The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Ii Part 11

When sweet Robin leaves the s.p.a.ce, Other birds will fill his place; See the t.i.t-mouse, pretty thing!

See the Sparrow's sombre wing!

Great and grand disputes arise, For the crumbs of largest size, Which the bravest and the best Bear triumphant to their nest.

What a pleasure thus to feed Hungry mouths in time of need!

For whether it be men or birds, Crumbs are better far than words.

[64] These simple stanzas, conveying such an excellent _morale_ at the close, were written, almost without premeditation, for the amus.e.m.e.nt and instruction of a little girl, the author's grandchild, who had been on a visit at the manse of Glammis. The allusion to the _board_ in the second verse refers to a little piece of timber which the amiable lady of the house had affixed on the outside of one of the windows, for holding a few crumbs which she daily spread on it for _Robin_, who regularly came to enjoy the bounty of his benefactress. This lyric, and those following, are printed for the first time.

WITHIN THE TOWERS OF ANCIENT GLAMMIS.[65]

TUNE--_"Merry in the Hall."_

Within the towers of ancient Glammis Some merry men did dine, And their host took care they should richly fare In friends.h.i.+p, wit, and wine.

But they sat too late, and mistook the gate, (For wine mounts to the brain); O, 'twas merry in the hall, when the beards wagg'd all; O, we hope they 'll be back again; We hope they 'll be back again!

Sir Walter tapp'd at the parson's door, To find the proper way, But he dropt his switch, though there was no ditch, And on the steps it lay.

So his wife took care of this nice affair, And she wiped it free from stain; For the knight was gone, nor the owner known, So he ne'er got the switch again; So he ne'er got the switch again.

This wondrous little whip[66] remains Within the lady's sight, (She crambo makes, with some mistakes, But hopes for further light).

So she ne'er will part with this switch so smart, These thirty years her ain; Till the knight appear, it must just lie here, He will ne'er get his switch again; He will ne'er get his switch again!

[65] This lively lyrical rhapsody, written in April 1821, celebrates an amusing incident connected with the visit of Sir Walter Scott to the Castle of Glammis, in 1793. Sir Walter was hospitably entertained in the Castle, by Mr Peter Proctor, the factor, in the absence of the n.o.ble owner, the Earl of Strathmore, who did not reside in the family mansion; and the conjecture may be hazarded, that he dropt his whip at the manse door on the same evening that he drank an English pint of wine from the _lion beaker_ of Glammis, the prototype of the _silver bear_ of Tully-Veolan, "the _poculum potatorium_ of the valiant baron."--(See _Note_ to Waverley, and Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter Scott).

[66] The whip is now in the custody of Mr George Lyon, of Stirling, the author's son.

MY SON GEORGE'S DEPARTURE.[67]

TUNE--_"Peggy Brown."_

The parting kiss, the soft embrace, I feel them at my heart!

'Twere joy to clasp you in those arms, But agony to part.

But let us tranquillise our minds, And hope the time may be, When I shall see that face again, So loved, so dear to me!

Five tedious years have roll'd along, And griefs have had their sway, Though many comforts fill'd my cup, Yet thou wert far away.

On pleasant days, when friends are met, Our sports are scarce begun, When I shall sigh, because I miss My George, my eldest son!

I owe my grateful thanks to Heaven, I 've seen thee well and gay, I 've heard the music of thy voice, I 've heard thee sweetly play.

O try and cheer us with your strains Ere many twelvemonths be, And let us hear that voice again, So loved, so dear to me!

[67] This lay of affection is dated September 1820, when the author received a visit from her eldest son, who was then settled as a merchant in London. Mr George Lyon, the subject of the song, and the only surviving member of the family, is now resident at Snowdoun House, Stirling.

ROBERT LOCh.o.r.e.

Robert Loch.o.r.e was descended from a branch of a Norman family of that name, long established in the neighbourhood of Biggar, and of which the representative was the House of Loch.o.r.e de Loch.o.r.e in Fifes.h.i.+re. He was born at Strathaven, in the county of Lanark, on the 7th of July 1762, and, in his thirteenth year, was apprenticed to a shoemaker in Glasgow.

He early commenced business in the city on his own account. In carrying on public improvements he ever evinced a deep interest, and he frequently held public offices of trust. He was founder of the "Annuity Society,"--an inst.i.tution attended with numerous benefits to the citizens of Glasgow.

Mr Loch.o.r.e devoted much of his time to private study. He was particularly fond of poetical composition, and wrote verses with facility, many of his letters to his intimate friends being composed in rhyme. His poetry was of the descriptive order; his lyrical effusions were comparatively rare. Several poetical tales and songs of his youth, contributed to different periodicals, he arranged, about the beginning of the century, in a small volume. The greater number of his compositions remain in MS. in the possession of his family. He died in Glasgow, on the 27th April 1852, in his ninetieth year. Of a buoyant and humorous disposition, he composed verses nearly to the close of his long life; and, latterly, found pleasure in recording, for the amus.e.m.e.nt of his family, his recollections of the past. He was universally beloved as a faithful friend, and was deeply imbued with a sense of religion.

NOW, JENNY La.s.s.

TUNE--_"Garryowen."_

Now, Jenny la.s.s, my bonnie bird, My daddy 's dead, an' a' that; He 's snugly laid aneath the yird, And I 'm his heir, an' a' that; I 'm now a laird, an' a' that; I 'm now a laird, an' a' that; His gear an' land 's at my command, And muckle mair than a' that.

He left me wi' his deein' breath, A dwallin' house, an' a' that; A burn, a byre, an' wabs o' claith-- A big peat-stack, an' a' that.

A mare, a foal, an' a' that; A mare, a foal, an' a' that; Sax guid fat kye, a cauf forby, An' twa pet ewes, an' a' that.

A yard, a meadow, lang braid leas, An' stacks o' corn, an' a' that-- Enclosed weel wi' thorns an' trees, An' carts, an' cars, an' a' that; A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that; A pleugh, an' graith, an' a' that; Guid harrows twa, c.o.c.k, hens, an' a'-- A grecie, too, an' a' that.

I 've heaps o' claes for ilka days, For Sundays, too, an' a' that; I 've bills an' bonds on lairds an' lands, And siller, gowd, an' a' that.

What think ye, la.s.s, o' a' that?

What think ye, la.s.s, o' a' that?

What want I noo, my dainty doo, But just a wife to a' that.

Now, Jenny dear, my errand here Is to seek ye to a' that; My heart 's a' loupin', while I speer Gin ye 'll tak me, wi' a' that.

Mysel', my gear, an' a' that; Mysel', my gear, an' a' that; Come, gie 's your loof to be a proof, Ye 'll be a wife to a' that.

Syne Jenny laid her neive in his-- Said, she 'd tak him wi' a' that; An' he gied her a hearty kiss, An' dauted her, an' a' that.

They set a day, an' a' that; They set a day, an' a' that; Whan she 'd gang hame to be his dame, An' haud a rant, an' a' that.

MARRIAGE, AND THE CARE O'T.

TUNE--_"Whistle o'er the lave o't."_