The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iii Part 15

Come awa', come awa', I ken your heart is mine, la.s.sie, And true love shall make up for a'

For whilk ye might repine, la.s.sie!

Your father he has gi'en consent, Your step-dame looks na kind, la.s.sie; O that our feet were on the bent, An' the lowlands far behind, la.s.sie!

Come awa', come awa', Ye 'll ne'er hae cause to rue, la.s.sie; My cot blinks blithe beneath the shaw, By bonnie Avondhu, la.s.sie!

There 's birk and slae on ilka brae, And brackens waving fair, la.s.sie, And gleaming lochs and mountains gray-- Can aught wi' them compare, la.s.sie?

Come awa', come awa', &c.

DEAREST LOVE, BELIEVE ME!

Dearest love, believe me, Though all else depart, Nought shall e'er deceive thee In this faithful heart.

Beauty may be blighted-- Youth must pa.s.s away; But the vows we plighted Ne'er shall know decay.

Tempests may a.s.sail us From affliction's coast, Fortune's breeze may fail us When we need it most; Fairest hopes may perish, Firmest friends may change, But the love we cherish Nothing shall estrange.

Dreams of fame and grandeur End in bitter tears; Love grows only fonder With the lapse of years; Time, and change, and trouble, Weaker ties unbind, But the bands redouble True affection twined.

WILLIAM KNOX.

William Knox, a short-lived poet of considerable merit, was born at Firth, in the parish of Lilliesleaf, Roxburghshire, on the 17th August 1789. His father, Thomas Knox, espoused Barbara Turnbull, the widow of a country gentleman, Mr Pott of Todrig, in Selkirkshire; and of this marriage, William was the eldest son. He was educated at the parish school of Lilliesleaf, and, subsequently, at the grammar school of Musselburgh. In 1812, he became lessee of the farm of Wrae, near Langholm, Dumfriesshire; but his habits were not those of a thriving farmer, and, at the expiry of five years, he was led to abandon his lease. His parents had, meanwhile, removed to the farm of Todrig, and he returned thither to the shelter of the parental roof. In 1820, the family, who had fallen into straitened circ.u.mstances, proceeded to Edinburgh, where they opened a lodging-house. William now devoted his attention to literature, contributing extensively to the public journals. From his youth he had composed verses. In 1818, he published "The Lonely Hearth, and other Poems," 12mo; in 1824, "The Songs of Israel," 12mo; and in April 1825, a third duodecimo volume of lyrics, ent.i.tled "The Harp of Zion." His poetical merits attracted the notice of Sir Walter Scott, who afforded him kindly countenance and occasional pecuniary a.s.sistance. He likewise enjoyed the friendly encouragement of Professor Wilson, and other men of letters.

Of amiable and benevolent dispositions, Knox fell a victim to the undue gratification of his social propensities; he was seized with paralysis, and died at Edinburgh on the 12th of November 1825, at the early age of thirty-six. His poetry, always smooth and harmonious, is largely pervaded with pathetic and religious sentiment. Some of his Scriptural paraphrases are exquisite specimens of sacred verse. A new edition of his poetical works was published at London, in 1847. Besides his poetical works, he published "A Visit to Dublin," and a Christmas tale ent.i.tled "Marianne, or the Widower's Daughter." He left several compositions in prose and verse, but these have not been published by his executors.

Knox was short in stature, but handsomely formed; his complexion was fair, and his hair of a light colour. Subject to a variation of spirits in private, he was generally cheerful in society. He sang or repeated his own songs with much enthusiasm, and was keenly alive to his literary reputation. Possessing a fund of humour, he excelled in relating curious anecdotes.

THE DEAR LAND OF CAKES.

O brave Caledonians! my brothers, my friends, Now sorrow is borne on the wings of the winds; Care sleeps with the sun in the seas of the west, And courage is lull'd in the warrior's breast.

Here social pleasure enlivens each heart, And friendship is ready its warmth to impart; The goblet is fill'd, and each worn one partakes, To drink plenty and peace to the dear land of cakes.

Though the Bourbon may boast of his vine-cover'd hills, Through each bosom the tide of depravity thrills; Though the Indian may sit in his green orange bowers, There slavery's wail counts the wearisome hours.

Though our island is beat by the storms of the north, There blaze the bright meteors of valour and worth; There the loveliest rose-bud of beauty awakes From that cradle of virtue, the dear land of cakes.

O valour! thou guardian of freedom and truth, Thou stay of old age, and thou guidance of youth!

Still, still thy enthusiast transports pervade The breast that is wrapt in the green tartan plaid.

And ours are the shoulders that never shall bend To the rod of a tyrant, that scourge of a land; Ours the bosoms no terror of death ever shakes, When call'd in defence of the dear land of cakes.

Shall the ghosts of our fathers, aloft on each cloud, When the rage of the battle is dreadful and loud, See us shrink from our standard with fear and dismay, And leave to our foemen the pride of the day?

No, by heavens we will stand to our honour and trust!

Till our heart's blood be shed on our ancestors' dust, Till we sink to the slumber no war-trumpet breaks, Beneath the brown heath of the dear land of cakes.

O, peace to the ashes of those that have bled For the land where the proud thistle raises its head!

O, peace to the ashes of those gave us birth, In a land freedom renders the boast of the earth!

Though their lives are extinguish'd, their spirit remains, And swells in their blood that still runs in our veins; Still their deathless achievements our ardour awakes, For the honour and weal of the dear land of cakes.

Ye sons of old Scotia, ye friends of my heart, From our word, from our trust, let us never depart; Nor e'er from our foe till with victory crown'd, And the balm of compa.s.sion is pour'd in his wound; And still to our bosom be honesty dear, And still to our loves and our friendships sincere; And, till heaven's last thunder the firmament shakes, May happiness beam on the dear land of cakes.

THE LAMENT.

She was mine when the leaves of the forest were green, When the rose-blossoms hung on the tree; And dear, dear to me were the joys that had been, And I dreamt of enjoyments to be.

But she faded more fast than the blossoms could fade, No human attention could save; And when the green leaves of the forest decay'd, The winds strew'd them over her grave.

TO MARY.

Farewell! and though my steps depart From scenes for ever dear, O Mary! I must leave my heart And all my pleasures here; And I must cherish in my mind, Where'er my lot shall be, A thought of her I leave behind-- A hopeless thought of thee.

O Mary! I can ne'er forget The charm thy presence brought; No hour has pa.s.s'd since first we met, But thou hast shared my thought.

At early morn, at sultry noon, Beneath the spreading tree, And, wandering by the evening moon, Still, still I think of thee.

Yea, thou hast come to cheer my dream, And bid me grieve no more, But at the morn's returning gleam, I sorrow'd as before; Yet thou shalt still partake my care, And when I bend the knee, And pour to Heaven a fervent prayer, I will remember thee.

Farewell! and when my steps depart, Though many a grief be mine, And though I may conceal my own, I 'll weep to hear of thine.

Though from thy memory soon depart Each little trace of me, 'Tis only in the grave this heart Can cease to think of thee.

WILLIAM THOM.

William Thom, commonly styled "The Inverury Poet," was born at Aberdeen in 1789. His father, who was a shopkeeper, dying during his infancy, he was placed by his mother at a school taught by a female, from whom he received the greater amount of his juvenile education. At the age of ten, he was put to a cotton-factory, where he served an apprenticeship of four years. He was subsequently employed, during a period of nearly twenty years, in the large weaving-factory of Gordon, Barron, & Co. In 1827, he removed to Dundee; and shortly after to the village of Newtyle, in Strathmore, at both of these places working as a hand-loom weaver.

Thrown out of employment, in consequence of a stagnation in the manufacturing world, he was subjected, in his person and family, to much penury and suffering. At length, disposing of his articles of household furniture, he purchased a few wares, and taking his wife and children along with him, commenced the precarious life of a pedlar. In his published "Recollections," he has supplied a heart-rending narrative of the privations attendant on his career as a wanderer; his lodgings were frequently in the farmer's barn, and, on one of these occasions, one of his children perished from cold and starvation. The contents of his pack becoming exhausted, he derived the means of subsistence by playing on the flute, and disposing of copies of verses. After wandering over a wide district as a pedlar, flute-player, and itinerant poet, he resumed his original occupation of weaving in Kinross. He subsequently sought employment as a weaver in Aberdeen, where he remained about a year. In 1840 he proceeded to Inverury; and it was while he was resident in this place that his beautiful stanzas, ent.i.tled "The Blind Boy's Pranks,"

appeared in the columns of the _Aberdeen Herald_ newspaper. These verses were copied into many of the public journals: they particularly arrested the attention of Mr Gordon of Knockespock, a landed proprietor in Aberdeenshire, who, ascertaining the indigent circ.u.mstances of the author, transmitted to him a handsome donation, and desired to form his personal acquaintance. The poet afterwards accompanied Mr Gordon to London, who introduced him as a man of genius to the fashionable and literary circles of the metropolis. In 1844 he published a small volume of poems and songs, with a brief autobiography, under the t.i.tle of "Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-loom Weaver." This volume was well received; and on a second visit to London, Thom was entertained at a public dinner by many distinguished literary persons of the metropolis.

From admirers, both in India and America, he received pecuniary acknowledgments of his genius. He now attempted to establish himself in London in connexion with the press, but without success. Returning to Scotland, he took up his abode in Dundee; where, after a period of distress and penury, he breathed his last on the 29th February 1848, in his 59th year. His remains were interred in the public cemetery of the town; and it is pleasing to add, that an enthusiastic admirer of his genius has planted flowers upon his grave. Though long in publishing, Thom early wrote verses; in Gordon, Barron, & Co.'s factory in Aberdeen, his fellow-workmen were astonished and interested by the power and vigour of his poems. That he did not publish sooner, is probably attributable to his lengthened career of poverty, and his carelessness regarding intellectual honours.

In respect of pure and simple pathos, some of his lyrics are unequalled among the compositions of any of the national bards. Than "The Mitherless Bairn," it may be questioned whether there is to be found in the language any lyrical composition more delicately plaintive. It is lamentable to think that one who could write so tenderly should, by a dissolute life, have been the author of many of his own misfortunes, and a constant barrier to every attempt for his permanent elevation in the social circle. In person, he was rather below the middle stature; his countenance was thoughtful, but marked with the effects of bodily suffering. Owing to a club-foot, his gait was singularly awkward. He excelled in conversation, and his manner was pleasing and conciliatory.