The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iii Part 9

TUNE--_"Roslin Castle."_

O! come with me, for the queen of night Is throned on high in her beauty bright: 'Tis now the silent hour of even, When all is still in earth an' heaven; The cold flowers which the valleys strew Are sparking bright wi' pearly dew, And hush'd is e'en the bee's soft hum, Then come with me, sweet Mary, come.

The opening blue-bell--Scotland's pride-- In heaven's pure azure deeply dyed; The daisy meek frae the dewy dale, The wild thyme, and the primrose pale, Wi' the lily frae the gla.s.sy lake, Of these a fragrant wreath I 'll make, And bind them 'mid the locks that flow In rich luxuriance from thy brow.

O, love, without thee, what were life?

A bustling scene of care and strife; A waste, where no green flowery glade Is found for shelter or for shade.

But cheer'd by thee, the griefs we share We can with calm composure bear; For the darkest nicht o' care and toil.

Is bricht when blest by woman's smile.

'TIS NOT THE ROSE UPON THE CHEEK.

'Tis not the rose upon the cheek, Nor eyes in langour soft that roll, That fix the lover's timid glance, And fire his wilder'd soul.

But 'tis the eye that swims in tears, Diffusing soft a joy all holy; So soothing to the heart of love, And yet so melancholy.

The note that falters on the tongue, Sweet as the dying voice of eve, That calms the throbbing breast of pain, Yet makes it love to grieve!

The hand, alternate fiery warm And icy cold, the bursting sigh, The look that hopes, yet seems to fear, Pale cheek and burning eye.

These, these the magic circle twine, The lover's thoughts and feelings seize; 'Till scarce a son of earth he seems, But lives in what he sees.

I HEARD THE EVENING LINNET'S VOICE.

AIR--_"Gramachree."_

I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts among, Yet sweeter were the tender woes of Isabella's song; So soft into the ear they steal, so soft into the soul, The deep'ning pain of love they soothe, and sorrow's pang control.

I look'd upon the pure brook that murmur'd through the glade, And mingled in the melody that Isabella made; Yet purer was the residence of Isabella's heart, Above the reach of pride and guile, above the reach of art.

I look'd upon the azure of the deep unclouded sky, Yet clearer was the blue serene of Isabella's eye; Ne'er softer fell the rain-drop of the first relenting year, Than falls from Isabella's eye the pity-melted tear.

All this my fancy prompted, ere a sigh of sorrow proved, How hopelessly, yet faithfully, and tenderly I loved!

Yet though bereft of hope I love, still will I love the more, As distance binds the exile's heart to his dear native sh.o.r.e.

OH! DEAR WERE THE JOYS.

AIR--_"Here 's a health to ane I love dear."_

Oh! dear were the joys that are past!

Oh! dear were the joys that are past!

Inconstant thou art, as the dew of the morn, Or a cloud of the night on the blast!

How dear was the breath of the eve, When bearing thy fond faithless sigh!

And the moonbeam how dear that betray'd The love that illumined thine eye!

Thou vow'dst in my arms to be mine, Thou swar'st by the moon's sacred light; But dark roll'd a cloud o'er the sky, It hid the pale queen of the night.

Thou hast broken thy plighted faith, And broken a fond lover's heart; Yes! in winter the moon's fleeting ray I would trust more than thee and thy art!

I am wretched to think on the past-- Even hope now my peace cannot save; Thou hast given to my rival thy hand, But me thou hast doom'd to my grave.

WILLIAM NICHOLSON.

William Nicholson, known as the Galloway poet, was born at Tannymaus, in the parish of Borgue, on the 15th August 1782. His father followed the occupation of a carrier; he subsequently took a farm, and finally kept a tavern. Of a family of eight children, William was the youngest; he inherited a love of poetry from his mother, a woman of much intelligence. Early sent to school, impaired eyesight interfered with his progress in learning. Disqualified by his imperfect vision from engaging in manual labour, he chose the business of pedlar or travelling merchant. In the course of his wanderings he composed verses, which, sung at the various homesteads he visited with his wares, became popular. Having submitted some of his poetical compositions to Dr Duncan of Ruthwell, and Dr Alexander Murray, the famous philologist, these gentlemen commended his attempting a publication. In the course of a personal canva.s.s, he procured 1500 subscribers; and in 1814 appeared as the author of "Tales in Verse, and Miscellaneous Poems descriptive of Rural Life and Manners," Edinburgh, 12mo. By the publication he realised 100, but this sum was diminished by certain imprudent excesses. With the balance, he republished some tracts on the subject of Universal Redemption, which exhausted the remainder of his profits. In 1826 he proceeded to London, where he was kindly entertained by Allan Cunningham and other distinguished countrymen. On his return to Galloway, he was engaged for a short time as a.s.sistant to a cattle-driver. In 1828, he published a second edition of his poems, which was dedicated to Henry, now Lord Brougham, and to which was prefixed a humorous narrative of his life by Mr Macdiarmid. Latterly, Nicholson a.s.sumed the character of a gaberlunzie; he played at merrymakings on his bagpipes, for snuff and whisky. For sometime his head-quarters were at Howford, in the parish of Tongland; he ultimately was kept by the Poors' Board at Kirk-Andrews, in his native parish. He died at Brigend of Borgue, on the 16th May 1849.

He was rather above the middle size, and well formed. His countenance was peculiarly marked, and his eyes were concealed by his bushy eye-brows and long brown hair. As a poet and song-writer he claims a place in the national minstrelsy, which the irregular habits of his life will not forfeit. The longest poem in his published volume, ent.i.tled "The Country La.s.s," in the same measure as the "Queen's Wake," contains much simple and graphic delineation of life; while the ballad of "The Brownie of Blednoch," has pa.s.sages of singular power. His songs are true to nature.

THE BRAES OF GALLOWAY.

TUNE--_"White c.o.c.kade."_

O la.s.sie, wilt thou gang wi' me, And leave thy friens i' th' south countrie-- Thy former friens and sweethearts a', And gang wi' me to Gallowa'?

O Gallowa' braes they wave wi' broom, And heather-bells in bonnie bloom; There 's lordly seats, and livins braw, Amang the braes o' Gallowa'!

There 's stately woods on mony a brae, Where burns and birds in concert play; The waukrife echo answers a', Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.

O Gallowa' braes, &c.

The simmer s.h.i.+el I 'll build for thee Alang the bonnie banks o' Dee, Half circlin' roun' my father's ha', Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.

O Gallowa' braes, &c.

When autumn waves her flowin' horn, And fields o' gowden grain are shorn, I 'll busk thee fine, in pearlins braw, To join the dance in Gallowa'.

O Gallowa' braes, &c.

At e'en, whan darkness shrouds the sight, And lanely, langsome is the night, Wi' tentie care my pipes I 'll thraw, Play "A' the way to Gallowa'."

O Gallowa' braes, &c.

Should fickle fortune on us frown, Nae lack o' gear our love should drown; Content should s.h.i.+eld our haddin' sma', Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.