The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iv Part 13

Dunallan's halls ring loud with glee-- The feast-cup glads Glengarry; The joy that should for ever be When mutual lovers marry.

The shout and sh.e.l.l the revellers raise, Dunallan and Clanronald; And minstrel measures pour to praise Fair Kath'rine and brave Donald!

GUID NIGHT, AN' JOY BE WI' YOU A'.

Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'!

Since it is sae that I maun gang; Short seem'd the gate to come, but ah!

To gang again as wearie lang.

Sic joyous nights come nae sae thrang That I sae sune sou'd haste awa'; But since it's sae that I maun gae, Guid night, and joy be wi' ye a'!

This night I ween we've had the heart To gar auld Time tak' to his feet; That makes us a' fu' laith to part, But aye mair fain again to meet!

To dree the winter's drift and weet For sic a night is nocht ava, For hours the sweetest o' the sweet; Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!

Our bald-pow'd daddies here we've seen, In younker revels fidgin' fain; Our gray-hair'd grannies here hae been, Like daffin hizzies, young again!

To mony a merrie auld Scot's strain We've deftly danced the time awa': We met in mirth--we part wi' pain, Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!

My nimble gray neighs at the yett, My shouthers roun' the plaid I throw; I've clapt the spur upon my buit, The guid braid bonnet on my brow!

Then night is wearing late I trow-- My hame lies mony a mile awa'; The mair's my need to mount and go, Guid night, an' joy be wi' you a'!

THE GATHERING.[12]

Rise, rise! Lowland and Highlandman, Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early; Rise, rise! mainland and islandmen, Belt on your broad claymores--fight for Prince Charlie; Down from the mountain steep, Up from the valley deep, Out from the clachan, the bothie, and s.h.i.+eling, Bugle and battle-drum Bid chief and va.s.sal come, Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing.

Men of the mountains--descendants of heroes!

Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers; Say, shall the Southern--the Sa.s.senach fear us When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers?

Too long on the trophied walls Of your ancestral halls, Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin; Seize then, ye mountain Macs, Buckler and battle-axe, Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Breadalbin!

When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward?

When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal?

Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart, Follow your leader--the rightful--the royal!

Chief of Clanronald, Donald Macdonald!

Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon!

Rouse every kilted clan, Rouse every loyal man, Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on!

FOOTNOTES:

[12] A MS. copy of this song had been sent by the author to the Ettrick Shepherd. Having been found among the Shepherd's papers after his decease, it was regarded as his own composition, and has consequently been included in the posthumous edition of his songs, published by the Messrs Blackie. The song appears in Imlah's "May Flowers," published in 1827.

MARY.

AIR--_"The Dawtie."_

There lives a young la.s.sie Far down yon lang glen, How I lo'e that la.s.sie There's nae ane can ken!

Oh! a saint's faith may vary, But faithfu' I'll be-- For weel I lo'e Mary, And Mary lo'es me.

Red, red as the rowan Her smiling wee mou, An' white as the gowan Her breast and her brow; Wi' the foot o' a fairy She links o'er the lea-- Oh! weel I lo'e Mary, An' Mary lo'es me.

Where yon tall forest timmer, An' lowly broom bower, To the suns.h.i.+ne o' simmer, Spread verdure an' flower; There, when night clouds the cary, Beside her I'll be-- For weel I lo'e Mary, An' Mary lo'es me!

OH! GIN I WERE WHERE GADIE RINS.[13]

Oh! gin I were where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins By the foot o' Bennachie.

I've roam'd by Tweed, I've roam'd by Tay, By Border Nith, and Highland Spey, But dearer far to me than they The braes o' Bennachie.

When blade and blossoms sprout in spring, And bid the burdies wag the wing, They blithely bob, and soar, and sing By the foot o' Bennachie.

When simmer cleeds the varied scene Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green, I fain would be where aft I've been At the foot o' Bennachie.

When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn, And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn, 'Tis blithe to toom the clyack horn At the foot o' Bennachie.

When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill O'er icy burn and sheeted hill, The ingle neuk is gleesome still At the foot o' Bennachie.

Though few to welcome me remain, Though a' I loved be dead and gane, I'll back, though I should live alane, To the foot o' Bennachie.

Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- Oh, gin I were where Gadie rins By the foot o' Bennachie.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] The chorus of this song, which is said to have been originally connected with a plaintive Jacobite ditty, now lost, has suggested several modern songs similar in manner and sentiment. Imlah composed two songs with this chorus. The earlier of these compositions appears in the "May Flowers." It is evidently founded upon a rumour, which prevailed in Aberdeens.h.i.+re during the first quarter of the century, to the effect, that a Scottish officer, serving in Egypt, had been much affected on hearing a soldier's wife _crooning_ to herself the original words of the air. We have inserted in the text Imlah's second version, as being somewhat smoother in versification. It is the only song which we have transcribed from his volume, published in 1841. But the most popular words which have been attached to the air and chorus were the composition of a student in one of the colleges of Aberdeen, nearly thirty years since, who is now an able and accomplished clergyman of the Scottish Church. Having received the chorus and heard the air from a comrade, he immediately composed the following verses, here printed from the author's MS.:--

Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins, Oh, an' I were where Gadie rins, At the back o' Bennachie!

I wish I were where Gadie rins, 'Mong fragrant heath and yellow whins, Or, brawlin' doun the bosky lins At the back o' Bennachie;

To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang, To wander birks and braes amang, Wi' friens and fav'rites, left sae lang, At the back o' Bennachie.

How mony a day, in blithe spring-time, How mony a day, in summer's prime, I wil'd awa' my careless time On the heights o' Bennachie.

Ah! Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife, And walth is won wi' grief and strife-- Ae day gie me o' youthfu' life At the back o' Bennachie.

Oh, Mary! there, on ilka nicht, When baith our hearts were young and licht, We've wander'd whan the moon was bricht Wi' speeches fond and free.

Oh! ance, ance mair where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins-- Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins At the back o' Bennachie.