displayed — 
 The joiner's shed where piles of wood were laid. 
 The dame-school (ivy-clad) whose cheerful din 
 Told of the youthful scholars rang'd within, 
 The village shop and ])ost-of^ice combin'd 
 Once dear to all — squire, farmer, cottar, hind ; 
 The parish school, whose tumults surging high 
 Startled the ear of strangers passing by, 
 While in the dreamy sunshine lay serene 
 (Soothed by the trees' deep shade) the village green ; 
 The blacksmith's cot, with gorgeous ivy drest, 
 By woodliine, rose, and jessamine caressVl, 
 Smil'd like a bow'r, where e'en 'neath summer's ray 
 Noon's light shone, shaded, like to twilight grey.
 
 J 82 Ml.WSTKELSV OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 REV. ROBERT NAI SMITH. 
 
 1822-1891. 
 
 '^ T^HE Rev. Robert NaLsmith, for over thirty years 
 X an esteemed Berwickshire minister, was born 
 near 1 .esmahagow on 4th August, 1822. He had the 
 advantage of a pious parentage, and received a 
 moderate education at various schools. The first years 
 of his active life were spent in clerking and teaching. 
 In 1841 he entered the Arts classes in Glasgow 
 University, and having passed through the Divinity 
 Hall of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, after 
 several broken and intermittent sessions, he was 
 licensed to preach. In 1861 he accepted a hearty 
 and harmonious call to the pastorate of this denomin- 
 ation at Chirnsidc, where he continued, abundant 
 in labours (){ usefulness to his congregation and the 
 surrounding district, until his death on 31st Januar\', 
 1 89 1. In 1847, wliilst a teacher at Kirkintilloch, he 
 published a volume of verse entitled " Necropolis, 
 and other P(jems," which met with a cordial welcome. 
 He wrote also a small collection of " Moral and 
 Social Songs for Children," and many fugitive verses 
 that are now only to be found in the " jjoets' corners" of 
 local newsjjapers, and in the religious and temperance 
 journals of the da)'. Ik- was also the author of a 
 " Historical Sketch of the Reformed Presbyterian 
 Church," and of a volume of" Sermons," published a 
 year or two before his death.
 
 Kill . Ko/iEKT iVaismit//. 283 
 
 TiiK .Maki'yk's Gkavk. 
 
 He sleeps hciicath the sod, 
 
 The patriotic brave ; 
 \\ hod ne'er disown his (lod, 
 
 Or live as Error's slave ; 
 ^^'hose loyal spirit ne'er would own 
 As Zion's Head an earthly crown. 
 
 The grass waves o'er his head, 
 The rude winds whistle hy ; 
 
 They wake not now the dead 
 Nor waft his prayerful sigh. 
 
 They only sweep now o'er his grave, 
 
 And make his grassy covering wave. 
 
 The wild storm on yon hill, 
 The dirge-like sounding gale, 
 
 The niurnuiring of yon rill. 
 .Seem all for him to wail ; 
 
 Seem all to whisper in my ear, 
 
 A martyred wanderer slumbers here. 
 
 But why dt)es not some stone 
 Mark where his ashes lie ? 
 
 Unpitied and unknown 
 Must thus the martyr die? 
 
 He who has fairer laurels won 
 
 Than heroes gained at Marathon. 
 
 His sufferings aiul iiis name 
 May not mark history's page; 
 
 But these his s(jns will claim. 
 In many a bitter age ; 
 
 And many a fireside tale of woe 
 
 They'll tell of him who sleeps below.
 
 .84 
 
 M/XSTKELSV OF THE MersK. 
 
 Even those who scorned his cause, 
 ^^"l^o Iirolce his solemn vow, 
 
 And l)owe(l to peijiued laws, 
 Would fondly claim him now, 
 
 And say tlie truths for which he bled 
 
 Are those hy which ihcy now arc led. 
 
 The rugged mountain steep, 
 Or hollow cavcrned glen, 
 
 Where he might ]iray and weep 
 Unknown to ruthless men, 
 
 Was all the hon^c his life supplied, 
 
 And formed his death-couch when I 
 
 diei 
 
 There lie hi.-^ song of jiraise, 
 There he his solemn prayer, 
 
 With gralcfid heart wnuld raise 
 To (lod wile) cheered liim there. 
 
 And thence his spirit took its flight 
 
 To realms of endless joy and light. 
 
 Let those who now would wave 
 
 The banner he unfurled, 
 And now would decl< his grave. 
 
 Declare, before the world. 
 The whole cause of the honoured dead. 
 And show that Christ's their only Head.
 
 K. V. O. E. 285 
 
 E. V. O. E. 
 
 1 833- 1 890. 
 
 [The w liter of some chainiiiijf 1\ rics iindei' llie above initials was Mar^'aiet Thom- 
 son, a (laughter of the late Henry lieveridtfc, advocate, Edinburgh, of Inziovar, 
 parish of Torrylturn, Dumfriesshire. In 1SC2 she became the wife of the Kev. Stejihen 
 I5ell, of Eyemouth, who died in 18S1. Her death occurred on 9th Avigust, 1890, 
 at KiiiKf^wood Firs, Haskniere, Surrey, in consK|uence of a carriage accident.] 
 
 TlIK. llKRRING DkAVK. 
 
 O it's fine when the boats come in, 
 
 When the boats come in so early ; 
 When the lift it is blue, and the herring nets are fn'. 
 
 And the sun glints on a' thing rarely ; 
 \Vhen the wives buskit braw, an' the bairns an a', 
 
 Come linkin' doun to the quay, O, 
 The very fisher dogs pu' each other by the lugs. 
 And join in the general glee, O. 
 
 Then hey for the boats, for the bonny braw boats, 
 
 That are bound for the Drave the year, O, 
 Long live our auld toun, may she never gang doun, 
 And God keep the men and the gear, O ! 
 
 The auld, auld men come hirplin' then. 
 
 And " ahoy " to the fisher lads so cheerily, 
 When there's so mony crans, there'll be pligluin' o' han's, 
 
 For the lasses lo'e a fine Drave dearly ! 
 O there's mirth an' there's glee — on ilk face do you see 
 
 The ghaist o' a gloom or a froun, O ? 
 Na, na, though we may greet sair some other day, 
 
 There's a laugh ower the hale o' the toun, O ! 
 Then hey for the boats, etc. 
 
 The sea is our ain, no lordly domain 
 
 Can compare wi' our acres o' ocean. 
 As freemen we stand, and to bow to command — 
 
 It ne'er entered our heads sic a notion ! 
 Come woe or come weal, well stick by the creel. 
 
 The yawl an' the net an' the line, O; 
 The storm may come soon, but there's Ane up abune 
 
 Will carry us safe through the brine, O I 
 Then hey for the boats, etc.
 
 >86 ]\flXSTRELSV OF THE MeKSE. 
 
 Low SUMMKR WlN'I). 
 
 O low, low wind, 
 
 sweet, sad wind, 
 
 What Jiileth thee this suinnKr eve? 
 
 1 cannot hear 
 
 Thy moaning drear, 
 But I, too, must in sorrow grieve I 
 I feel thy weird, unearthly touch, 
 
 Swee]i o'er my heart -a harp for thee ! 
 And oh, how mournful, sweet, and strange 
 
 Is that awakened melody ! 
 
 Is't of the Past, 
 
 A lay thou hast, 
 Or of some coming grief or ]iain ? 
 
 'Twixt thee and me 
 
 Some link must be, 
 Some chord that thrills between us twain I 
 In thy low, sobbing voice I hear 
 
 The voice I heard at eve and morn 
 Long since, when loud the branches swayed 
 
 Round the old home where I was born ! 
 
 A Forest child. 
 
 Nursed in the wild. 
 Schooled early in sweet Nature's lore. 
 
 Though far away 
 
 P'rom Nature's sway, 
 Her spell is o'er me evermore ! 
 
 And chief of all her faery wiles, 
 
 Ilalh thine, O Harper Wind, the power. 
 To stir old feelings into life, 
 
 K'en in the soul's most !an"ui(l hour I
 
 Rev. Peter M earns. 287 
 
 REV. PETER MEARNS. 
 B. 1 8 16. 
 
 [TIiu l{f\. IVler Meanis is well known in I'envickshire, in which comity he h;is 
 now resided for close on half a centurj-. I'.orn at Ulenconner, in the parish of 
 Ochiltree, Ayrshire, in 181C, he was educated at Mnirkirk and Lanark Schools, 
 and at Glasgrow University, being' ordained in lS4<o to the pastorate of the United 
 I'resbjterian Conffregation at Coldstream. In 1887 he edited a very acceptable 
 "Life of James Ilyslop," author of the Camei-dniaii'a Dream. He has also 
 published a book on "Mnirkirk and its Viciniti," several sermons and tractates, 
 and a large immbor of hymns.) 
 
 ScRirruRE Study. 
 
 I .saw lier bend an eager look, 
 
 As if intent to find 
 Some treasine in the Sacred Book 
 
 Hid from tlie careless mind. 
 
 I saw the book of Truth revealM 
 
 In which the treasure lay, 
 Which never fails its truth to yield 
 
 To those who read and pray. 
 
 She read of threats and promises 
 
 Inspiring hope and fear, 
 She read of loving-kindnesses, 
 
 And righteousness brought near. 
 
 I saw again her placid mien, 
 
 An angel's look was there ; 
 A Spartan virgin ne'er was seen 
 
 Possessed of charms so fair.
 
 288 MlXSTRELSY OF THE MrRSE. 
 
 JOHN REID. 
 B. 1836. 
 
 [The following p.jem is oik? of many written by Mr. .John Reid, a native of 
 Kalho, Midlothian, Imt whose life ha,s been largely passed in the fair fields of the 
 Merse. He is a frequent tontribntor to the local press, and worthily deserves a 
 place in this collection.] 
 
 TlIK L.\SS O' KiDSHIF.L Gi.EN. 
 
 When .summer'.s sun is sinking low- 
 Far in the distant West, 
 
 I feel the lover's genial glow 
 With rapture fill my breast ; 
 
 For there is ane, a .secret ane, 
 I lo'c abiine them a', 
 
 Anil I'll meet her down in Kidshiel Glen 
 When the evening shadows fa'. 
 
 ril rowe me in my shepherd's plaid 
 
 And ower the Henly Hill ; 
 And the dreary den.s o' Otterburn, 
 
 ril cro.ss them wi' a will 
 For I ken my lassie's waitin' 
 
 By the .secret trystin' tree; 
 There's virtue in that winning smile 
 
 And true love in her e'e. 
 
 The gloamin' shadows .saftly fa' ; 
 
 A' Nature's gane to rest ; 
 The hills and vales and a' aroond 
 
 In sombre hues are dress'd ; 
 But the flame that's in my bosom 
 
 The power o't nane can ken, 
 It draws me, like the loadstone, 
 
 To the lass o' Kidshiel Glen. 
 
 There's a grandeur in the solitudes 
 
 O' the everlasting hills. 
 While nimbly doon their rugged sides 
 
 Kin the merry ripplin' rills ; 

 
 John Reiik 2S9 
 
 Wliore the muircock, whmip, nnd plover 
 
 Hy birthright have their home ; 
 'Mang tliese riigge'l scenes o' Nature 
 
 'Tis my delight to roam. 
 
 « 
 
 There's serenity aroond me 
 
 In the sweet, sequestered glen, 
 While musing hy the purling stream 
 
 Kar frae the haunts o' men ; 
 But the burden o' my everj' thought 
 
 Is centred, love, on thee. 
 And I ken that thou art wait in' 
 
 Df)on the gloamin' glen for me. 
 
 Wi' lengthy ste|) I move alang 
 
 Doon through the windin' vale, 
 'Mang the wild flow'rs nodding gaily 
 
 In the evening's gentle gale ; 
 These modest gems o' beauty rare 
 
 Seem whispering love to me 
 As they point me to yon hallowed spot, 
 
 The secret tryslin' tree. 
 
 As wi" manly pride I clasp her hand 
 
 By Kidshiers wimplin' stream. 
 There's a flutter in her bosom 
 
 \\ here love's image rules supreme ; 
 I feel my inward soul is moved 
 
 By something that's divine, 
 \\'hen I rowe her in my shepherd's plaid 
 
 And press her lips to mine. 
 
 The joy that oft has sealed my lips 
 
 Nae langer will I hain, 
 But I'll speir my lovely Mary 
 
 Gin she'll be a' my ain ; 
 And share wi' me yon shepherd's cot, 
 
 Wi' its humble but and ben, 
 And by Heaven I vow I'll aye prove true 
 
 To the lass o' Kidshiel Cilen.
 
 '■OO AffXSTRRLSV OP THE MeRSF.. 
 
 ANNIE BURTON EASTON. 
 
 B. 1844. 
 
 IThf followini; versfs were written liy Mrs. Annie Burton Kastoti, ;i native of 
 Yarrow Hraes. l>iit who spent many years of her life in Herwiekshire. She is 
 now a resident of .Manitoba, ha\ inj,' enii^rrated with her husband to Canada in 
 18S4. Somethinsr of the old home-land still lingers in the name of their present 
 al>ode— Huntly Brae. In 188:5 Mrs. Easton jmblished, throujrh the Mossr.s. Knther- 
 fnrd, of Kelso, a small volume of her musings with the title. " The Tide of Life and 
 other I'oenis" (pp. 4s). These are full of tender memories, and tirc.it he tf>e fjentle 
 spirit of a true woman's loviii'.;' heart.] 
 
 "DiNNA FoKc.pri: Mk." 
 
 " Dinna forget me I" When the glowing dawn 
 Hursts through the eastern haze upon the sight, 
 And, with still hand, night's curtain is withdrawn, 
 These words shall shine in rays of living light : 
 " Dinna forget me." 
 
 " Dinna forget me I '" \\ Inn the noontide sun. 
 With bright effulgence, gleams o'er glen and glade. 
 Till in the west his glowing goal is won, 
 Their sound shall wra]i me round like welcome shade : 
 " Dinna forget me." 
 
 " Dinna forget me ! " When the midnight chimes 
 King r)ut with solemn peal upon the air, 
 Though far my feet may roam in distant climes, 
 I'll hear the echoes whispering even there : 
 " Dinna forget me." 
 
 " Dinna forget me ! " When misfortunes lower, 
 .Vnd hide the sunbeams 'ncath a gloomy pall — 
 As on the earth, like soft reviving shower- 
 In gentlest accents, on my heart they'll fall : 
 " Dinna forget me."
 
 AXNIE JyUKTOX EaSTOX. 2()\ 
 
 " Dinna forget me I " Sound they low and clear. 
 Deep in my heart to sweetest music set ; 
 111 thrilling cadence, to each listening ear, 
 I'll softly sing them o'er : " Dinna forget ; " 
 " Dinna forget me." 
 
 " Dinna forget me !" Though time's iron pen 
 Writes changes; though bright glittering stars may set; 
 Though silvery summer moons may wax and wane, 
 Till this heart cease to lieal, I'll not forget : 
 ril ne'er forget thee !
 
 292 .]//.\ST/i:r:/.si- of the Mersi:. 
 
 MISCELLANFIOUS. 
 
 Symon Gray, styled " of r)iinsc', Bcrwicksliire," :i curious character 
 about the end of last century, published a large number of pamphlets and 
 poetical fragments such as "The Rhynister" (1781); "The Rejoiciad" 
 (1786); " The Messiah ; " '• Latin Poems and Verses in English, etc." 
 (1 781). A historical catalogue of his writings, published and un- 
 publi>hed, wa> privately printed in 1840, containing a list of no fewer 
 than 158 articles and sketches from his pen. Burns came across Gray 
 during his Border tour, when the latter submitted several of his rhymes 
 for the approval of the former, which, not coming up to the poet's 
 standard, were returned with a stinging epigram of which only the 
 opening passage has been preserved : — 
 
 " Dear Symon (iray, the other day 
 When you sent me some rhyme, 
 I could not tlien just ascertain 
 It's worth, for want of time. 
 But now to-day, g(jod Mr. Gr.ay, 
 
 I've read it o'er and o'er. 
 Tried all my skill, but tind Ini still. 
 
 Just where I was before. 
 We auld wives' minions gie our opinions, 
 
 .Solicited or no', 
 Then of its faults my honest thoughts 
 I'll give — and here they go." 
 The rest is lost, but we are told the piece concluded thus : — 
 " Such damnefl bombast, no age that's past 
 Can show, nor lime to come." 
 
 .Vl.EXANDKR Park, author of " The Minstrel's Daughter," a tale of 
 the Scottish Border, in four cantos, printed at Edinl)urgh in 1824, and 
 dedicated to William Hay, tsr|., of Duns Castle, may have been a 
 native of the county — jjossibly of Duns. No authentic information 
 concerning him has been procured. In the aforementioned work 
 there i-. an exceedingly able ballad in the old style on the murder of 
 the Chevalier (le la Basiie.
 
 Miscellaneous. 293 
 
 "Serjeant" David Brown, of Homdean, as he was commonly 
 styled, was an old soldier, who, when his martial days were over, 
 pedlared the Borderland with a variety of wares. He wrote a large 
 number of rhyming epistles and other poems, nearly all of which, 
 however, are of inferior merit. 
 
 Jamks Koherison, presumably a native of the county, published 
 at Berwick in 1835 a small volume of " Poems on \'arious Subjects, 
 consisting of the beauty of Nature, Love, Morality, and Patriotism." 
 He was the author of another work — " The Christian's Guide to Civil 
 Liberty and Sacred Truth." 
 
 Thomas White, officer of Excise at Eyemouth, published in 1838, 
 at Berwick, a small volume entitled, "l^yemouth Musings ; or. Poems on 
 Hinnorous, Interesting, and Important Subjects." He was a man 
 well known in the district, universally respected, and his poetry is 
 clearly indicative of his high-toned character. 
 
 John IIewit, of Auchencrow, a labourer and farm-servant, wrote a 
 nund)er of songs and ballads on the " Witches of Edincraw," but none 
 of these have been printed. 
 
 Thomas Lec.rrwood Hately (1815-1867), born at Greenlaw, 
 hymnologist and composer of several very fine tunes in our Church 
 Psalmodies — " Glencairn," " Leuchars," " Makerstoun," " Nenthorn," 
 "Calwood," "Zwingle," etc. He occasionally wrote verse, Ijut very 
 little of it has been pvd)lished.
 
 THE BALLADS OF BERWICKSHIRE, 
 
 THK BROOM O' THE COWDENKNOWES. 
 
 " O Cowfleiiknowes, thy bonny broom 
 So famous in old sotij;, 
 Where shepherds tuned their Doric reed, 
 Its yellow blooms among." — Sanderson. 
 
 [The well-known pastoral songs of The JlriKiin o' the Cowdenknowcs have 
 undoubtedly s|)run{; from some original ballad of the same name. Sir Walter 
 Seott published in his " Border Minstrelsy" what professed to be a very ancient 
 ballad bearing this title — (see below) — and there are several similar compositions 
 both in English and Scottish oollections. In the " Roxburghe Ballads," Vol. I., 
 No. 190, we find the following broadside printed at London by F"rancis Cowles in 
 the reign of Charles II., or earlier : 
 
 " The lo\ ely m^rthern lass — 
 Who in this ditty here complaining shews 
 What harm she got milking her daddj''s ewes," 
 
 to a pleasant Scotch tune, called The Broome o' Cowdeiihtwwes, with the 
 refrain : 
 
 "O the broome, the bonnie, bonnie broome, 
 
 The broome o' Cowdenknowes ; 
 
 Fain would I be in the North Countrie, 
 
 To milk my daddj''s ewes." 
 
 Chambers tells that he saw a Jacobite song printed on a sheet at the time of the 
 Rebellion of 171>'i, the burden of which was : 
 
 " O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom. 
 
 The broom of the Coldingknowes, 
 
 O had I back my king again 
 
 Then would my heart rejoice." 
 The tiiiif ^r.-. appi'ur> lo lie of consideralile antiipiity. In the Pep.^s' collection of a 
 very early d.ate there is another song from the press of Cowles, entitled The New 
 Broome, which is sung to a tune similar to the present Broom o' the Cou'de)ikiiowes. 
 In Playford's " Dancing Master," as early as IC.'JO, there is a tune called Broom, 
 the Bomii/, Tiunnii Broom, and it is likewise alluded to in the well-know n book of 
 thai period- Burton's " .Anatomy of Melanchol.\ ." It is also found, with a slight 
 alteration in Mrs. Crocket's MS. book (1709), and Gay selected it for one of his 
 songs in the Beggar'n Opera (1728), beginning—" The miser thus a shilling sees."
 
 2g6 M/xsTA'j-JLsy of the A/ekse. 
 
 Iti'jiiirdini; the Uallad, lliere are inaii.\ versions of it. In Hcrd'.s collection (Vol- 
 I., pjij^e ij'J), published in 1772, the ballad of Bonnie Maij is in its nature nearly 
 identical with the fSnunn i>' thf Cowilfiikiiotrfx. In Bm-han's " Ancient Hallads 
 and Son'^'s of tlu- North of tScotlaiid" (Vol. I., pa^'c 17'-!). there is a limoni o' the 
 Cou'il'iikiKiiC''!' soineivhat different, however, from Scott's copy, while Kiiiloch, in 
 his collection, has printed other two- '/'Ai» Laini of Ofhiltrei' and The l^nhd of 
 Loch life— \ioth of which hare a strikiny; resemblance lo the Border Minstrelsy 
 \ersion. 
 
 The sonjf below which ininudiately follows the ballad is taken from Uanisa^'s 
 Ti-n-Tah/r MUi-illdnii (1724), and is si};iied with the initials S. K. The author 
 has ne\er been discovered. Robert Crawford's version, which also was first 
 printed in Ramsay's IHixcelltuni, will be found at page 72 of this volume. Two 
 modern versions of the sonir are ajipendcd. 
 
 Cowdeiiknowes, pleasantlv situated on the banks of the Leader, a little over a 
 mile from Karlston, is un(|uestioiiably one of the most beautiful spots in the 
 Scottish Borderland. "The very word has a magical elfect on our spirit; it 1ms 
 been embalmed bj' pastoral music, and carries us back to the simple usages of our 
 ancestors— to the folds and bii^'bts, and ewe-milkings of Scotland's olden time." 
 The name is derived from tlie Canibrolirilish VliiiiUi'-ilini, which signifies " the 
 wooded hill," thence transformed into CoUlen an<l Cowilen. The etyniolog.\ from 
 the .Scotch woril ijowdia, for Knglish golden, is plausible enough, but it is probably 
 erroneous. The broom is not now so plentiful as when ixjets sang its praises in 
 the by -gone days. Much of the land is under cultivation, and onl.v here and 
 there, in scattered jiatches on rough biae sides, arc the sole remnants of its 
 ancient glory.] 
 
 Tilt OKKa.NAL Ballad ok tiik Bkoo.m o' i hk Co\vdenk.\o\vp:s. 
 
 (From Scott's " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border."! 
 
 O the broom, and llic Ijonny. l)i>nny l^rooni, 
 And the l)room of tlic Cowdeiiknowes I 
 
 And aye sae swecl as the lassie sang, 
 r the hucht, milking the ewes. 
 
 'I lie iiills were higli on ilka side, 
 
 An' the biicht i' the lirk^ o' the hill, 
 And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang, 
 
 Out o'er the head o' yon hill. 
 
 There was a troop o' genllemeii 
 
 Catne ri<ling merrilie by. 
 And one of them has rode out o' the way, 
 
 To the bucht to the bonny may, 
 
 ' Hollow.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 297 
 
 " Weel may yc save an' see, bunny lass, 
 
 An' weel nuiy ye save an' see." — 
 " An' sac wi' you, ye weel-hred kniglu, 
 
 And wliat's your will wi' me?" — 
 
 " The night is misty and mirk, fair may, 
 And I have ridden astray. 
 And will you be so kind, fair may, 
 As come out and jioint my way ? ' — 
 
 " Kide out, ritie out, ye ramp rider I 
 
 Vt)ur steed's baith stout and Strang ; 
 For out of the bucht I darena come, 
 Fur fear 'at ye do me wrang." — 
 
 "O winna ye pity me, bonny lass, 
 O winna ye jiity me? 
 An' winna ye pity my poor steed. 
 Stands trembling at yon tree ? " — 
 
 " I wadna pity your poor steed, 
 
 Though it were tied to a thorn ; 
 
 For if ye wad gain my love the nicht, 
 
 Ye wad slight me ere the morn. 
 
 " For I ken you by your weel-busket hat, 
 And yoitr merrie twinkling ee. 
 That ye're the laird o' the Oakland hills, 
 An' ye may weel seem for to be." — 
 
 " But I am not the laird o' the Oakland hills, 
 Ye're far mista'en o' me ; 
 But Fm ane o' the men about his house. 
 An' right aft in his companie." — 
 
 He"s ta'en her by the middle jimp, 
 
 And by the grass-green sleeve ; 
 He's lifted her over the fauld-dyke, 
 
 And speer'd at her sma' leave. 
 
 O he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd. 
 
 And streek'd her yellow hair, 
 
 "Now, take ye that, my bonny may. 
 
 Of me till you licar niair." —
 
 :gS MiysTRELS)- of the Merse. 
 
 O he's leapt on his berry-brown steed, 
 An' soon he's o'erta'en his men ; 
 
 And ane and a' cried out to him, 
 " O master, ye've tarry'd lang I " 
 
 " O I hae been east, and I hac been west, 
 An' I hae lieen far o'er tlie knowes, 
 But the bonniest lass that ever I saw 
 Is i' the Inicht, milking the ewes." 
 
 She set the cog' upon lier liead, 
 An' she's gane singing hame — 
 " O where hae ye been, my ae daughter ? 
 Ve hae na been your lane." — 
 
 " O naebody was wi' me, father, 
 
 naebody has been wi' me ; 
 The night is misty and mirk, father, 
 
 Ve may gang to the door and see. 
 
 " Hut wae be to your ewe-herd, father. 
 And an ill deed may he dee ; 
 He bug- the bucht at the beck o' the knowe, 
 And a tod ^ has frighted me. 
 
 " There come a tod to the bucht door. 
 The like I never saw ; 
 And ere he had ta'en the lamb he did, 
 
 1 had lourd'* he had ta'en them a'." — 
 
 O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane, 
 
 Fifteen weeks and three, 
 That lassie began to look thin and pale. 
 
 An' to long for his merry twinkling ee. 
 
 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day, 
 She was ca'ing out her father's kye, 
 
 I3yc came a troop o' gentlemen, 
 A' nierrilie riding liye. 
 
 Milkin-r-pail. '' Btiilt. » Fox. ■• Leifcr. Rather.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 299 
 
 " Weel may ye save and see, lH)nny may, 
 Weel may )'e save and see I 
 ^^'eel I wat, ye he a very l)onny may, 
 Hut whae's aught thai hahc ye are wi'? " 
 
 Never a word could that las;,ie say, 
 
 For never a ane could she hlanie, 
 An' never a vvorcl could the lassie say, 
 
 Hut " I have a gudeman at hanie." — 
 
 " Ve lied, ye lied, my very bonny may, 
 Sae loud as I hear you lie ; 
 For dinna ye mind that misty night 
 I was i' the bucht wi' thee ? 
 
 •' I ken you l)y your middle sae jimp, 
 An' your merry twinkling ee, 
 That ye're the bonny lass i' the Cowdenknowes, 
 An' ye way weel seem for to be." — 
 
 Tlien he's leapt oft his l^erry-brown steed. 
 An' he's set that fair may on — 
 •• Ca" out your kye, gude father, yoursell, 
 For she's never ca' them out again. 
 
 •• I am the laird of the Oakland hills, 
 I hae thirty plows and three ; 
 An' I hae gotten the bonniest lass 
 That's in a' the South Countrie." 
 
 The Broom o' the Cowdenknowes. 
 
 [l"ioiii Kanisay's Tea-Tiildc MisceUanii, \~i\.] 
 How blithe, ilk morn, was I to see 
 
 My swain come o'er the hill I 
 Tie skipt the Inun and flew to me : 
 I met him with good-will. 
 
 Oh, the brume, the l^onnie, bonnie brume I 
 
 The brume o' the Cowdenknowes ! 
 I wish I were with my dear s\Nain, 
 W ith his pipe and my yowes.
 
 300 J//.VST/i£LSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 I wanted neither yowe nor lamb, 
 
 \\ hile his flock near me lay ; 
 He gathered in my sheep at night, 
 
 And cheered me a' the day. 
 
 He Uined his pipe, and played sac sweet, 
 
 The birds sal listening bye ; 
 E"en the dull cattle stood and gazed, 
 
 Charmed with the mclixlye. 
 
 While thus we spent our time, by turns, 
 
 Betwixt our flocks and play, 
 I envied not the fairest dame, 
 
 Though e'er so rich or gay. 
 
 Hard fate, that I should banished l;e, 
 
 Gang heavily, and mourn, 
 Because I loved the kindest swain 
 
 That ever yet was born. 
 
 I le did oblige me every hour ; 
 
 Could I but faithful be? 
 He stawe my heart ; could I refuse 
 
 Whate'er he ask'd of me ? 
 
 My doggie, and my little kit 
 
 That held my wee souji whey, 
 My plaidie, brooch, and crookit stick, 
 
 May now lie useless by. 
 
 Adieu, ye Cowdenknowes, adieu I 
 
 Fareweel, a' pleasures there ! 
 Ve go<ls, restore nie to my swain — 
 Is a' I crave or care. 
 
 Oh, the brume, the bonnic, bonnie brume ! 
 
 The iirume o' the Cowdenknowes ! 
 I wish I were with my dear swain. 
 With his pij>e and my yowes I 
 
 S. K.
 
 The J^a/./.ads o/ Berwickshire. 301 
 
 BV ROIiKRT GlI.FII.I.AX [1798-1850]. 
 [From Woods " Soiijfs of ScotIiiii<I," Vol. I., i>. f.(i.: 
 
 () thou broom, tlum l)onnic Imsh o' broom I 
 
 I leave my land anil thee, 
 Where thou nnd freedom flourished aye — 
 
 \\ here Seotia's sttns are free. 
 The Indian vales are rich and fair, 
 
 And bright is their flow'r)- bloom ; 
 Hut sad their rtowers and myrtle l)o\ver> 
 
 Without my native broom. 
 
 O ihdu bonnie. l^onnie broom I 
 
 When wilt thou, thou bonnie bush o' broom. 
 
 Grow on a foreign strand ? 
 That I may think when I look on thee 
 
 Tm still in loved Scotland. 
 But ah ! that thought can never more be mine, 
 
 Though thou beside me sprang ; 
 Nor though the lintie, Scotia's bird, 
 
 Should follow wi' its sang. 
 
 O tlidu bonnie. bonnie broom ! 
 
 Thy branches green might wave at e'en. 
 At morn lliy Howers might blaw, 
 
 Ijui no to me on the Cowdenknowes, 
 Nor yet liv Ettrick .Shaw. 
 
 thou broom, ihou bonnie Imsh o' broom I 
 So sweet to memor)' ; 
 
 1 maist could weep for clays gane by 
 
 When I think on days to be. 
 
 Scotland may ca' forth a sigh, 
 And thou, sweet broom, a tear. 
 
 But I'll no tak' thee frae the braes 
 To which thou'st lang been dear. 
 
 O thou tionnie, bonnii- l-room I
 
 302 M/NSTKELsy OF THE l\l ERSE. 
 
 [Kioni " MolcMlies of .Scotland." By .\rcliilial(l Hill, Esq. Edinburfe'h ; 
 Privately Printed, Isl'J.J 
 
 \\'hen far awa' frae Cowden's bonny haugh, 
 
 Frae Leader vvimplin' clear ; 
 I sit my lane, and think o' days now gane, 
 
 U' day.s baith .sad and dear, 
 
 the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, 
 Tlic broom o' llie Covvdenknowes ; 
 
 1 wish I were amant; the yellow l)room 
 A-herdin' o' my yowes ; 
 
 O the broom, the bonny, i;onny broom. 
 
 And Jeannic fair, .she aft wad meet me there. 
 
 Sweet as the rose in June ; 
 We little fear'd the heavy, heavy weird 
 
 Wad jmrt us twa sae soon. 
 O the broom, etc. 
 
 .\mang the broom, sae bright wi' yellow bloom, 
 
 We trystit aye the same ; 
 .\nd ower the brae, when her wee laiubs did stray, 
 
 I wear'd them canny hanie. 
 O the broom, etc. 
 
 How sweet to share the soft and caller air, 
 
 The grass so fresh and green ; 
 .•\nd, though her luve .she wadna free declare. 
 
 It meltit in her cen. 
 O the broom, etc. 
 
 But a' gaed wrang, an<l I was bowne e'er lang 
 
 To cross the roarin' faem ; 
 Iler puir auld <laddy wasna fit to gang. 
 
 She stay'd wi' him at hame. 
 O the broom, etc. 
 
 So ower the sea she couldna follow me. 
 
 Or cast her lot wi' mine ; 
 .\nd, wae to j)art, my sad and dowie heart. 
 
 It has no cheer'd sin.syne, 
 O the broom, etc.
 
 The Ballads of Berwicksiiuu-:. 30;; 
 
 AULD MAITLAND. 
 
 " Wha does not know the Maitland bliiid, 
 Thu best in a' the land ? 
 In whilk sometime the honour stood 
 And worsliip of Scotland." 
 
 Ti) tlia ('((title of Lclliiiiijtiiii. 
 
 [Tliis hallud was taken down from the recitation of the "Ktlrick Shepherd's'' 
 mother, and first printed by Seott in the "Border Minstrelsy." In its present 
 form there are distini't traces of modernisation, but the orij^inal version must 
 have been of some antiquity, dating probably as far liack as the end of the 
 thirteenth or bej;iiinin;4' of the fourteenth century. The incidents, if at all 
 historical, seem to have occurred during the Enj,'lish and Scottish wars of that 
 time, and the chief figure in the ballad is Sir Richard Maitland of Thirlstane, 
 connnonly called " Au'.d Maitland," one of the popular heroes in (Jawain r>cn!,'-las' 
 allen'orical Pnlive nf Iliuiiiin- (l.'j'):i), wherein he says : 
 
 "Tiiere saw I Maitland u]>nn auld beird yre\ ," 
 
 that is, "with his auld beird grey." In the Maitland MSS. there is a copy of 
 IV/xcx Aililrenneit to the Castle of Lethitiijtoii, belonging to Sir Richard Maitland, 
 the well-known poet and scholar of the sixteenth century — (.see page 22) — and 
 f.om these we gather that the renown of "Auld Sir Richard" was not merely 
 local, but, on the contrary, was considerably widespread : 
 
 " Wha does not know the Maitland bluid, 
 
 The best in a' the land ? 
 In whilk sometime the honour stood 
 
 And worship of Scotland. 
 Of auld Sir Richard of that name. 
 
 We ha\e heai<l sing and sa.v ; 
 Of his triumphant no)>le fame. 
 
 And of his auld beard grej' ; 
 And of his noble soiuiis three, 
 
 Whilk that time had no maik, 
 Whilk made Scotland renouned be 
 
 And all Kicjfland to (juake. 
 Whose loving praises, made truly 
 
 .\fter that simple time. 
 Are sung in mony a far countrie. 
 
 Albeit in rural rhyme." 
 
 I-i there not here, then, a probable allusion to the ballad of " Anid .Maitland " in in 
 primitive form, and upon which the present \ ersion has been based V The defence 
 of Thirlstane and the courageous escapade of .Maitland's three sons was surel.\ a 
 theme for the old minstrels. There is, therefore, nothing tmreasonable in sup- 
 posing that the earliest \ersion of this ballad was as old as the events narrated, 
 and that it was the " rural rhyme " referred to, through which the valour of 
 Maitland and his sons was chanted " in monv a far countrie."
 
 ^04 J//.V.?7A'AA9)' O/-- TUF. MrRSK. 
 
 When Scon piitilislieil " AiiUI Miiillaml,'" iio( a few suspected the ha'lad to he a 
 clever for-rei-y, and to rehut. this idea the Kttrick Shepherd told how a numherof the 
 very old inhahitants of the district knew the !,'reater part of it hy heart Ion;,' hefore 
 it was either written or printed. " Indeed," he says, "many are not aware of the 
 manners of this country; till tliis j)resent age the poor illiterate people in those 
 jrlens knew of no other enlertaimnent in the loii^' winter nights than repeating 
 and listening to the feats of their ancestors recorded in songs, whicli 1 helieve to 
 he handed down from father to son for many generations, although, no donht, 
 )iad a copy been taken at the end of every fifty years there nuist have been some 
 difference, occ:isioned by the gradual cliange of language. I helieve it is thus 
 that very many ancient songs have been gradually mo<lernised to the connnon 
 ear, while to the eonnoissenr they present marks of their genuine antiipiity." 
 Professor Aytoun a shrewd critic had difficulty in accepting the ballad as one 
 of ancient date. He states the matter very lucidly in his " Ballads of Scotland " 
 O'ol. I., page 1). tint admits that there are certain evidences which make him less 
 i-ontident in the opinion he expresses. Professor Child, of New York, and others, 
 adopt Aj toun's \ iew. 
 
 Thirlstane Castle, formerly called Lauder Fort, an edifice partly ancient and 
 partly uKHlern, beautifully surroimdcd by extensive woo<ls, occupies a picturescpie 
 po-ition on the right bank of the Leader, near the town of Lauder. According to 
 tndition it was originally erected by Kdward L during his in\asion of Scotland, 
 l>eing rebuilt by Chancellor Maitland, and subseciuently improved by the Duke of 
 Laudenlale. I 
 
 'I'liL'ic livcil ;i kini^ in southern land, 
 
 King I'dward liight his name : 
 rnwordily he wore the crown. 
 
 Till fifty years were gane. 
 
 1 le had a sister's son o"s ain. 
 
 Was large of hlood and bane : 
 And afterward, when he came vip, 
 
 N'oung Edward hight his name. 
 
 One day he came before the king, 
 And kneel'd low on his knee — 
 " .\ boon, a boon, my good uncle, 
 I crave to ask of thee I 
 
 " Al our lang wars, in fair Scfitlaiid, 
 I fain hae wished to be; 
 If fifteen hundred waled wight men 
 
 \ i.U 11 L'Kilil to ride W 1 Inc.
 
 The Ballads of Beku'icksihre. 305 
 
 *' 'riiDU sail liac iliac, ihoii sail Ikr- mac; 
 I say il sickeilie ; 
 And I myseli, an auUl gray man, 
 Array 'd your host sail see." — 
 
 King Edward rade, king Edward ran — 
 
 I wish him dool antl pyne I 
 Till he had fifteen hundred men 
 
 Assembled on the Tync. 
 
 And ihrice as many as IJerwicke 
 
 ^^'ere all for battle bound, 
 [Who, marching forth with false Dunbar, 
 
 A ready welcome found.] 
 
 They lighted on the banks of Tweed, 
 
 And blew their coals sae het, 
 And fired the Merse and Teviotdale, 
 
 All in an evening late. 
 
 As they fared up o'er Lammermoor, 
 
 They burn'd baith up and down, 
 Until they came to a darksome house, 
 
 Some call il Leader-Town. 
 
 " Wha bauds this house?" young Edward cry'd, 
 " Or wha gies't ower to me ? " — 
 A grey-hair'd knight set up his head, 
 And crakit richt crousely : 
 
 " Of Scotland's king I haud my house ; 
 He pays me meat and fee ; 
 And I will keep my guid auld house, 
 While my house will keep me." — 
 
 They laid their sowies to the wall 
 
 Wi' mony a heavy peal ; 
 liut he threw ower to them agen 
 
 Baith pitch and tar barrel. 
 U
 
 ^o6 MlXSTKELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 J 
 
 With springakls, stanes, and gads of aim, 
 
 Amang them fast he threw ; 
 Till niony of llie Englisliincii 
 
 ,\l)oul the wall he slew. 
 
 Full fifteen days that l)raid host lay, 
 
 Sieging Auld Maitland keen ; 
 S)ne tliey liae left him, hail and feir, 
 
 W'ilhin his strength of stane. 
 
 Then fifteen barks, all gaily good, 
 
 Met them upon a day, 
 Which they did lade with as nnieh sjioil 
 
 As tluy could hear away. 
 
 " England's our ain hj- heritage; 
 And what can us withstand, 
 Now wc hae conquer'd fair Scotland, 
 With buckler, bow, and brand?"" 
 
 Then they are on to the land o' France, 
 Where auld king Edward lay. 
 
 Burning baith castle, tower, and town, 
 That he met in his way. 
 
 Until he came unto that tow n, 
 Which some call Billop-Cirace; 
 
 There were Auld Mait land's sons, a' three, 
 Learning at school, alas ! 
 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " O sec ye what I see ? 
 Gin a' l)e trcw yon standard says. 
 
 We're fatherless a' three, 
 
 " For Scotland's conquer'd uj) and down ; 
 Landmen we'll never be ! 
 Now, will yf)U go, my brethren two. 
 And try some jeopardy?"
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 307 
 
 Then they hae saddled twa Ijlack horse, 
 
 Twa Ijlack horse and a gray ; 
 And ihcy are on to king Edward's host, 
 
 Before the dawn of clay. 
 
 When tliey arrived before the host, 
 They hover'd on the kiy — 
 " Will ihoii lend me our king's standard, 
 'l"o hear a liule way?" 
 
 " Where wast thou bred? where wast thou born? 
 
 Where, or in what countrie?" 
 " In North of England I was born : " 
 
 (It needed him to lee). 
 
 " A knight me gat, a lady bore, 
 I am a squire of high renowne ; 
 I well may bear't to any king, 
 -That ever yet wore crowne." — 
 
 " He ne'er came of an Englishman, 
 Had sic an ee or bree ; 
 But thou art the likest Auld Maitland 
 That ever I did see. 
 
 " But sic a gloom on ae browhead 
 Grant I ne'er see again ! 
 For mony of our men he slew. 
 And mony put to pain." — 
 
 When Maitland heard his father's name, 
 
 An angry man was he ! 
 Then, lifting up a gilt dagger. 
 
 Hung low down by his knee, 
 
 He stabb'd the knight the standard bore, 
 
 He stabb'd him cruellie ; 
 Then cavight the standard by the neuk. 
 
 And fast away rode he.
 
 3o8 J//.y s r A' JiLsy of the Mhkse. 
 
 " Now, is't na time, lnollicrs," ho cried, 
 " Now, is'l na time to tlee ? " — 
 
 " Ay, by my sooth I " lliey baiih leplieil, 
 " We'll bear you comi)an)e." — 
 
 The youngest turn'd him in a path. 
 And drew a Inirnish'd l)rand. 
 
 And fifteen of the foremost slew, 
 Till back the lave did stand. 
 
 He spurr'd the gray into the jiath — 
 Till bailh his sides they bled — 
 " Gray I thou maun carry me awa)-. 
 Or my life lies in wad 1 "— 
 
 Tiie captain lookit ower the wa' 
 
 About the lireak o' day ; 
 There he beheld the three .Scots lads 
 
 Pursued along the way. 
 
 " Pull up portcullize ! down'dravvlirigg ! 
 My nephews are at hand ; 
 And they sail lodge wi' ine to-night, 
 In spite of all England." — 
 
 Whene'er they came within tile yate, 
 They thrust their horse them frae, 
 
 And took three lang spears in their hands, 
 .Saying, " Here sail come nae mae 
 
 I 
 
 And they shot out, and they shot in. 
 
 Till it was f.irly day; 
 When mony of the Englishmen 
 
 About the draw-brigg lay. 
 
 Then they hae yoked carts and wains, 
 
 T(j ca' their dead away. 
 And sh(jl auld dykes abuiie the lave. 
 
 In gutters where they lay.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 309 
 
 The king, al his jiavilion duor, 
 Was heard aloud to say, 
 " Last night, three o' the lads o' 1"' ranee 
 My standard stole away. 
 
 " \\'i" a fause tale, disguised, they came, 
 And wi' a fauser trayne ; 
 And to regain my gaye standard. 
 These men were a' down slayne." — 
 
 " It ill befits," the youngest said, 
 " A crowned king to lee ; 
 But, or that I taste meat and drink, 
 l\.eprove<l sail he l)e." 
 
 He went before king Edward straight. 
 And kneeld low on his knee; 
 " I wad hae leave, my lord," he said, 
 " To speak a word wi' thee." 
 
 The king he lurn'd him round about. 
 
 And wistna what to say — 
 Quo' he, " Man, thou's hae leave to speak. 
 
 Though thou should speak a' day." 
 
 " Ve said tiiat tliree young lads o' France 
 Your standard stole away, 
 Wi' a fause tale, and fauser trayne, 
 And mony men did slay ; — 
 
 " But we are nane the lads o" France, 
 Nor e"er jiretend to be : 
 We are three lads o' fair Scotland, 
 Auld Maitland's sons are we ; 
 
 " Nor is there men, in a' ynur host, 
 
 Daur fight us three to three." 
 " Now, by my sooth," young Edward said, 
 
 " Weel filled ve sail Ik- !
 
 3IO MiXSTRELSY OF 7 HE MeRSE. 
 
 " Piercy sail with the eldest fight, 
 And Ktheil Lunn \vi' thee: 
 William of Lancaster the third, 
 And bring your fcnntli to me I" 
 
 " Remember, I'iercy, aft the Scot 
 Has cower'd beneath thy hand ; 
 For every drap of Maitland blood, 
 I'll gie a rig of land.'' — 
 
 He clanked Piercy ower the head, 
 
 A deep wound and a sair. 
 Till the best blood o' his bodie 
 
 Came rinning down his hair. 
 
 " Now% I've slayne anc ; slay ye the twa ; 
 And that's gudc companye ; 
 And if the twa suld slay ye baith, 
 Ve'se get na hcl]) frae me." 
 
 But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear, 
 
 I lad many battles seen ; 
 I le set the youngest wonder sair, 
 
 Till the eldest he grew keen— 
 
 " I am nae king, nor nae sic tiling ; 
 My word it slianna stand I 
 For Ethert sail a buffet bide. 
 Come he lieneath my brand." 
 
 lie clankit Ethert ower the head, 
 
 A deeji woun<l and a sair, 
 Till the best blood of his bodie 
 
 Came rinning ower his hair. 
 
 •' Now, I've slayne twa ; slay ye the ane ; 
 Isna that gude companye ? 
 And tho' the anc suld slaye ye baith, 
 Ve'se get nae help o' me.''
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 311 
 
 The twa-somc they hae slayne the ane ; 
 
 They maul'd him cruellie ; 
 Then hung them over the (Iraw-l)rigg, 
 
 Tliat all the host might see. 
 
 They rade their horse, they ran their horse, 
 Then hover'd on the lee : 
 " We be three lads o' fair Scotland, 
 TJiat fain would fighting see." 
 
 This boasting, when ycumg Edward heard, 
 An angry man was he ! 
 " I'll tak yon lad, I'll bind yon lad. 
 And bring him bound to thee !" — 
 
 *' Now, God forbid," king Edward said, 
 " That ever thou suld try ! 
 Three worthy leaders we hae lost, 
 And thou the fourth wad lie. 
 
 " If thou shouldst hang on yon draw-brigg, 
 Blythe wad I never be ? " 
 But, wi' the poll-axe in his hend, 
 Upon the brigg sprang he. 
 
 The llrst stroke thai young Edward gae. 
 
 He struck wi' might and mayn : 
 He clove the Maitland's helmet stout ; 
 
 And bit right nigh the brain. 
 
 When jNIaitland saw his ain Idood fa'. 
 
 An angry man was he ! 
 1 le let his weapon frae him fa', 
 
 And at his throat did flee. 
 
 And thrice about he did him swing, 
 
 Till on the ground he light. 
 Where he has halden young Edward, 
 
 Tho' he was great in might.
 
 jMixsrKJU.SY (>/■■ THE Merse. 
 
 " Ni)\\ let him up,'' \-inv; IMwaiil ciictl, 
 " Ami kt liiin cimic to nic ? 
 And for llie deed that thou hast done, 
 Thou shall hae crldomes three ! " — 
 
 " It's ne'er he said in France, nor e'er 
 In Scotland, when I'm hame, 
 That Edward once lay under me, 
 And e'er gat u)i again ! " 
 
 He jiierced him through and througli the lieart, 
 
 I le maul'd him cruellie ; 
 'I'iien hung him owcr ihe draw-hrigg, 
 
 Beside the other three. 
 
 " Xow lake frae me that feather-betl, 
 Make me a bed o' slrae ! 
 I wish I hadna lived this day, 
 To niak ni}' lieart sae wae. 
 
 " If I were ance at London Tower, 
 ^\'here I was wont to be, 
 I never niair suld gang frae hamc. 
 Till borne on a bier-tree."
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 313 
 
 LEADER HAUGIIS AND YARROW. 
 
 " O Loader lianylis are wide and liraid. 
 And Yarrow braes are boiinie."— O/i/ Hnixj. 
 
 [There is something very sweet in the a})0\ e sonj;- ; there is a fine old niral and 
 pastoral air about it, and it is redolent of Nature in her finer aspects. Dr. Itobert 
 Chambers says "it is littlebettcr than a strin<f of names of places." On this point 
 we differ from him entirely ; we think it breathes the very essence of poetry, 
 awakenin- sentiments and feelinffs that are truly poetical, carrying us hack to a 
 niore simple and patriarchal age than the present, and calling up the scenes and 
 pictures of Arcadia. Whatever of this kind that awakens feeliu'^s and asjiirations 
 for a more simi>le and innocent life is poetical. This flowery " string of names of 
 places" is very pleasing to the men of the Border— to the "men of the South 
 Countrie." We all know what impressive verse Milton makes out of mere cata- 
 logues of localities. We are charmed with the chanting verses which embalm, as 
 it were, the names of our cotintry places, and we love to hear them fre(|uently 
 awaken the echoes. 
 
 The author of Lmdar llauglta ami IVn/vut; was Minstrel Burne,' presumed to 
 have been a native of St. Leonard's, near Lauder, but nothing is known of him 
 except the name. He is supposed to be one of the last of the old race of minstrels * 
 who wandered about the country for the entertainment of the gentry. "In an 
 old collection of songs," says Chambers, " in their original state of baUants, I have 
 seen his name printed as ' Burne the Violer,' which seems to indicate the instru- 
 ment upon tthich he was in the practice of accompanying his recitations. 1 was 
 told by an aged person at Earlston that there used to be a portrait in Thirlstane 
 Castle representing him as a douce old man leading a cow by a straw rope." 
 Thirlstane Castle, the seat of the Earl of Lauderdale, is the castle of which the 
 poet speaks in such terms of admiration. The Blainslie oats long held their 
 repute in the county, and we have a proverb which is frequently used when 
 speaking of those who inherit the attributes or propensities of their parents— 
 " They have it by kind, like the Blainslie aits." The Leader Ilaughs possess much 
 natural beauty, but are of course not so wild as in the days of Burne ; they have 
 been ornamented and cultivated in a high degree, and like most other places in 
 Scotland, have been greatly changed by the hand of the modern improver. Still 
 it is classic ground, and the lover of Border song will always delight to wander on 
 the Haughs of Leader Water. We only once saw the Leader shimmering in the 
 light of a harvest morning, and we thought there was something peculiarly 
 enchanting in that stream, flowing past the ancient tower of Ercildoune where 
 Thomas the Rhymer had his abode, when all the land was " full of fairy," and in 
 our imagination it flows, and will still flow, till we lie down to rest "at life's brae- 
 fit," one of the sweetest of earthly streams.— /Jr. IleMerson'g MS. Xoteg.] 
 
 1 >Iiiisti-cI Hurne lias been coiifoini<lcil with yicol Biinie, ,a Rom.in Catholic priest of the sixteciitli 
 century, author of "The nisjiutatiou Concci-uing- the Coiitrovei-tit ITca.is of lieli;;ion in the Healm of 
 Scotlan.r' iTaris, I.iSl), and of a scun-ilous poem, entitl.i.l A iie AdmoniHou to the Aiiti-ChrisCiaa 
 MiiiiHcrt in thv nrformit Kirk n/ .'irotldnd (l.»). nuinc has been a rommon Iteiwii ksliiie name. 
 In the Tax-fioll .if Dryburgli Abbey meiiti.ni la ma.le of <• Ihirne in Krsiltoun," an.l of others of the 
 same n:inu'. 
 
 2 Chambers ascribes to Ilurnc another balla I after tlie style of /.cad,)- Ilniiahx uml rufrov. 
 enti:Ieii Omnia Vim-il A mor. This he has printe.l in liis "Songs of .Scotland IVior to liunis." page 29J.
 
 114 MlNSTREISV OF THE MrRSE. 
 
 When I'liu'lius hiight llic a/ure skies 
 
 Willi golden rays enlighrnclli, 
 lie makes all Nature's heauties vise, 
 
 Herbs, trees, and Howers he (luick'nelh : 
 Among all those he makes his choice, 
 
 And with delight goes thorow, 
 With radiant locams, the silver streams 
 
 Of Leader 1 laughs and \'arro\v. 
 
 When Aries tlie <lay and night 
 
 In etiual length divideth, 
 And frosty Saturn takes his flight, 
 
 Nae langer he abideth ; 
 Then Flora (jueen, with mantle green. 
 
 Casts aff her former sorrow, 
 And vows to dwell with Ceres' sel. 
 
 In Leader I laughs and ^'arrllw. 
 
 I'aii, ])la}ing on his ailen-reed, 
 
 And shei)herds him attending, 
 Do here resort, their flock to feed, 
 
 The hills and haughs commending ; 
 With cur and kenl, upon the bent, 
 
 Sing to the sun, (Jood-morrow, 
 .■\nd swear nae fields mair i)lcasure yields, 
 
 Than I-cader I laughs and ^'arrow. 
 
 A house there stands on Leader-side, 
 
 Surmounting my descriving, 
 With rooms sac rare, and windows fair, 
 
 Like Daedalus' c<jntriving: 
 Men passing by do aften cry, 
 
 In sooth it hath no marrow; 
 It stands as fair on Leader-side 
 
 As Newark does on N'arrow. 
 
 A mile below, wlio lists to ride. 
 Will hear tlie mavis singing; 
 
 Into St Leonard's banks she bides, 
 Sweet birks her head owerhinging.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 315 
 
 The lint-white Imid, and Piogne proud, 
 
 Willi tuneful lluouls and narrow, 
 Into St Leonard's hanks they sing 
 
 As sweetly as in Yarrow. 
 
 The lapwint; lilteth ower the lea, 
 
 With nimble wing she sporteth ; 
 But vows sheMI flee far from the tree 
 
 Where Philomel resorteth: 
 15y break of day the lark can say 
 
 I'll bid you a good-morrow; 
 I'll stretch my wing, and, mounting, sing 
 
 O'er Leader Ilaughs and \'arrow. 
 
 Park, Wanlon-wa's, and \\'c)oden-cleuch, 
 
 The East and Wester Mainses, 
 The wood of Lauder's fair cneuch, 
 
 The corns are good in the Blainslies ; 
 There aits are fine, and said by kind, 
 
 That if ye search all thdmugh 
 Mearns, Buchan, Marr, nane better are 
 
 Than Leader Ilaughs and Yarrow. 
 
 In Boon-mill -bog and Whilslaid Shaws, 
 
 The fearful hare she haunteth ; 
 Brig-haugh and Braidwoodshiel she knaws. 
 
 And Chapel-wood frequenteth : 
 Yet, when she irks, to Kaidslie Birks, 
 
 She rins, and sighs for sorrow, 
 That she should leave sweet Leader Ilaughs, 
 
 And canniit win to Yarrow. 
 
 What sweeter music wad ye hear 
 
 Than hounds and beagles crying ? 
 The started hare rins hard with fear. 
 
 Upon her speed relying : 
 ]?ut yet her strength it fails at length ; 
 
 Nae bielding can she borrow, 
 In Sorrowless-lield, Clackmae, or Hags ; 
 
 And sighs to be in Yarrow.
 
 3l6 MlXSTRELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 l"or Rocksvood, Kingwood, Spolty, Shag, 
 
 With sight and scent pursue her ; 
 Till, all, her pilli l)cgiiis to flag; 
 
 Nae cunning can rescue her: 
 Ower du') and d)ke, ower sheucli and syke, 
 
 .She'll rin the fields all thorough, 
 Till, fail'd, she fa's in Leader Haughs, 
 
 And bids fareweel to Yarrow. 
 
 •Sing Erslington and Cowdenknowes, 
 
 Where Humes had ancc commanding; 
 And Drygrange, with the milk-white yowcs, 
 
 'Twixt Tweed and Leader standing: 
 The bird that flees through Rc(l])ath trees 
 
 An<l (jladswood banks ilk morrow. 
 May chant and sing sweet Leatler Haughs 
 
 And bonnie ho«ms of Yarrow. 
 
 But Minstrel Burnc can not assuage 
 
 His grief, while life endureth, 
 To see the changes of this age, 
 
 Which fleeting time procureth : 
 For niuny a place stands in hard case, 
 
 NN'here blythe folk ken'd nae sorrow, 
 With Humes that dwelt on Leader-side, 
 
 And Scotts that dwelt on \'arrow. 
 
 The following are the three additional verses as given in the Rox- 
 burghe Collection : — 
 
 TiiK Words ok Burne iiiE Yioi.er. 
 
 What, shall my viol silent be. 
 
 Or leave her wonted scriding ? 
 But chofjse some sadder clcgie. 
 
 Not sports and mirds deriding. 
 It must be fain with lower strain, 
 
 Than it was wont before, O, 
 To sound the praise of I^eader Haughs 
 
 .And the bonnie banks of N'arrow.
 
 The Ballads of Bekuickshire. 
 
 But floods have overflown tlie banks, 
 
 The greenish haughs disgracing, 
 And trees in woods grow tiiin in ranks, 
 
 About the liclds defacing. 
 For waters wax, and woods do wane ; 
 
 More, if I could for sorrow, 
 In rural verse I could rehearse 
 
 Of Leader Haughs and \'arr(>w. 
 
 But sighs and sobs o'erset my breath. 
 
 Sore saltish tears forth sending. 
 All things suljlunar here on earth 
 
 Are subject to an ending 
 So must my song, though somewhat long. 
 
 Yet late at even and morrow, 
 I'll sigh and sing sweet Leader Haughs, 
 
 ^\nd the bonnie Ijanks of Yarrow. 
 
 THE GREY PEEL GLEN. 
 
 (.1 hithertn niipiibliiiltcd Border Ballad.) 
 
 [This old b.illad, now imblished for the first time, is supposed to he founded on 
 an incident of the year 1612. In Pitcairn's "Criminal Trials" it is set forth 
 somewhat as follows : The laird of Boon had a dauj;hter who had two suitors 
 for her hand, namely, the tutor of Thorniedyke (in Westruther parish), Hay by 
 name, and Gilbert Cranstoun of Corohie Tower. One of these suitors was 
 returnini^ from visiting her at lier fatlier's castle at Boon when he met his rival 
 crossing Boon hill on a like errand. They had a (juarrel about the fair damsel, 
 ending in a duel in which Hay, aided by his servant, soon overcame Crinstoun, 
 and killed him. The murderers were tried at Edinburgh, were sentenced to 
 de^th, and tlieir bodies hung for a time on chains on the Castle Hill. The peoi)le 
 of the district in which llie crime was committed, to maik their abhorent-c of the 
 deed, erected an old stone cross on the spot. This relic stands below Old Boon, 
 in a plantation about a hundred yards above the public road leading to the farm 
 of Dods. Ic is locally known as the Laird's (.irave and the Dods Crosj Stane. 
 Old inhabitants of the district also remember their fathers telling them that at 
 certain times the neighbouting farmers and others used to meet at this cross to 
 exchange their lint seed, etc., which gathering wa3 called the Pirn Fair. Not a 
 vestige of the Castle of Boon now remains, Vnit it is supposed to have stood 
 somewhere to the west of " Dods Rauchan." The Grey Peel of the ballad is an 
 old tower near Jedburgh. The Merlindcan is a dean or cleuch in the same
 
 3lS MiXSTKELSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 district. The Cranstouns of Corsbie Tower (which still exists) were a branch of 
 the Cranstouns of Crailinjr. Corsbie Tower, which was formerly surrounded b^' 
 a loch, lias been supiiosed to be the scene of Scott's " Lady of Avenel." It is only 
 proper to aiknowledge an indebtedness to Mr. Walter Lockie, schoolmaster, 
 Galeside, Spottiswood, for rescuing- this old ballad from the obscurity which 
 seems to have surrounded it for many years.] 
 
 Aukl Wat o' the Grey Peel's dochter May, 
 Perfection's maiden in form and mien; 
 
 Wi' face as bricht as a simmer day, 
 
 r the Grey Peel (jlen nae mair is seen. 
 
 There's naething but grief within the wa's, 
 Thereout there's dool 'mong women and men ; 
 
 An ruefu's the strain o' the wind that blaws 
 
 Through the .shiverin' leaves i' the Grey Peel f "den. 
 
 Wi' frolicksome step i' the morning bright 
 She l)rent her way to the Merlindean ; 
 
 Where voices wail i' the darksome night, 
 Or wildly laugh i' the moonlight .sheen. 
 
 But the eerie glen i' the light o' day 
 
 Revealed but charms to her laughin' een ; 
 
 An' the sunbright morn that wiled her away 
 Brought a dreary night, for nae mair she's seen. 
 
 Right ready o' help frae the Smailcleuch fit, 
 Stern Ringan has flown to the sad Grey Peel ; 
 
 Unpeered he stands i' the forest yet 
 For a trusty hand and a bitin' steel. 
 
 An' gallopin' up comes Ruecastle Hew, 
 
 On his Ruecastle naig o' the guid steel grey. 
 
 An' Fernihirst grim, but ever heart true, 
 Whase ready Kerr hand redds mony a fray. 
 
 An' Rumpel Dowfort, the ae-lugget loon, 
 An' lang-armed Tarn o' the Waterside Toor; 
 
 An' nnicklc Wull Flliot o' Jetharl toon, 
 Wi' staff aye ready for ony sloor.
 
 The Ballads oi- Berwickshire. 319 
 
 Baith east and wast they muster and lin, 
 
 AVi' eager speed the fair May to trace ; 
 But the sad days close as they begin, 
 
 And auld Wat manes for her bonnie face. 
 
 Six heart-fearin', heart-wearin' weeks are away, 
 
 In forest and open a' searcli is vain, 
 And hope seems dead for the lang-lost May, 
 
 Its mystery a' ower hill and plain. 
 
 But, hark, what news is this by the way, 
 
 Whilk auld and young gaurs loiip i' their shoon ; 
 
 That May was seen i' the gloamin' grey, 
 
 On the toor o' the treacherous laird o' Boon. 
 
 And Gilbert o' Corsbie, ready and sure, 
 
 Up faced wild Boon \vi' an angry ee. 
 An' vowed he wad clear hih lady's hour. 
 
 Or he or himself wad surely dee. 
 
 Now Boon for man had never a fear, 
 
 Had sinew an' heart o' granite stane ; 
 But his flashin' swurde an' his fiendish leer 
 
 On dauntless Gibbie effect had nane. 
 
 On Boon hill back they take their stand, 
 
 An' draw their brands o' the Spanish steel ; 
 Then fit to fit an' hand to hand. 
 
 They thrust an' parry syne slash and reel. 
 
 But Gibbie has pricket the laird o' Boon, 
 
 An' rage-blind now that sic should be, 
 He springs on Gilibie, but that niml)le loon. 
 
 Strikes life wi' death frae his fause body. 
 
 They bury him speedily where he fa's, 
 
 An' rush frae the fatal spot away, 
 To search the boles o' the auld toor wa's, 
 
 Wi' beatin' hearts for the langdost May.
 
 M/XSTKELSV OF THE AIkRSE. 
 
 She's found i' the l)i)iir piolccUil riglu wccl 
 Hy Boon's auld tiltie — Black Marjorie; 
 
 Bill soon tlicy lii;bt doon at llic blylhe Cirey I'eel, 
 Where auld Wat laughs and greets wi' glee. 
 
 Frae east to wast to the (Irey Beel gay, 
 Gude s])rinklings o' hlyths company ride, 
 
 To pleasure auld Wat an' his winsome May, 
 Now gallant young Gilbert o' Corslne's bride. 
 
 There's naething but niirili within tlic wa's. 
 Thereout there's joy 'luong women and men, 
 
 An" sweet is the strain o' the wind that lilavvs 
 
 Through tlie whis|)erin' leaves i' the Grey Peel Glen. 
 
 THE BALLAD OK Till'. TWIXLAW CAIRNS. 
 
 [The Twinlaw Cairns are situaleil on Tuinlaw Hill, on the fuini of Flass, belong- 
 ing to the extensive domain of 8|iotli»\voo<I. Twinlaw Hill is IKIG feet ahove sea 
 level, and commands one of the most nia^iiiticent views in the Ilorder country. 
 In the north-west you see far into the fertile Lothians, while to the south and 
 south-\v "St the whole jianorama of the Merse lies at one's feet with its wealth of 
 wood and cultivated Und, stretching away out to the lon^' wavy line of " Cheviot's 
 mountains lone." The Cairns are two in number, some ten feet h'gh, anil stand 
 alwut seventy yards aj)art. ( 'ircles of loose stones lie round the base of each Cairn. 
 There arc- winding steps leading to the top from the outside, and a recess with a 
 seit fronting southwards. It is to Lady John Scott— perhaps the most zealous 
 la/ly antiijuary in Scotlind - that we owe the careful ])reservation of these ancient 
 monuments. .Some years ago, when the stones were showing tigns of crumbling, 
 she I'ad the Cairns thoroughly repaired, and evcri' opportunity is now afTonled 
 to strangers for vLsiting this interesting locality .so full of history and tradition, 
 and so richly dowered with Nature's own wealth. The ballad tells its own tile. 
 There is but to add the further tradition of the two armies standing in line from 
 the Watch water at tlie foot of the hill to the top of Twinlaw handing on stones to 
 one another as they gathered them from the streandet, and by this means forming 
 the rude and simple memorial. The legend of the Twinlaw Cairns is common to 
 many parts of the county - indeed to many parts of Scotland. Near the handet 
 of Oateside, which is r-lose by, is a fielii bearing the name Brothcrfield, in which 
 formerly stood a large cairn known as lirotherlield Cairn. The same tradition 
 was told of it as of the Twinlaws, and in the j)arish of Mertoun, to the south of 
 the county, on the to)) of IJrotherstone Hill are two tall whinstone slabs concern- 
 ing which alto there is a story similar in most respects to the present ballad,
 
 The Ballads of Bekh-ick.sj/ike. 321 
 
 The whole of this region around Twinlaw and Spottiswood is one of deep 
 romance. The supernatural has a firm hold of the native inia^fination. It is a 
 fair}-- haunted land, and old inhahitaiits will tell you how, on pleasant sunnner 
 evenings, just when gloaming begins to shade tlie scene, the little green-clad 
 elves are all astir, and chorusing their favourite " Fairy rhyme :'' 
 
 " In the parks o' IJljthe we mowed our corn. 
 We thrashed it up in Bruntyburn ; 
 We grund our meal at Clacharie Mill ; 
 We carried our meal uj) to I'oon Hill ; 
 We bakit our bread in the Fairy Glen, 
 An' we eatit it up in the jolly l>od Kauohan."] 
 
 In days of yore, when deeds were rife, 
 And wars on l)anks and hracs, 
 
 And noiit^ht hut strife on every side, 
 \\ hich brought on dule and waes. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxon's restless band. 
 Had crossed the river Tweed ; 
 
 Up for the hills of Lanimermoor 
 Their hosts march'd on with speed. 
 
 Our Scottish warriurs on tlie liealh 
 
 In close battalion stood ; 
 Resolved to set their country free. 
 
 Or shed their dearest blood. 
 
 A chieftain from the Saxon band. 
 
 Exulting in his might, 
 Defied the bravest of the Scots 
 
 To come to single fight. 
 
 Old Edgar had a youthful son 
 Who led the Scottish band, 
 
 Who bravely met the Saxon's challenge 
 To fight it hand to hand. 
 
 The armies stood in deep suspense 
 
 The combat for to view ; 
 While aged Edgar stepped forth 
 
 To bid his son adieu. 
 X
 
 
 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 " Adieu ! adieu ! my darling son, 
 I fear that ye l)e lost, 
 For yesternight my troubled mind 
 Willi fearful <lrcams wns tossed. 
 
 " I (.Ireamed ynur mother's jiarted shade 
 Between two armies stood ; 
 A lovely youth on every hand, 
 ^Yith bosom streaming Ijlood. 
 
 " My heart will break if you shfiuld fall, 
 .My only prop and stay ; 
 Vfuir brother when in infant years 
 The Saxons bore away." 
 
 " Delay it not," young Edgar said, 
 " But let the trumpets blow; 
 Vou soon shall see me prove your son, 
 And lay yon boaster low." 
 
 The trumpets raised with deafening clang. 
 
 The fearful onset blew ; 
 And then the chieftains stcjiped forth ; 
 
 Their shining swords they drew. 
 
 Like lions in a furious fight. 
 Their steeled faulchions gleam; 
 
 Till from our Scottish warrior's side 
 Fast flowed a crimson stream. 
 
 With deafening din on the coats of mail 
 
 The deadly blows resound ; 
 At last the Saxon warrior 
 
 Did breathless press the ground. 
 
 An aged Saxon came to view 
 
 The body of his chief; 
 His streaming eyes, and downcast looks, 
 
 Bespoke a heart of grief.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 323 
 
 " He's dead," he cried, " the luavesl )(mtli, 
 l'',re sjtrang frinn l*',dgar's line; 
 I bore liini from the Scottish coasts, 
 And made him pass for mine. 
 
 " And in the days of youthful prime, 
 lie was my pride and boast; 
 For oft to bravery he has 
 Led on the Saxon host." 
 
 Old Kdt,'ar heard the Saxon's moan, 
 
 His cheeks grew deadly pale; 
 A great convulsion shook his frame, 
 
 His strength Ijegan to fail. 
 
 Frantic he lore his aged locks, 
 
 With time anil trouble grey ; 
 And (;\intly crying, " My son ! my son 1" 
 
 His spirit fled away. 
 
 The Scottish chief, as his father fell, 
 
 He raised his fading eye ; 
 And tore the bandage off his wounds, 
 
 To let life's stream run dry. 
 
 He kissed his sire, and his lirother's wounds, 
 
 Which ghastly were and deep ; 
 And closed him in his folding arms, 
 
 And fell i^\\ his long, long sleep.
 
 3-4 AI/xsruELS}' o/- the Merse. 
 
 I'OLWARTII ON THE GRKKX. 
 Ai.i.AN Kamsav [16861758]. 
 
 [The first (our and the last four lines of this son? are old, the rest are l)y 
 liaiusay. C'hanihers is \vron>^ in ascrihin? the song to Captain MaoGregor of 
 Balhadies, and Burns also was misinformed on this point. There was a \ery old 
 song of " Polwarth on the Green," which is now lost. Poluarth was made a 
 laronial hurgh in lr)S7. Two old thorn trees formerly stood in the centre of the 
 village green and the hridid jiarty at every marriage in the viUage for ujiwards of 
 three centuries, till about the beginning of the present century, danced round 
 them. The " I'oUvart thorne " is referred to in the Fliithvj of Montgomery and 
 Polwarth. The air of J'uliraiih <ni the Green is inscribed in Mrs. Crocket's hook, 
 written in 1709, and in Craig's "Old Scottish Airs" in 1730. (iay selected this 
 tune for one of his songs in the opera of Pulhi, begimiing " Love now is nought 
 but ait," 17-il>.J 
 
 At Polwarth on the Green 
 
 If you'll meet me tlie morn, 
 Where lads and la.ssies do convene 
 
 To (lance around the thorn ; 
 A kinilly welcome you .shall meet 
 
 }• lae her, wha likes to view 
 A lover and a lad complete — 
 The lad and lover you. 
 
 Let dorly ' dame.s .say Na, 
 
 As lang as e'er they ])lease, 
 Seem caulder than the snaw, 
 
 While inwardly they hlee/e; 
 But I will frankly show my mind, 
 
 And yield my heart to ihee — 
 lie ever to the cajjtive kind, 
 
 That langs na to be free. 
 
 At I'olwarth on the (ireen 
 
 Among the nesv-mown hay, 
 With sang and dancing keen 
 
 We'll pass the live-lang day. 
 .\t nicht, if heds be ower thrang laid, 
 
 And thou be twined of thine, 
 Thou shall be welcome, my dear lad. 
 
 To lake a part of mine. 
 
 ' Saucy.
 
 The Ballads of BKRWicKsiiit.i:. 325 
 
 POLWARTIl ON Till". GKKEX. 
 John (Ikif.nk.' 
 
 'Twas summer tiile; the cushat sang 
 
 His am'rous roundelay; 
 And dew, like cluster'd diamonds, hang 
 
 On flower and leafy sjiray. 
 The coverlet of gloaming grey 
 
 On every thing was seen, 
 When lads and lassies took their way 
 
 To I'olwarlh on the Green. 
 
 The s|iirit-moving dance went on. 
 
 And harndess revelry 
 Of young hearts all in unison 
 
 W'i" love's soft wilcherie; 
 Their hall the open-daised lea, 
 
 NVhile frae the welkin sheen, 
 The moon shone brightly on the glee 
 
 At Polwarlh on the Oreen. 
 
 Dark een and raven curls were there, 
 
 And cheeks of rosy hue, 
 And finer f(,)rn), without compare, 
 
 Than pencil ever drew; 
 But ane, wi' een o" bonnie blue, 
 
 A' hearts confess'd the queen, 
 And pride of grace and beauty too, 
 
 At I'olwarth on the Oreen. 
 
 The miser hoards his golden store. 
 
 And kings dominion gain ; 
 While others in the battle's roar 
 
 For honour's trifles strain. 
 Away, such pleasures I false and vain ; 
 
 For dearer mine have been. 
 Among the lowly rural train. 
 
 At Polwarth on the Green. 
 
 ' John Grieve, born in 1781, was a hat manufacturer in Krlintmrijli, of literary 
 tastes, and one of the Ktlrick Shepherd's curliest friends and patrons. Iloir^ 
 dedicated Madm- >;/' the Mimr to him and introduced him as one of the Minstrels 
 in the Qiieen'n M'aki: He died in 1836. long after retirin<j from Ijusiness. He 
 was the author of a laryre muiiber of poetical compositions.
 
 3-6 MixsTREi.sy of the Merse. 
 
 TIliBV FOWLKR. 
 
 [We claim "Tilil).v KouUt" as a r.oi-\vicksliii-e som;^'. By const aiiL tradition its 
 lofiilitv has been fixed in a %\v\\ lu-ir Kdrin^toii Castlu on tlic \Vliitad<lt'i-. Allan 
 Kamsay, lading a west coniUvy man, wished no douht to make it ajipear as a 
 pro<liU'tion of his native soil, and aooordingly, in the Tea-Table Mixcellnay, he 
 localised it hy the introduction of " Tintock Tap," which we here alter to its 
 jvohahly ori-^'inal " Cheviot." The sony: is old, and was well known in the early 
 part of last contmy. Tlierc is a tradition in Lcith that Tiliby Kowler was a real 
 personage, and married sometime durini,' the seventeenth century to tlie repre- 
 sentative of the attainted family of Lo.^'an of Kestalrij,'. A marria;^e contract 
 between Lojtan and Is()l)el Fowler is still extant. — Campbell's " History of 
 Leiih, ■ note, p. 314.] 
 
 Tibl)y Fowler o' tlie Glen, 
 
 There's owcr nmiiy wooing al her ; 
 Tibby Fowler o' the Glen, 
 
 There's ower mony wnoiiit; al her. 
 Wooin' at her, pu'in' al her, 
 
 Courlin' her, and canna gel her ; 
 Fillliy elf, it's for her pelf 
 
 That a" the lads are wooin' at her. 
 
 Ten cam east, and ten cam west ; 
 
 Ten cam rowin' ower the water ; 
 Twa cam down the lang dyke-side : 
 
 There's Iwa-and-thirty wooing al her. 
 
 There's seven but, and seven ben, 
 
 .Seven in the [lantry wi' her ; 
 Twenty head about the door : 
 
 There's ane and-forty wooin' al her ! 
 
 She's got pendles in her lugs ; 
 
 Cockle shells wad set lier heller! 
 lligh-heel'd shooii, and siller lags ; 
 
 And a' the lads are wooin' at her. 
 
 lie a lassie e'er sae black, 
 
 Gin .she hac the name o' siller. 
 Set licr ii]i(jn Cheviot ta]i. 
 
 The wind will blaw a man till her. 
 
 Be a lassie ecr .sae fair. 
 
 An' she want the penny siller, 
 A. flee may fell her in the air, 
 
 Before a man be even'd till her.
 
 The Ballads of Berwickshire. 327 
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 
 
 " Oh I loDif sluill Scotland sound with Rhymer's name."— Kinlay's H'rttocc. 
 
 [The openinj? pages of this volume treat of Thomas the Ehymer, the prophet- 
 bard of Eroildoune. In Scott's "Border Minstrelsy" there are three ballads 
 concerning this mysterious personage, one of which purports to be of great 
 antiquity, while tlie others are merely modern iiiiilalions. The first is gisen 
 from a copy obtained from a lady residing not far from Karlston, correcte<l and 
 enlarged \iy one in Airs. Brown's JISS. The second is made up by Scott himself 
 from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer, and the third — 
 entirely modern— is founded on the popular tradition of his returning with the 
 hart and hind to dree his «eird in the realm of Facrj-. For our present purpose 
 the last of these is selected— the portion descriptive of Thomas's disappearance ] 
 
 The feast was spread in Ercikloune, 
 
 In Learmont's high and ancient hall ; 
 And there were knights of great renown, 
 
 And ladies, laced in pall. 
 
 No lacked they, while they sat at dine, 
 
 The music nor the tale, 
 Nor goblets of the blood-red wine. 
 
 Nor mantling quaighs ^ of ale. 
 
 True Thomas rose, with harp in hand, 
 
 When as the feast was done : 
 (In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land, 
 
 The elfin harp he won), 
 
 Ilush'd were the throng, both limb and tongue, 
 
 And harpers for envy pale ; 
 And armed lords lean'd on their swords. 
 
 And hearken'd to the tale. 
 
 In numbers high, the witching tale 
 
 The prophet pour'd along; 
 No after bard might e'er avail 
 
 Those numbers to prolong. 
 
 Vet fragments of the h)fty strain 
 
 Float down the tide of years. 
 As, buoyant on the stormy main, 
 
 A parted wreck appears. 
 
 ' Wooden cups, composed of staves hooped together.
 
 o 
 
 28 Mjx.sjkelsv of the Merse. 
 
 He sung king Arlhur's Tal)le Round : 
 
 The Warrior of the Lake ; 
 How courteous (Jawaine met tlie wound, 
 
 And bletl for ladies' sake. 
 
 But chief, in gentle Tristrem's praise. 
 The notes melodious swell ; 
 
 Was none excell'd in Arthur's days, 
 The knight of Lionelle. 
 
 There paus'd the harp: its lingering sound 
 
 Died slowly on tlie ear ; 
 The silent guests still licnt around, 
 
 I'or still they seeni'd to hear. 
 
 Then woc broke forth in murmurs weak; 
 
 Nor ladies heaved ah me the sigh ; 
 I'ut, half ashamed, the rugged cheek 
 
 Did many a gauntlet dry. 
 
 On Leader's stream, and Learmont"s lower, 
 
 The mists of evening close ; 
 In camp, in castle, or in bower, 
 
 Kach warrior sought repose. 
 
 Lord Douglas, in his lofty lent, 
 
 Dream'd o'er the woeful tale : 
 When f<xjtsteps light, across the bent. 
 
 The warrior's ear assail. 
 
 He starts, he wakes—" What, Richard, ho ! 
 
 Arise, my page, arise ! 
 What venturous wight, at dead of night, 
 
 Dare step wliere Douglas lies ! " — 
 
 Then forlli they rush'd: by Leader's title, 
 
 A selcouth ' sight ihey see — 
 A hart and hind jiace side by side, 
 
 As white as snow on Fairnalie." 
 
 Wonilrouy. - All ancient seat u)io;i llie T» eid, in Silkirli.-iliire.
 
 The Ballads of Berhick.miire. 329 
 
 Beneath llie moon, with gesluic proud, 
 
 They stately move and slow : 
 Nor scare they at the gathering crowd, 
 
 Who marvel as they go. 
 
 To Learmont's tower a message sped, 
 
 As fast as j^age might run ; 
 And Thomas started from his bed, 
 
 And soon his clothes did on. 
 
 First he woxe i>ale, and then woxe red ; 
 Never a word he spake but three; — 
 " My santl is run : uiy thread is spun : 
 This sign regardctli nu'." 
 
 The cHni har[) iiis neck aroinid, 
 
 In minstrel guise, lie hung ; 
 And on the wind, in doleful sound, 
 
 Its dying accents nnig. 
 
 Then forth he went ; yet turn'd him oft 
 
 To view his ancient hall : 
 On the grey lower, in lustre soft, 
 
 The autinnn moonbeams fall : 
 
 And Leader's waves, like silver sheen, 
 
 Danced shimmering in the ray ; 
 In deepening mass, at distance seen, 
 
 Broad Soltra's mountains lay. 
 
 " Farewell, my father's ancient tower I 
 
 A long farewell,'' said he : 
 " The scene of pleasure, jiomji, or power, 
 
 Thou never more shalt be. 
 
 " To Learmont's name no foot on earth 
 Shall here again belong, 
 And, on thy hosjjitable hearth, 
 The hare shall leave her young.
 
 oj"- 
 
 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 " Adieu ! adieu ! " again he cried, 
 
 All as he turned him roun' — 
 " Farewell lo Leader's silver tide ! 
 
 I-'arewell to Ercildoune ! " 
 
 The hart and hind approach'd the place, 
 
 As lingering yet he stood ; 
 And there, l)efore lord Douglas' face, 
 
 With them he cross'd the flood. 
 
 Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry-brown steed 
 And spurr'd him the Leader o'er ; 
 
 But, though he rode with lightning speed, 
 He never saw them more. 
 
 Some said to hill, and some to glen. 
 Their wondrous course had been ; 
 
 But ne'er in haunts of living men 
 Again was Thomas seen.
 
 TiiK Ballads of Berwickshiri:. 331 
 
 REFERENCES TO THOMAS OF ERCILDOUXE BV 
 OLDER SCOTTISH AND ENGLISH WRITERS. 
 
 Additional note to Thomas of Krcildoune— see note, p. 17. 
 
 Hobfit Maiinyin^ of liruiiiie (l:iO:i) coninieniorates him as the author of an 
 infoniparalile metrical romance entitled Sir Trititrem. His words are — " It is the 
 best ^re.ste ever was or ever woidd lie made, if minstrels (;onld recite as Thomas 
 oonjposed it." His description of the style in which it is written — " (plaint 
 Injjlis "—and the complicated nature of each stanza, corresponds with the modern 
 copy.— " En^'lish Chronicle," Vol. I., p. 90. 
 
 Sir Thomas (iray, Constable of Norham (1.3.55), in " .Scalcronica " — a French 
 chronicle of Kn^lish history — api>arently written in the reign of Edward HI. 
 says — " William Hancstre and Thomas Ercildoun, whose word.s were siioken in 
 figure, as were the ]iropliecies of .Merlin."— I, HLA^u. 
 
 In Barbour's linicc, composed aliout IST.'i, there is a reference to a prophecy of 
 Thoma.s concerning the exploits and succession of Robert the First. — The Bruce, 
 Book H., Chap. 8(1. 
 
 Andro of ^Vyntoun (1424) refers to the iioelic fame of the Ithymer. His words are— 
 
 " Of this fycht i|uliilum si)'ik Thomas 
 Of Krsyldowne, that sayd in derne, etc." 
 —"Original Chronicle of .Scotland," Vol. II., p. 202 ; Book VIII., Chap. 31. 
 
 Bower, who flourished aboiit the year 14y(J, has given a circumstantial account 
 of the celebrated prediction of the Hhynicr relative to the untimely and disastrous 
 fate of Alexander III. — " Scoticlu'onicon," Book X., Chap. 43; Spottiswood's 
 "History," p. 4". 
 
 Henry the .Minstrel, who is sujiposed to have written his metrical history of 
 Wallace in the early ]iart of the fifteenth century, represents Thomas as alive in 
 1290, the year in which Wallace look up arms, and as predicting that before the 
 death of the Scottish hero, 
 
 " Many thousand in field shall make their end, 
 Otf this region he shall the Southron send ; 
 And Scotland thrice he shall bring to tlie peace. 
 So good of haiid again shall never be kend." 
 - Wallace, Book II., Chap. 3. 
 
 Hector Boece or Boyce, Principal of King's College, Aberdeen (14(io-l.")3G), in 
 "Scotorum Ilistoria"— a work in which history is largelj-mixed with fable— narrates 
 the story of Thomas's prophecy concerning Alexander III., and concludes thus — 
 " This Thomas was ane man of great admiration to the people, and shewed sundiy 
 things as they fell, howbeit they were aye hid under olwcure words." — Bellenden's 
 translation of Boece, Fol. 203, Book XIII.. p. '^91. Boecc appears to be the first who 
 puts on record the. tradition that the Uhymer's name was Learmont. 
 
 John Mair or Major (143(1), in his "History of the Nation of the Scots," alsoinserts 
 this prophecy, but he adds the following caution — "To this Thomas our country- 
 men have asciibed many ])redictions, and the common people of Britain yield no 
 slight degree of merit to stories of this kind which I for tlie most part am 
 accustomed to treat with ridicule." — •' De Gestes Scotorum," p. 1.57. 
 
 John Leslie, Bishop of Koss, in his " History of Scotland" from 1436-15(51, has 
 comnienioratcd Thomas as a personage of extraordinary character. — " De Rebus 
 (iesti.s Scotorum," ]>. 220. 
 
 .John SpottLswood, Archbishop of St. .\ndrcws, in his " History of the Church 
 of Scotland," refers to Thomas as a propliet, and pins his faith to the alleged pre- 
 diction concerning the I'niou through one in the ninth degree of Bruce's blood. — 
 " History," p. 47. 
 
 Nisbet the Ilcra'dist, in his great work, styles Thomas as " Sir Thomas Lear- 
 mont of Krsildoun, in theJIerss," and attempts to prove his knightly lineage.
 
 '1^2 MlXSTRF.LSV OF THE MeRSE. 
 
 Jv) 
 
 THE TOWF.R OF KKCILDOL'NE.i 
 
 There is a slillness on tlie nijjlit ; 
 
 (Uiinmers the ghastly moonshine white 
 
 On Learnionl's woods, and Leader's streams, 
 
 Till Earth looks like a land of dreams : 
 
 Up in the arch of heaven afar 
 
 Receded looks earh little star, 
 
 And meteor flashes faintly play 
 
 By fits alorg the milky way. 
 
 Upon me in this eerie hush, 
 
 A thousand wild rmiilinns rusli 
 
 As, gazing spell-hound o'er the >cene, 
 
 Heside thy haunted walls I lean, 
 
 (irey Ercildoune, and feel the jiast 
 
 His charme<l nianiK- oei nic cast; 
 
 \'isions and ilnuighls unknown to Das . 
 
 Bear o'er the fancy wizard sway. 
 
 And call up the traditions told 
 
 Of him who s.ijourned here of old. 
 
 Backward my spiiii to the sway 
 Of shadow)' Eld is led away, 
 When, underneath thine amijje dome, 
 Thomas the Rhymer made iiis home, 
 The wondrous poet-.->eer whose name. 
 Still floating on tiic i)realh of fame. 
 Hath overpast five hundred years, 
 ^'et fresh as yesterday appears, 
 With spells to arm the winter's tale, 
 And make the listener's cheek grow p 
 
 ' l>.i\ i'l Macbeth Moir, a distiiig-uibhed writer uiirler the pseudonym of " Delta," 
 was lx)n> at Mu8selljur;,'h, 6th January, 1708. In 1817 he yrraduated in medicine 
 lit F,<linbiir^'h University, and practised with much success as a physician in tiis 
 nati\e town until his death on fith July, is.'il. lie wrote, amon^'st othtr slorits, 
 the famous .Scot<.h riovil " Mansie VVau;.'h," besides nnich charni:?!;^ poetry which 
 has for Ion;; held a lii^h place with readers. His poem on ErcUdniiiic was the 
 rciult of a journey to th.at place during an intcrestiiij; Herder tour.
 
 The Ballaps of Berwhsksuikk. ^t^t^ 
 
 SccliKlfd here ill chamber lone, 
 
 Often the light of genius shone 
 
 Upon his pictured jiagc, which told 
 
 Of Tristreni brave, and fair Isolde, 
 
 And how their faith was sorely tried, 
 
 And how they would not change, but died 
 
 Together, and the fatal stroke 
 
 Which stilled one heart, the other l)roke : 
 
 And here, on midnight couch reclined, 
 
 Hearkened his gifted ear the wind 
 
 Of dark P'uturity, as on 
 
 Through shadowy ages swept the tone, 
 
 A mystic voice, whose murmurs told 
 
 The acts of eras yet unrolled ; 
 
 While Leader sang a low wild tune, 
 
 And redly set the waning moon, 
 
 Amid the \\'est's pavilion grim 
 
 Old Soltru's mountains vast and dim.
 
 334 Minstrelsy of the Merse. 
 
 N o T i:. 
 
 Among Berwickshire ballads may also be mentioned the follow- 
 ing: — The Shepherd's Aiitiijiiify — a curious rhapsody consisting 
 of eighty-one stanzas, by "Andrew Hartlie, shepherd, Leader \\'ater, 
 Berwickshire." This elaborate efl'usion was jniiited at Tladdington by 
 James Miller in 1823, and sold for one penny. The late Mr. Thomas 
 Gray, gingham manufacturer, Earlston — a gentleman well known 
 throughout the Merse for his anti(|uarian tastes and extraordinary book- 
 collecting zeal — had it republished many years after (1856) by Mr. 1 ). 
 Jerdan, of Dalkeith. The Haddington copy, now extremely rare, bore 
 the following title — "A Poem to the praise of the Shepherds; or. The 
 Shepherd's Antiquity, being a true account of the rise and progress of 
 the shepherds, and df tlieir heroic actions ; as akso giving an account of 
 the <Ireadful storms of snow, thunder, and wind which happened in 1729 
 and 1731. By a CJentleman." Haddington: I'rintetl and sold by James 
 Miller, 1823. The tradition of Andrew Hardit', to wJiom the ballad is 
 ascribed, is that he came into the Leader tlistrict sometime well back 
 in last century from the North — Lorfarshire or Aberdeenshire, -and 
 though he gave hiuiself out for, and worked as a comnion shepherd, 
 it was quite evident that this was not the rank he had been born into, 
 nor was Hardie more than an assumed name. He was a man o( 
 e<lucation, as may be seen from the classical knowledge displayed in 
 the ballad. A silent, moody man, he kept very much by himself, and 
 the mystery of his life is not now likely to be known. 
 
 7 he Giidewife 0' Ttilloshill, in James Miller's " St. bahhed of the 
 Bass," pages 299-310. Edinburgh, 1S24. 
 
 The Mtirdcr of De la Bastic, in Alexander Park's "The Minstrel's 
 Daughter," 1824. 
 
 The Atihl Wife o" Lauderdale^ in Lyk-'s "Ancient Balla<ls and 
 Songs," London, 1827. 
 
 The Cast!e of Bonkyll — an unpublished ballad of which oidy a few 
 verses have been preserved. 
 
 The Laird of Boon — a ballad evidently referring to the same 
 incident as that of 7 he Grey Peel G/cii. 
 
 7'he Brethren S/aucs, by the late William Hrockie, published in his 
 " Leaderside Legends." Sunderland, 1876. 
 
 Lidotn d Gordon. This ballad is wrongly inserted in some collections 
 as a local or Border ballad. The scene of it is laid in Aberdeenshire.
 
 ADDENDA. 
 
 PETER COLDWELL. 
 1811-1892. 
 
 PETER COLDWELL was a native of the royal 
 burgh of Lauder, where he was born in iSi 1. 
 Educated at the parish school, he had for a time as 
 his teacher a }'Outh known as " The Little Maister," 
 from his assisting the smaller children with their 
 lessons, who was destined to become the famous 
 Indian missionary and Orientalist — Dr. John Wilson. 
 After a long separation, it is recorded how these two 
 " Lawther bairns" had the unexpected pleasure of 
 renewing their friendship by mutual recognition at 
 Galashiels railway station, when both were well tinged 
 with "the seer and yellow leaf" While still a young 
 man Coldwell started a grocery business in Galashiels, 
 which he successfully carried on for a large number 
 of years, retiring with a competency to spend the 
 evening of life in restfulness and peace. He died at 
 Kelso on 17th July, 1892. Peter Coldwell was 
 endowed with literary gifts of no mean order, and 
 produced some humorous ballads which procured him 
 fame, not limited to this country, but extending to 
 America and all the English-speaking colonies, and to 
 Germany, for, greatly to his surprise, he learned some 
 years ago that his well-known production. Cuddy 
 Peggy, which is a favourite recitation at home, had
 
 ;;6 J//\svk/-:lsi- tv' y//A- Mekse. 
 
 OJ 
 
 been translated into German and published in the 
 I^'athcrland. The heroine of the ballad — for it is 
 simply a humorous narrative of a real incident — was 
 a well-know n Galalcan, who earned a livelihood by 
 itineratincj the district with her donkey, vending 
 smallwares and groceries. She was a "character" all 
 through, and would reproach or remonstrate with 
 " Dauvit,"" as her donkc}- was named, as if he under- 
 stood the I'^nglish, or rather the Scottish tongue, as 
 well as herself. The hero was the late Rev. Dr. 
 Henderson, an able and amiable minister of the 
 United Presbyterian Church in Galashiels, who full)' 
 appreciated the humour of the ballad, and greatl\' 
 respected its author. Perhaps nothing in the Scottish 
 language has been so frequently recited as this ballad, 
 which never grows stale, and is a never-failing source 
 of enjoyment and laughter. It is not a little strange 
 that the onl}' publication this piece ever had was in 
 the cc^lumns of various local journals, though a few- 
 copies privatel)' printed obtained some circulation. 
 J'^or the first time it is now printed in a collection of 
 local ver.se.s. This piece was not our author's only 
 essay in humorous composition, and those who have 
 heard him recite J'hc Dcil in Daniick Toor, The 
 Paiutcrs, or 'flic Droouin' d tlic Dcil, \\\\\ hardly 
 admit that his best pr(Kluctifjn is best known. 
 Though often urged by his friends to publish his 
 various poetical pieces — for he sometimes wrote in 
 other and graver moods — in a \olumc, he never 
 could bring himself to adopt the advice, and thus his 
 name and powers will likely never be known as they
 
 Peter Colpwell. 337 
 
 deserved. The fame he acquired while \w h'fe brought 
 many whose faces he had never before seen to seek 
 his acquaintanceship and advice ; and he also knew 
 some celebrities in the literar\- world, amoni;" whom 
 may be mentioned Mr. Gerald .Massey and the late 
 Mr. Russell of the Scotsiiicoi. He nia}- be said at one 
 time to ha\e known all (jalashiels, and especially 
 these who had a taste for literature, or things above 
 the mere food and work of daiU- life, with w hom he 
 would meet and discuss the politics of the da\', and 
 the world of mind and morals. 
 
 [For iimcli of tlie ul)0\e sketch tlic editor is iiiflclitf(l (o Mr. .T. If. I{iitherfnr<l, 
 Kelso.] 
 
 Ci'DDV ri;(;(;v. 
 
 In the liigh town of (Jala livtcl auld IVi^i^y 'liiilin, 
 Wha wa.s blessed wi' conlent, though al times too!< to c;runil)lin' ; 
 Her calling in life was provisions to hawk, 
 And David, her cud, bore them a' on his back I 
 Each morning they marched to their daily employ, 
 Nae task did they think it, but rather a joy ; 
 xVnd David jogged on wi' his w eel-laden creels, 
 \\hile I'egg}' half-bent, hirpled after his heels. 
 Frae morning to nicht thus wandered alane, 
 But aye al the dusk o' the gloamin' cam' hame ; 
 And when Peggy had sell aff the giiids o' her pack, 
 Then she mounted astride and rode hame on his back. 
 For mony a long year thus they toiled on thegither, 
 And the longer they toiled they grew fonder o' ither ; 
 For Davitl she seUlom had reason to flog. 
 Though gently >he touched him al times wi' the lirogue. 
 Bui it hajipenetl ae day that i)ot)r David took ill, 
 Which the heart o' auld Peggy wi" .sadness did till, 
 And a sorrowfu' tear filled the auld body's e'e 
 As she thought to herself puir David wad dee ; 
 And seeing him placed in this helpless condition 
 She ihocht it Iter duty to get a physician, 
 
 Y
 
 2zS J//.ysrKELsy or the Merse. 
 
 JO 
 
 So awiiy for lliat purpose slic luirricdiy sel, 
 
 W'Ikii just on lier way slic llic minister met. 
 
 •' Well, Marj^arcl 1"' ho sail!, " I liope you arc well."' 
 
 " I ihaiik you," said I'cggy, " Tm gnily mysd"; 
 
 lint I'm sorry lo say oor David's no wecl. 
 
 An' I'm just j^aun awa' lo ^ct medical sl<ill." 
 
 " Indectl, to licar that I'm e\cecchn_i;I\- s>ur)'. 
 
 Hut, if sjwrcd, I'll come down and see him to-morrow. 
 
 So wi" that I'eggy bowed and speedily withdrew. 
 
 Syne awa' like the w ind on her errand she (lew . 
 
 The doctor came prompt at auld I'cggy's recjuest, 
 
 Thinkin' a' the road up what he might suggest ; 
 
 So his patient wi' skill he minutely surveyed. 
 
 And then shook his head and reluctantly said — 
 
 " His case it is bad — nay, hopeless, I ilouhl — 
 
 But I'll try ^\■hat I can lo bring him about." 
 
 .So he blistered and bled him, and gave him a dose 
 
 O' the best o' strong ])hysic, as one might sujipose ; 
 
 And these means they were blest lo l)ring David relief. 
 
 And to ease at the same time the auld body's grief, 
 
 For as David grew weel her s])irits grew licht, 
 
 .\nd her e'e, lichtly dinmied, shone wonderfu' bright. 
 
 The minister, who, lo his word ever true, 
 
 Came down the next day as he ]iromised to do, 
 
 On purpose, nae doubt, as a matter of course, 
 
 To see whether David was better or worse. 
 
 " Well, Margaret," he said, " how is David to-day ?" 
 
 " Deed, sir, he's some belter, I'm happy lo say ; 
 
 The dcjctor's been here and used every means, 
 
 And to (Hitward appearance some better he seems." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear that ; I hope he'll recover, 
 
 .\nd that Ixjlh may be spared for a while lo each oilier. 
 
 " Deed, .sir, I'm gla<l and thankfu' atweel. 
 
 For little I thocht to have seen him as weel ; 
 
 I'ut come in, sir, and rest you a bit." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you," said he, " I scarcely must sit, 
 
 Hut, if it's convenient, with David I'll pray." 
 
 " Lord bless me, sir, what on the earth do you say ?" 
 
 " I'll pray with your husband that's now in distress,"
 
 Mary Jkglis. 339 
 
 " The deil's in tlie man— would you pray for an ass ■'' 
 
 " Oh, fic I .\hiigaict, fic ! wliy don't you think shame 
 
 To call your poor husband by sucli a vile name ? " 
 
 " My husband ! — I daursay the minister's mad — 
 
 It's mcin\ a long year sin' my husband was dead." 
 
 " Oh, Margaret, you don't mean to say it is true ? " 
 
 " It's as true as this minute I'm speaking to you." 
 
 " Then is I)a\ id your son, or relation in blood ? " 
 
 " Guid gracious ! the man ! isn't David the cud ! " 
 
 " A cud ! " cried the parson ; " Aye, a cuddy I " cried she ; 
 
 " Sic a farce to compare a ilumb creatur' to me." 
 
 " Oh, Margaret ; I fnul I've been (piite mistaken, 
 
 I David your cud for your husband have taken, 
 
 So pardon what I've in my ignorance said, 
 
 And the awkward mistake into which I've been led." 
 
 So the priest he no longer protracted his stay, 
 
 But \vi' reverence bowed, and syne went away, 
 
 And laughed a' the road hame till nearly distracted, 
 
 To think sic a part in the drama he acted. 
 
 MARY INGLIS. 
 
 [The 'ollowiii^' c'Oiiiposilions are from the pen of a lady once well known in the 
 Mer.se — Miss Mary Ino^lis, daughter of the late Rev. 1>. 51. InL,dis, minister of the 
 Inilcd I'resbyterian t'hureh, Stockbridjie, t'ockburnspalh. On her fatliers death 
 in 18.jS, Miss Inglis removed near Glasgou-, where slie has led a truly devoted life. 
 " Her poetry, which evinces a gentle, sympathetic nature, is expressed with a 
 (piiel and melodious grace, and witli fine poetic sensibilities.'' It is just the kind 
 of verse that one expects from a writer in full louch with e\crything that is good 
 and true and hoantifnl in humanity and in the world. The poems are selected 
 from a small \olunie which Miss Inglis has entitled " t'roonings."l 
 
 TllK Al 1,1) M.VNSK. 
 
 The auld manse I the auld manse 1 
 
 Was neither grand nor braw ; 
 The passages were narrow, 
 
 The rooms low-roofed and sma'; 
 IJut dear to me was every stane 
 
 In each time-worn wa'.
 
 340 
 
 MixsTKLLsy OF THE Meksk, 
 
 lino .^weel ilic >uniiy L;;ii(lcn l(iol<c<l 
 
 \\'i' \\ its tlowicts fair, 
 Thai wi' ihcif niini:;lcil frai^ranct: 
 
 I'cifiuiKd llic sumiiui" air, 
 And ^^'.\ ihc lumL^i) lit>ney-bees 
 
 'I'hal tlockcd and fra^lcd tlicrc. 
 
 The auld niansc ! liic auld niansc I 
 Was filled wi' memories sweet 
 
 O' days when each spot echoed wi' 
 The ilin o' dancin' feet, 
 
 And niclils when lililiie \uun_i; faces 
 Smiled rovnid ihe lieaith sae neat. 
 
 The daiicin' feel hae lang been still, 
 
 The faces hid away 
 Beneath the grass and gowans 
 
 For many a weary da}- ; 
 I loo aflen the bonniest blossoms 
 
 Are the lirst to droop and decay ! 
 
 The auld manse ! the auld manse ! 
 
 Is altered noo and l"me. 
 Rude hands hae torn down the jjorch 
 
 Where the roses used to twine 
 Sae lovingly about the stems 
 
 O' the starry jessamine. 
 
 I miss the shady summer seat, 
 
 The apple trees are gone, 
 Whose rich ri])e clusters keeked langsync 
 
 Through each briclit window pane; 
 It does na please my e'e sac wee! 
 
 That cauld bare front o' stane. 
 
 The auld manse 1 tiie auld manse ! 
 
 The hanie o' infancy. 
 When each sma' grief was soothed away 
 
 On a loving mother's knee ; 
 A fairer, sweeter, sunnier spot 
 
 I ne'er expect to see
 
 A/akv Jxcl/s. 341 
 
 Till life's hing journey ower, I reach 
 
 The heavenly hanie sac fair, 
 Where they drap nae tear, and hrealhe nae sigh, 
 
 And ken nae grief or care — 
 The hanie where earth's li)>t loved ones 
 
 Ke-unile for ever mair. 
 
 \ U.N JJL'RNSIDK. 
 
 All, me I what gleefu' days I've seen 
 
 ]!)• yon hmnside ; 
 What jiloys among the Ijrackens green 
 
 By yon hurnside ! 
 I5iit noo nae bricht-e'ed bairnies meet 
 To climb the cliffs wi' tireless feet. 
 And pu' fair flowers and berries sweet 
 
 V>y yon burnside. 
 
 There's nae din' or daffin' noo 
 
 By yon burnside ; 
 There's nae licht-hearted laughin' noo 
 
 By yon burnside. 
 Still high on the thyme-scented brae 
 The wild wee Iambics blithely play, 
 But a' the bairnies are away 
 
 Frae yon burnside. 
 
 It's lanesome noo to dander doon 
 
 By yon burnside ; 
 And waefu' noo the waters croon 
 
 By yon burnside. 
 The laverock's lilt that used to be 
 Sae fu' o' mirthfu' melody, 
 Noo sounds like some sad dirge to me 
 
 By yon burnside. 
 
 But aye I like to wander yet 
 
 By yon burnside ; 
 The flowery knowes I'll ne'er forget 
 
 By yon burnside ;
 
 342 MixsTKELsy 0J-- THE Merse. 
 
 l"<(i- oil ! MC visions liaiinl mo iherc, 
 O' gracffu' forms aiul faces fair, 
 A' _£;Anc, a' ganc, f<ir cvermair 
 !• lae yon Ijurnside." 
 
 Lasi Longings. 
 
 •' (Jh 1 l)ring mo a deep cauld draught,"' he .said, 
 
 " O' the water I used to drink, 
 I'rae the well at the fool o' Kwieside, 
 
 \Vi' the buttercups ryund its brink ; 
 And lliere grew the sweel-spottcd orchis 
 
 Aniang the rushes green. 
 And the l)onnic blue-c"cd s]K'eilwell, 
 
 And the scented meadow-queen. ' 
 
 They iield a cup to his pale parched iijis, 
 
 l!ui lie turned his head away, 
 And yearned on still for a " deep cauld draught " 
 
 Krae tlie well in the howe o' the Ijrae. 
 On Memory's wings his thochts had flown 
 
 Away from the close dark room. 
 To the sunny hillside where he used 1<j play, 
 
 'Mang the feathery ferns and broom- 
 
 Upon his ear there fell ance niair 
 
 Tile sang o' the Ileriot burn. 
 As it ri]ii)led alang 'neath the alder boughs, 
 
 \Vi' niony a curve ami turn : 
 And he heard again llie bees' blithe hum 
 
 Amang the heather bells ; 
 And the waefu' wail o' the new-spained lambs 
 
 High uj) on the grassy fells. 
 
 And ane by anc l>efore his e'e 
 
 Rose ))ictures sweet and fair, 
 O' the dear auld hame sae far away, 
 
 That he wail ne'er see mair. 
 lUit fairer than a' were the sichts he saw, 
 
 Lang ere the end o' the day. 
 In the blessed land where they thirst nae inair. 
 
 .\nd a' tears arc wiped away.
 
 J/.i/n- Ixc.Lis. 34 ;: 
 
 Let iiiK Haikmks I'l.w. 
 
 Oh! kl llie liaiinics play tlicniscls, 
 
 1 like to licar llicir din, 
 I like tu hoar each restless fool 
 
 Come tripjnn' ool und in; 
 I like to see each face sae bricht 
 
 And each wee heart sae gay ; 
 They mind me o' my ain young days — 
 
 Oil I let llie l>aiinies play. 
 
 Oh I dinna check their sinless mirth, 
 
 Or make them liull and wae 
 \Vi' ghjomy lo(jks or cankered words, 
 
 But let the bairnies play. 
 Auld douce wise folks should ne'er forget 
 
 They ance were young as they. 
 As fu' o' fun and mischief, too — 
 
 Then let the bairnies play. 
 
 And never try to set a heid, 
 
 \Vi' auld age grim and grey, 
 Upon a wee saft snawy oeck — 
 
 Na ! let the bairnies play, 
 For, oh I there's mony a weary nicht, 
 
 And mony a waefu' day 
 Before them, if (lod spares tlu'ir lives — 
 
 Sae let the bairnies pla\'.
 
 INDEX OF NAMES. 
 
 Riillie, Lady luiscll, 5J. 
 IJallantyne, Rev. James, 226. 
 Harrie, James, 97. 
 I)inning, Lord, 66. 
 Brack, Jessie W'aiiless, 237. 
 Brockie, William, 163. 
 Brown, Alexander, 1 10. 
 Brown, David, 293. 
 Buchan, Earl of, 91. 
 
 Calder, R. M., 254. 
 Chisholni, Walter, 19S. 
 Coklwell, I'eler, 335. 
 Craw, William, 107. 
 Crawford, Robert, 70. 
 Ciihningliam, Rev. Andrew, 179. 
 
 Dawson, Christoplier, 239. 
 Deans, Cieorge, 265. 
 Denholm, Agnes .\l:Krk, 270. 
 iJickson, Thomas, 1 19. 
 Dodds, Jeannie, 263. 
 Dudgeon, William, 99. 
 
 Easton, iVnnie Burton, 290. 
 Ercildoune, Thomas of, 9. 
 Erskine, .Sir David, 95. 
 Erskine, Ralph, 82. 
 E. V. O. E., 2S5. 
 
 Forsyth, Williun), 183. 
 Foster, William Air, 149. 
 
 Cihson, Charles Philip, 279. 
 Gibson, John, 181. 
 Gihiiour, George, 209. 
 Grainger, >LD. , James, 74. 
 (iray, Rev. James, 102. 
 Gray, Simon, 292. 
 
 Haddington, Earl of, 64. 
 Happer, Thomas, 250. 
 I lately, T. L., 293. 
 1 len<lersi>n. Dr. George, 139. 
 llewit, Alexander, 1 14. 
 Hewit, John, 293. 
 Home, Alexander, 156. 
 Hume, Alexander, 38. 
 Hume, Anna, 51. 
 
 I luuie, Daviil, 48. 
 Hume, ALD., James, 50. 
 Hume-Campl)ell, Lady, 172. 
 Hume, Patrick, 63. 
 Hume, Sir Patrick, 37. 
 Hunter, Mrs. John, 85. 
 
 Inglis, Mary, 339. 
 
 Knox, Thomas, 173. 
 
 Lauderdale, Earl of, 36. 
 Loiimer, Mary Anne, 205. 
 
 Mailland, Baron, 29. 
 Maitland, Mary, 35. 
 Mailland, Sir Richard, 22. 
 Maitland, Thomas, 34. 
 Marjoril)anks, Captain John, 128. 
 Mearns, Rev. l^eter, 287 
 Mennon, Robert, 133. 
 Miller, Rev. Charles, 275. 
 Miller, Thomas, 248. 
 M'Craket, Peter, 187. 
 
 Naismiih, Rev. Robert, 2S2. 
 
 Park, Alexander, 292. 
 Paulin, George, 218. 
 Pringle, Robert, 261. 
 
 Reid, John, 2S8. 
 Robertson, James, 293. 
 Roliertson, J(jhn, 117. 
 
 .Sanderson, James, 121. 
 Scott, Ladv John, 211. 
 Steele, Andrew, 158. 
 Sutherland, William. 137. 
 Swinton, Sir John, 83. 
 .Swinton, Lord, 84. 
 
 Telford, William, 24^ 
 Tough, .Margaret II. If., 205. 
 
 Usher, John, 208. 
 
 Wanless, .\nilrew, 228. 
 Watts, Thomas, 190. 
 While, Thomas, 293. 
 Whitehead, John, 131. 
 Wilson, Dr. John, 155.
 
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