The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume V Part 26

THE PLOUGHMAN.

Blithe be the mind of the ploughman, Unruffled by pa.s.sion or guile; And fair be the face of the woman Who blesses his love with a smile.

His clothing, though russet and homely, With royalty's robe may compare; His cottage, though simple, is comely, For peace and contentment are there.

Let monarchs exult in their splendour, When courtiers obsequiously bow; But are not their greatness and grandeur Sustain'd by the toils of the plough?

The soldier may glory discover In havock which warfare hath made; For the shout of his fame rises over The vanquish'd, the bleeding, the dead.

Though pride, in her trappings so dainty, May sneer with contemptuous air; Fertility, pleasure, and plenty, Still follow the track of the share.

And long may the heart of the ploughman In virtue and vigour beat high; His calling, though simple and common, Our wants and our comforts supply.

WILLIAM ANDERSON.

William Anderson, an accomplished biographical and genealogical writer, and author of "Landscape Lyrics," a volume of descriptive poetry, was born at Edinburgh on the 10th December 1805. His father, James Anderson, supervisor of Excise at Oban, Argyles.h.i.+re, died there in 1812. His mother was the daughter of John Williams, author of "The Mineral Kingdom," a work much valued by geologists. His brother, Mr John Anderson, surgeon, Royal Lanarks.h.i.+re Militia, was the author of the "Historical and Genealogical Memoirs of the House of Hamilton."

Mr Anderson received his education at Edinburgh, and in 1820 was apprenticed to a merchant in Leith; but not liking the employment, he was afterwards placed in the office of a writer in Edinburgh, with the view of studying the law. Having a strong bent towards literature, he began to write poetry, and in 1828 became a regular contributor to the press. In 1830 he published a volume of poems designated, "Poetical Aspirations," and soon after issued a thin volume of prose and verse, ent.i.tled, "Odd Sketches." Proceeding to London in 1831, he formed the acquaintance of Maginn, Allan Cunningham, and other eminent men of letters. Towards the close of that year he joined the _Aberdeen Journal_, and in 1835 edited for a short time the _Advertiser_, another newspaper published in that city. He returned to London in 1836, and resided there for several years, contributing to different periodicals.

His "Landscape Lyrics" appeared in 1839, in a quarto volume. In 1840 he commenced writing the lives of distinguished Scotsmen, and the result of his researches appeared in 1842, in a valuable work, ent.i.tled, "The Popular Scottish Biography." Previous to the appearance of this volume, he published at London, "The Gift for All Seasons," an annual, which contained contributions from Campbell, Sheridan Knowles, the Countess of Blessington, Miss Pardoe, and other writers of reputation. In 1842 he returned to Scotland, to edit _The Western Watchman_, a weekly journal published at Ayr. In 1844 he became connected with the _Witness_ newspaper; but in the following year removed to Glasgow, to a.s.sist in the establishment of the first Scottish daily newspaper. With that journal, the _Daily Mail_, he continued two years, till severe nocturnal labour much affecting his health, obliged him temporarily to abandon literary pursuits. He has been a contributor to _Tait's Magazine_, and was intrusted with the literary superintendence of Major De Renzy's "Poetical Ill.u.s.trations and Achievements of the Duke of Wellington," a work to which he contributed several poems. He has edited Lord Byron's works, in two octavo volumes, with numerous notes, and a copious Memoir of the poet. Besides a number of smaller works, he is the editor of five volumes, forming a series, ent.i.tled, "Treasury of Discovery, Enterprise, and Adventure;" "Treasury of the Animal World;" "Treasury of Ceremonies, Manners, and Customs;" "Treasury of Nature, Science, and Art;" and "Treasury of History and Biography." "The Young Voyager," a poem descriptive of the search after Franklin, with ill.u.s.trations, intended for children, appeared in 1855. He contributed the greater number of the biographical notices of Scotsmen inserted in "The Men of the Time" for 1856. A large and important national work, devoted to the biography, history, and antiquities of Scotland, has engaged his attention for some years, and is in a forward state for publication.

As a writer of verses, Mr Anderson is possessed of considerable power of fancy, and a correct taste. His song, beginning "I'm naebody noo," has been translated into the German language.

WOODLAND SONG.

Will you go to the woodlands with me, with me, Will you go to the woodlands with me-- When the sun 's on the hill, and all nature is still, Save the sound of the far das.h.i.+ng sea?

For I love to lie lone on the hill, on the hill, I love to lie lone on the hill, When earth, sea, and sky, in loveliness vie, And all nature around me is still.

Then my fancy is ever awake, awake, My fancy is never asleep; Like a bird on the wing, like a swan on the lake, Like a s.h.i.+p far away on the deep.

And I love 'neath the green boughs to lie, to lie; I love 'neath the green boughs to lie; And see far above, like the smiling of love, A glimpse now and then of the sky.

When the hum of the forest I hear, I hear, When the hum of the forest I hear,-- 'Tis solitude's prayer, pure devotion is there, And its breathings I ever revere.

I kneel myself down on the sod, the sod, I kneel myself down on the sod, 'Mong the flowers and wild heath, and an orison breathe In lowliness up to my G.o.d.

Then peace doth descend on my mind, my mind, Then peace doth descend on my mind; And I gain greater scope to my spirit and hope, For both then become more refined.

Oh! whatever my fate chance to be, to be, My spirit shall never repine, If a stroll on the hill, if a glimpse of the sea, If the hum of the forest be mine.

THE WELLS O' WEARY.

Down in the valley lone, Far in the wild wood, Bubble forth springs, each one Weeping like childhood; Bright on their rushy banks, Like joys among sadness, Little flowers bloom in ranks-- Glimpses of gladness.

Sweet 'tis to wander forth, Like pilgrims at even; Lifting our souls from earth To fix them on Heaven; Then in our transport deep, This world forsaking: Sleeping as angels sleep, Mortals awaking!

I 'M NAEBODY NOO.

I 'm naebody noo; though in days that are gane, When I 'd hooses, and lands, and gear o' my ain, Ther war' mony to flatter, and mony to praise-- And wha but mysel' was sae prood in those days!

Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang, Wha laugh'd at my joke, and applauded my sang, Though the tane had nae point, and the t.i.ther nae glee; But, of coorse, they war' grand when comin' frae me!

Whan I 'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack, Ther war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak'; But whanever the water grew scant at the well, I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'!

Whan I 'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer; And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer; I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast, In the feasting o' those who came only to feast.

The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie, I thoucht a' the time was intended for me; But whanever the end o' my money they saw, Their friends.h.i.+p, like it, also flicker'd awa'.

My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near, Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear; I 'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that 's true, But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I 'm naebody noo.

I CANNA SLEEP.

I canna sleep a wink, la.s.sie, When I gang to bed at night, But still o' thee I think, la.s.sie, Till morning sheds its light.

I lie an' think o' thee, la.s.sie, And I toss frae side to side, Like a vessel on the sea, la.s.sie, When stormy is the tide.

My heart is no my ain, la.s.sie, It winna bide wi' me; Like a birdie it has gane, la.s.sie, To nestle saft wi' thee.

I canna lure it back, la.s.sie, Sae keep it to yoursel'; But oh! it sune will break, la.s.sie, If you dinna use it well.

Where the treasure is, they say, la.s.sie, The spirit lingers there; An' mine has fled away, la.s.sie-- You needna ask me where.

I marvel oft if rest, la.s.sie, On my eyes and heart would bide, If I thy troth possess'd, la.s.sie, And thou wert at my side.