The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iv Part 15

And I would rather roam beneath Thy scowling winter skies, Than listlessly attune my lyre Where sun-bright flowers arise.

The baron's hall, the peasant's cot Protect alike the free; The tyrant dies who breathes thine air; O Scotland's hills for me!

FOOTNOTES:

[15] At the request of one Roger, a music-master in Edinburgh, who had obtained a copy of the first two stanzas, a third was added by Mr Robert Chambers, and in this form the song appears in some of the collections.

Mr Chambers's stanza proceeds thus:--

In southern climes the radiant sun A brighter light displays; But I love best his milder beams That s.h.i.+ne on Scotland's braes.

Then dear, romantic native land If e'er I roam from thee, I'll ne'er forget the cheering lay; O Scotland's hills for me!

ROBERT HOGG.

Robert Hogg was born in the parish of Stobo, about the close of the century. His father was William Hogg, eldest brother of the Ettrick Shepherd. William Hogg was also a shepherd, a sensible, well-conducted man, and possessed of considerable literary talent. Receiving a cla.s.sical education at the grammar-school of Peebles, Robert proceeded to the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying for the Church. Abandoning his original views, he became corrector of the press, or reader in the printing-office of Messrs Ballantyne. John Wilson, the future vocalist, was his yoke-fellow in office. His official duties were arduous, but he contrived to find leisure for contributing, both in prose and verse, to the periodicals. His literary talents attracted the favourable notice of Mr J. G. Lockhart, who, on being appointed, in 1825, to conduct the _Quarterly Review_, secured his services as secretary or literary a.s.sistant. He therefore proceeded to London, but as it was found there was not sufficient occasion for his services in his new appointment, he returned in a few months to the duties of his former situation. For a short period he acted as amanuensis to Sir Walter Scott, while the "Life of Napoleon" was in progress. According to his own account,[16] this must have been no relief from his ordinary toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost evening, excepting only two short s.p.a.ces for meals. When _Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_ was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of a.s.sistant editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor, both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peebless.h.i.+re, where he died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child.

Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, ent.i.tled "The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are transcribed from a small periodical, ent.i.tled "The Rainbow," published at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Alb.u.m, in the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression, but they are defective in startling originality and power.[17]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."

[17] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert Chambers for many of the particulars contained in this memoir.

QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG.

Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me, Over the holme so green, over the lea, Over the corrie, and down by the lake, Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake, Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea: Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!

Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill; Come at the dead of night when all is still; Come over mountain steep, come over brae, Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head gray; Come from the forest glade and greenwood tree; Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!

Were ye by woodland or cleugh of the brae, Were ye by ocean rock dash'd by the spray, Were ye by sunny dell up in the ben, Or by the braken howe far down the glen, Or by the river side; where'er ye be, Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!

Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to-night, Haste to your revel sports gleesome and light, To bathe in the dew-drops, and bask in the Leven, And dance on the moonbeams far up the heaven, Then sleep on the rosebuds that bloom on the lea; Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!

WHEN AUTUMN COMES.

When autumn comes an' heather bells Bloom bonnie owre yon moorland fells, An' corn that waves on lowland dales Is yellow ripe appearing;

Bonnie la.s.sie will ye gang Shear wi' me the hale day lang; An' love will mak' us eithly bang The weary toil o' shearing?

An' if the la.s.ses should envy, Or say we love, then you an' I Will pa.s.s ilk ither slyly by, As if we werena caring.

But aye I wi' my heuk will whang The thistles, if in p.r.i.c.kles strang Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang, When we gang to the shearing.

An' aye we'll haud our rig afore, An' ply to hae the shearing o'er, Syne you will soon forget you bore Your neighbours' jibes and jeering.

For then, my la.s.sie, we'll be wed, When we hae proof o' ither had, An' nae mair need to mind what's said When we're thegither shearing.

BONNIE PEGGIE, O!

Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!

Down ayont the gowan knowe, bonnie Peggie, O!

When the siller burn rins clear, When the rose blooms on the brier, An' where there is none to hear, bonnie Peggie, O!

I hae lo'ed you e'en an' morn, bonnie Peggie, O!

You hae laugh'd my love to scorn, bonnie Peggie, O!

My heart's been sick and sair, But it shall be sae nae mair, I've now gotten a' my care, bonnie Peggie, O!

You hae said you love me too, bonnie Peggie, O!

An' you've sworn you will be true, bonnie Peggie, O!

Let the world gae as it will, Be it weel or be it ill, Nae hap our joy shall spill, bonnie Peggie, O!

Gang wi' me to yonder howe, bonnie Peggie, O!

Where the flowers o' simmer grow, bonnie Peggie, O!

Nae mair my love is cross'd, Sorrow's sairest pang is past, I am happy at the last, bonnie Peggie, O!

A WISH BURST.

Oh, to bound o'er the bonnie blue sea, With the winds and waves for guides, From all the wants of Nature free And all her ties besides.

Beyond where footstep ever trode Would I hold my onward way, As wild as the waves on which I rode, And fearless too as they.

The angry winds with lengthen'd sweep Were music to mine ear; I'd mark the gulfs of the yawning deep Close round me without fear.

When winter storms burst from the cloud And trouble the ocean's breast, I'd joy me in their roaring loud, And mid their war find rest.

By islands fair in the ocean placed, With waves all murmuring round, My wayward course should still be traced, And still no home be found.

When calm and peaceful sleeps the tide, And men look out to sea, My bark in silence by should glide, Their wonder and awe to be.

When sultry summer suns prevail, And rest on the parching land, The cool sea breeze would I inhale, O'er the ocean breathing bland.

A restless sprite, that likes delight, In calm and tempest found, 'Twere joy to me o'er the bonnie blue sea For ever and aye to bound.