The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume I Part 16

Go to Berwick, Johnnie, And regain your honour; Drive them ower the Tweed, And show our Scottish banner.

I am Rob, the King, And ye are Jock, my brither; But, before we lose her, We 'll a' there thegither.

[26] These stanzas are founded on some lines of old doggerel, beginning--

"Go, go, go, Go to Berwick, Johnnie; Thou shalt have the horse, And I shall have the pony."

MISS FORBES' FAREWELL TO BANFF.

Farewell, ye fields an' meadows green!

The blest retreats of peace an' love; Aft have I, silent, stolen from hence, With my young swain a while to rove.

Sweet was our walk, more sweet our talk, Among the beauties of the spring; An' aft we 'd lean us on a bank, To hear the feather'd warblers sing.

The azure sky, the hills around, Gave double beauty to the scene; The lofty spires of Banff in view-- On every side the waving grain.

The tales of love my Jamie told, In such a saft an' moving strain, Have so engaged my tender heart, I 'm loth to leave the place again.

But if the Fates will be sae kind As favour my return once more, For to enjoy the peace of mind In those retreats I had before: Now, farewell, Banff! the nimble steeds Do bear me hence--I must away; Yet time, perhaps, may bring me back, To part nae mair from scenes so gay.

TELL ME, JESSIE, TELL ME WHY?

Tell me, Jessie, tell me why My fond suit you still deny?

Is your bosom cold as snow?

Did you never feel for woe?

Can you hear, without a sigh, Him complain who for you could die?

If you ever shed a tear, Hear me, Jessie, hear, O hear!

Life to me is not more dear Than the hour brings Jessie here; Death so much I do not fear As the parting moment near.

Summer smiles are not so sweet As the bloom upon your cheek; Nor the crystal dew so clear As your eyes to me appear.

These are part of Jessie's charms, Which the bosom ever warms; But the charms by which I 'm stung, Come, O Jessie, from thy tongue!

Jessie, be no longer coy; Let me taste a lover's joy; With your hand remove the dart, And heal the wound that 's in my heart.

THE HAWTHORN.

Last midsummer's morning, as going to the fair, I met with young Jamie, wh'as taking the air; He ask'd me to stay with him, and indeed he did prevail, Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale, Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale.

He said he had loved me both long and sincere, That none on the green was so gentle and fair; I listen'd with pleasure to Jamie's tender tale, Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- That blooms in the valley, &c.

"Oh, haste," says he, "to hear the birds in the grove, How charming their song, and enticing to love!

The briers that with roses perfume the pa.s.sing gale, And meet the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale"-- That blooms in the valley, &c.

His words were so moving, and looks soft and kind, Convinced me the youth had nae guile in his mind; My heart, too, confess'd him the flower of the dale, Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- That blooms in the valley, &c.

Yet I oft bade him go, for I could no longer stay, But leave me he would not, nor let me away; Still pressing his suit, and at last did prevail, Beneath the pretty hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- That blooms in the valley, &c.

Now tell me, ye maidens, how could I refuse?

His words were so sweet, and so binding his vows!

We went and were married, and Jamie loves me still, And we live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale-- That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale, We live beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale.

OH, BLAW, YE WESTLIN' WINDS![27]

Oh, blaw, ye westlin' winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees!

Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale, Bring hame the laden bees; And bring the la.s.sie back to me, That 's aye sae neat and clean; Ae blink of her wad banish care, Sae lovely is my Jean.

What sighs and vows, amang the knowes, Hae pa.s.s'd atween us twa!

How fain to meet, how wae to part, That day she gaed awa'!

The Powers aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet, lovely Jean.

[27] These verses were written as a continuation to Burns's "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw." Other two stanzas were added to the same song by W. Reid.--See _postea_.

JOANNA BAILLIE.

Joanna Baillie was born on the 11th of September 1762, in the manse of Bothwell, in Lanarks.h.i.+re. Her father, Dr James Baillie, was descended from the old family of Baillie of Lamington, and was consequently ent.i.tled to claim propinquity with the distinguished Princ.i.p.al Robert Baillie, and the family of Baillie of Jerviswood, so celebrated for its Christian patriotism. The mother of Joanna likewise belonged to an honourable house: she was a descendant of the Hunters of Hunterston; and her two brothers attained a wide reputation in the world of science--Dr William Hunter being an eminent physician, and Mr John Hunter the greatest anatomist of his age. Joanna--a twin, the other child being still-born--was the youngest of a family of three children. Her only brother was Dr Matthew Baillie, highly distinguished in the medical world. Agnes, her sister, who was eldest of the family, remained unmarried, and continued to live with her under the same roof.

In the year 1768, Dr Baillie was transferred from the parochial charge of Bothwell to the office of collegiate minister of Hamilton,--a town situate, like his former parish, on the banks of the Clyde. He was subsequently elected Professor of Divinity in the University of Glasgow. After his death, which took place in 1778, his daughters both continued, along with their widowed mother, to live at Long Calderwood, in the vicinity of Hamilton, until 1784, when they all accepted an invitation to reside with Dr Matthew Baillie, who had entered on his medical career in London, and had become possessor of a house in Great Windmill Street, built by his now deceased uncle, Dr Hunter.

Though evincing no peculiar prompt.i.tude in the acquisition of learning, Joanna had, at the very outset of life, exhibited remarkable talent in rhyme-making. She composed verses before she could read, and, before she could have fancied a theatre, formed dialogues for dramatic representations, which she carried on with her companions. But she did not early seek distinction as an author. At the somewhat mature age of twenty-eight, after she had gone to London, she first published, and that anonymously, a volume of miscellaneous poems, which did not excite any particular attention. In 1798, she published, though anonymously at first, "A Series of Plays: in which it is attempted to delineate the stronger Pa.s.sions of the Mind, each Pa.s.sion being the subject of a Tragedy and a Comedy." In a lengthened preliminary dissertation, she discoursed regarding the drama in all its relations, maintaining the ascendency of simple nature over every species of adornment and decoration. "Let one simple trait of the human heart, one expression of pa.s.sion, genuine and true to nature," she wrote, "be introduced, and it will stand forth alone in the boldness of reality, whilst the false and unnatural around it fades away upon every side, like the rising exhalations of the morning." The reception of these plays was sufficient to satisfy the utmost ambition of the author, and established the foundation of her fame. "Nothing to compare with them had been produced since the great days of the English drama; and the truth, vigour, variety, and dignity of the dramatic portraits, in which they abound, might well justify an enthusiasm which a reader of the present day can scarcely be expected to feel. This enthusiasm was all the greater, when it became known that these remarkable works, which had been originally published anonymously, were from the pen of a woman still young, who had pa.s.sed her life in domestic seclusion."[28] Encouraged by the success of the first volume of her dramas on the "Pa.s.sions," the author added a second in 1802, and a third in 1812. During the interval, she published a volume of miscellaneous dramas in 1804, and produced the "Family Legend" in 1810,--a tragedy, founded upon a Highland tradition. With a prologue by Sir Walter Scott, and an epilogue by Henry Mackenzie, the "Family Legend" was produced at the Edinburgh theatre, under the auspices of the former ill.u.s.trious character; and was ably supported by Mrs Siddons, and by Terry, then at the commencement of his career. It was favourably received during ten successive performances. "You have only to imagine all that you could wish to give success to a play,"

wrote Sir Walter Scott to the author, "and your conceptions will still fall short of the complete and decided triumph of the 'Family Legend.'

The house was crowded to a most extraordinary degree; many people had come from your native capital of the west; everything that pretended to distinction, whether from rank or literature, was in the boxes; and in the pit, such an aggregate ma.s.s of humanity as I have seldom, if ever, witnessed in the same s.p.a.ce." Other two of her plays, "Count Basil" and "De Montfort," brought out in London, the latter being sustained by Kemble and Siddons, likewise received a large measure of general approbation; but a want of variety of incident prevented their retaining a position on the stage. In 1836, she produced three additional volumes of dramas; her career as a dramatic writer thus extending over the period of nearly forty years.

Subsequent to her leaving Scotland, in 1784, Joanna Baillie did not return to her native kingdom, unless on occasional visits. On the marriage of her brother to a sister of the Lord Chief-Justice Denman, in 1791, she pa.s.sed some years at Colchester; but she subsequently fixed her permanent habitation at Hampstead. Her mother died in 1806. At Hampstead, in the companions.h.i.+p of her only sister, whose virtues she has celebrated in one of her poems, and amidst the society of many of the more distinguished literary characters of the metropolis, she continued to enjoy a large amount of comfort and happiness. Her pecuniary means were sufficiently abundant, and rendered her entirely independent of the profits of her writings. Among her literary friends, one of the most valued was Sir Walter Scott, who, being introduced to her personal acquaintance on his visit to London in 1806, maintained with her an affectionate and lasting intimacy. The letters addressed to her are amongst the most interesting of his correspondence in his Memoir by his son-in-law. He evinced his estimation of her genius by frequently complimenting her in his works. In his "Epistle to William Erskine,"

which forms the introduction to the third canto of "Marmion," he thus generously eulogises his gifted friend:--

"Or, if to touch such chord be thine, Restore the ancient tragic line, And emulate the notes that wrung From the wild harp, which silent hung By silver Avon's holy sh.o.r.e, Till twice a hundred years roll'd o'er; When she, the bold Enchantress, came, With fearless hand and heart on flame!

From the pale willow s.n.a.t.c.h'd the treasure, And swept it with a kindred measure, Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, Awakening at the inspired strain, Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again."