The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Vi Part 5

Archibald Crawford, a writer of prose and poetry of considerable merit, was born at Ayr in 1785. In his ninth year, left an orphan, he was placed under the care of a brother-in-law, a baker in London. With no greater advantages than the somewhat limited school education then given to the sons of burgesses of small provincial towns, his ardent love of literature and powerful memory enabled him to become conversant with the works of the more distinguished British authors, as well as the best translations of the cla.s.sics. At the expiry of eight years he returned to Ayr, and soon after entered the employment of Charles Hay, Esq., of Edinburgh, in whose service he continued during a course of years. In honour of a daughter of this gentleman, who had shewn him much kindness during a severe attack of fever, he composed his song of "Bonnie Mary Hay," which, subsequently set to music by R. A. Smith, has become extremely popular. He was afterwards in the employment of General Hay of Rannes, with whom he remained several years. At the close of that period he was offered by his employer an ensigncy in the service of the Honourable East India Company, which, however, he respectfully declined.

In 1810 he opened a grocery establishment in his native town; but, with less apt.i.tude for business than literature, he lost the greater part of the capital he had embarked in trade. He afterwards exchanged this business for that of auctioneer and general merchant.

The literary inclinations of his youth had been a.s.siduously followed up, and his employers, sympathising with his tastes, gave him every opportunity, by the use of their libraries, of indulging his favourite studies. With the exception of some fugitive pieces, he did not however seek distinction as an author till 1819, when a satirical poem, ent.i.tled "St James's in an uproar," appeared anonymously from his pen. This composition intended to support the extreme political opinions then in vogue, exposed to ridicule some leading persons in the district, and was attended with the temporary apprehension and menaced prosecution of the printer. To the columns of the _Ayr and Wigtons.h.i.+re Courier_ he now began to contribute a series of sketches, founded on traditions in the West of Scotland; and these, in 1824, he collected into a volume, with the t.i.tle, "Tales of a Grandmother," which was published by subscription. In the following year the tales, with some additions, were published, in two duodecimo volumes, by Constable and Co.; but the subsequent insolvency of the publis.h.i.+ng firm deprived the author of the profits of the sale. Crawford, along with two literary coadjutors, next started a weekly serial at Ayr, ent.i.tled _The Correspondent_, but the publication, in the course of a few months, was abandoned. A similar periodical, under the designation of _The Gaberlunzie_, appeared under his management in 1827, and extended to sixteen numbers. He latterly contributed articles in prose and verse to the _Ayr Advertiser_, a weekly newspaper published in that town. His death took place at Ayr on the 6th January 1843, in his 58th year. Much esteemed for his hearty, social nature, with a ready and pungent wit, and much dramatic power as a relater of legendary narrative, he was possessed of strong intellectual capacities, and considerable taste as a poet. His second son, Mr William Crawford, has attained distinction as an artist.

BONNIE MARY HAY.

Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet, For thy eye is the slae, thy hair is the jet; The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek; O! bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet.

Bonnie Mary Hay, will you gang wi' me, When the sun 's in the west, to the hawthorn-tree; To the hawthorn-tree, in the bonnie berry-den, And I 'll tell you, Mary, how I lo'e you then?

Bonnie Mary Hay, it 's haliday to me, When thou art couthie, kind, and free; There 's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky, My bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh.

Bonnie Mary Hay, thou maunna say me nay, But come to the bower, by the hawthorn brae; But come to the bower, and I 'll tell you a' what 's true, How, Mary, I can ne'er lo'e ane but you.

SCOTLAND, I HAVE NO HOME BUT THEE!

Scotland, thy mountains, thy valleys, and fountains, Are famous in story--the birth-place of song; Thy daughters the fairest, the sweetest, the rarest, Well may thy pilgrims long for their home.

Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer sh.o.r.e, The grave of my fathers! the land of the free!

Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace; Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee!

Glow on, ye southern skies, where fruits wear richer dyes To pamper the bigot, a.s.sa.s.sin, and slave; Scotland, to thee I 'll twine, with all thy varied clime, For the fruits that thou bearest are true hearts and brave.

Trace the whole world o'er, find me a fairer sh.o.r.e, The grave of my fathers! the land of the free!

Joy to the rising race! Heaven send them ev'ry grace; Scotland, dear Scotland, I have no home but thee!

GEORGE DONALD.

George Donald was born at Glasgow on the 19th January 1800. His parents being in circ.u.mstances of indigence, he was sent to labour in a factory so early as his eighth year. A limited attendance at school he supplemented by devoting his intervals of toil to self-instruction. He began to contribute verses to the public journals in his eighteenth year, and soon after composed a series of poems, ent.i.tled "Lays of the Covenanters," which appeared in one of the Glasgow newspapers. Of extreme political opinions, he upheld his peculiar views in a series of satirical compositions both in prose and verse, which, by leading dissolute persons to seek his society, proved the commencement of a most unfortunate career. Habits of irregularity were contracted; he ceased to engage in the duties of his calling: and leaving his wife and family of young children without any means of support, he became a reckless wanderer. He afterwards emigrated to the United States, but at the expiry of sixteen months re-appeared in Glasgow. He now became steady; and joining the Total Abstinence Society, advocated the cause of sobriety in a number of temperance songs. Renouncing his pledge, he soon returned to his former habits. He proceeded to Ireland, where he supported himself as a public reciter of popular Scottish ballads. He contributed to the _Banner of Ulster_ a narrative of his experiences in America; and published at Belfast, in a separate volume, his "Lays of the Covenanters," two abridged editions of which were subsequently printed and circulated in Glasgow. Returning to his native city, he was fortunate in receiving the kindly patronage of Dr John Smith of the _Examiner_ newspaper, who paid him a stipulated salary as a contributor.

After a period of illness, his death took place at the village of Thornliebank, near Glasgow, on the 7th December 1851. In "The Songs for the Nursery," an interesting little work published by Mr David Robertson of Glasgow in 1846, ten pieces are from his pen. A poem which he composed in his latter years ent.i.tled "The Progress of Society, in five books," is still in MS. Amidst all his failings Donald maintained a sense of religion. Evincing a sincere regret for the errors of his life, he died in Christian hope.

THE SPRING TIME O' LIFE.

AIR--_"O wat ye wha I met yestreen?"_

The summer comes wi' rosy wreaths, And spreads the mead wi' fragrant flowers, While furthy autumn plenty breathes, And blessings in abundance showers.

E'en winter, wi' its frost and snaw, Brings meikle still the heart to cheer, But there's a season worth them a', And that's the spring-time o' the year.

In spring the farmer ploughs the field That yet will wave wi' yellow corn, In spring the birdie bigs its bield In foggy bank or budding thorn; The burn and brae, the hill and dell, A song of hope are heard to sing, And summer, autumn, winter, tell, Wi' joy or grief, the work o' spring.

Now, youth 's the spring-time o' your life, When seed is sown wi' care and toil, And hopes are high, and fears are rife, Lest weeds should rise the braird to spoil.

I 've sown the seed, my bairnies dear, By precept and example baith, And may the hand that guides us here Preserve it frae the spoiler's skaith!

But soon the time may come when you Shall miss a mother's tender care, A sinfu' world to wander through, Wi' a' its stormy strife to share; Then mind my words, whare'er ye gang, Let fortune smile or thrawart be, Ne'er let the tempter lead ye wrang-- If sae ye live, ye'll happy dee.

THE SCARLET ROSE-BUSH.

AIR--_"There grows a bonnie brier bush."_

Come see my scarlet rose-bush My father gied to me, That's growing in our window-sill Sae fresh and bonnilie; I wadna gie my rose-bush For a' the flowers I see, Nor for a pouchfu' o' red gowd, Sae dear it is to me.

I set it in the best o' mould Ta'en frae the moudie's hill, And covered a' the yird wi' moss I gather'd on the hill; I saw the blue-bell blooming, And the gowan wat wi' dew, But my heart was on my rose-bush set, I left them where they grew.

I water 't ilka morning Wi' meikle pride and care, And no a wither'd leaf I leave Upon its branches fair; Twa sprouts are rising frae the root, And four are on the stem, Three rosebuds and six roses blawn-- 'Tis just a perfect gem!

Come, see my bonnie, blooming bush My father gied to me, Wi' roses to the very top, And branches like a tree.

It grows upon our window-sill, I watch it tentilie; O! I wadna gie my dear rose-bush For a' the flowers I see.

HENRY GLa.s.sFORD BELL.

Henry Gla.s.sford Bell is the son of James Bell, Esq., advocate. His mother was the daughter of the Rev. John Hamilton, minister of Cathcart.

He was born at Glasgow, but his early life was spent chiefly in Edinburgh, whither his parents removed in his sixth year. Having studied at the University of Edinburgh, he pa.s.sed advocate in 1832. Prior to his commencing the study of law, he much devoted himself to literary pursuits. In 1828 he published, in "Constable's Miscellany," a "Life of Mary, Queen of Scots," in two volumes, of which work several editions have since appeared. About the same time he established the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_, which he conducted for several years with much acceptance to the public. His other publications are, "My Old Portfolio," a volume of miscellaneous prose and verse, and "Summer and Winter Hours," a volume of lyric poems and songs. Both these works are out of print. Mr Bell has contributed to the princ.i.p.al periodicals, and a.s.sociated with the leading literary men of his time. Since 1839 he has resided in Glasgow, holding the appointment of a Sheriff-subst.i.tute of Lanarks.h.i.+re.

MY LIFE IS ONE LONG THOUGHT OF THEE.

Say wilt thou, Leila, when alone, Remember days of bliss gone by?

Wilt thou, beside thy native Rhone, E'er for our distant streamlets sigh?

Beneath thy own glad sun and sky, Ah! Leila, wilt thou think of me?

She blush'd, and murmur'd in reply, "My life is one long thought of thee."

Sweet girl! I would not have it so; My destiny must not be thine, For wildly as the wild waves flow, Will pa.s.s this fleeting life of mine.