The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iii Part 21

Peace! creation's gloomy queen, Darkest Night, invests the scene!

Silence, Evening's handmaid mild, Leaves her home amid the wild, Tripping soft with dewy feet, Summer's flowery carpet sweet, Morpheus--drowsy power--to meet.

Ruler of the midnight hour, In thy plenitude of power, From this burthen'd bosom throw Half its leaden load of woe.

Since thy envied art supplies What reality denies, Let thy cheerless suppliant see Dreams of bliss inspired by thee-- Let before his wond'ring eyes Fancy's brightest visions rise-- Long lost happiness restore, None can need thy bounty more.

PETER BUCHAN.

The indefatigable collector of the elder national minstrelsy, Peter Buchan, was born in Peterhead in the year 1790. Of a somewhat distinguished descent, he was on the father's side remotely connected with the n.o.ble house of Buchan, and his mother was a lineal descendant of the Irvines of Drum, an old powerful family in Aberdeenshire. Though he was disposed to follow a seafaring life, and had obtained a commission in the Navy, he abandoned his early intentions at the urgent solicitation of his parents, and thereafter employed himself as a copperplate engraver, and was the inventor of an ingenious revolving press for copperplate printing. At Edinburgh and Stirling, he afterwards qualified himself for the business of a letterpress printer, and in 1816 opened a printing-office in his native town. In 1819, he compiled the "Annals of Peterhead," a duodecimo volume, which he printed at a press of his own contrivance. His next publication appeared shortly after, under the t.i.tle, "An Historical Account of the Ancient and n.o.ble Family of Keith, Earls-Marischal of Scotland."

After a period of residence in London, where he held for some time a remunerative situation, Buchan returned to his native town. In the metropolis, he had been painfully impressed by the harsh treatment frequently inflicted on the inferior animals, and as a corrective for the evil, he published at Peterhead, in 1824, a treatise, dedicated to his son, in which he endeavoured to prove that brutes are possessed of souls, and are immortal. His succeeding publication, which appeared in 1828, proved the most successful effort of his life; it was ent.i.tled, "Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, hitherto Unpublished, with Explanatory Notes," Edinburgh, two vols. 8vo. This work occupied upwards of ten years in preparation. Among his other publications may be enumerated, a volume of "Poems and Songs," printed in 1814; "The Peterhead Smugglers, an original Melodrama," published in 1834; "The Eglinton Tournament, &c.;" "Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads;"

and the "Wanderings of Prince Charles Stuart and Miss Flora Macdonald,"

the latter being published from an old MS.

At different periods Buchan resided in Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Glasgow.

For a short period he owned the small property of Buchanstone, near Dennyloanhead, Stirlingshire, which being sold, he proceeded to Ireland in 1852, where he resided for some time at Strandhill, county of Leitrim. In the early part of 1854, he went to London, with the view of effecting arrangements for the publication of another volume of "Ancient Scottish Ballads;" he was there seized with illness, of which he died on the 19th September of the same year. His remains were interred in the beautiful cemetery of Norwood, near London.

Mr Buchan was justly esteemed as a zealous and industrious collector of the elder Scottish minstrelsy. His labours received the special commendation of Sir Walter Scott, and he was a frequent guest at Abbotsford. He was also honoured with diplomas of membership from some of the leading literary societies of Scotland and England. Two unpublished volumes of his "Ballad Collections" are now in the possession of Dr Charles Mackay of London, and may at a future period be submitted to the public. His son, the Rev. Dr Charles Forbes Buchan, minister of Fordoun, is the author of several theological publications.

THOU GLOOMY FEBERWAR.[41]

Thou cauld gloomy Feberwar, Oh! gin thou wert awa'!

I 'm wae to hear thy soughin' winds, I 'm wae to see thy snaw; For my bonnie, braw, young Hielandman, The lad I lo'e sae dear, Has vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

A silken ban' he gae me, To bin' my gowden hair; A siller brooch and tartan plaid, A' for his sake to wear; And oh! my heart was like to break, (For partin' sorrow 's sair) As he vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

Aft, aft as gloamin' dims the sky, I wander out alane, Whare bud the bonnie yellow whins, Around the trystin' stane; 'Twas there he press'd me to his heart, And kiss'd awa' the tear, As he vow'd to come and see me In the spring o' the year.

Ye gentle breezes, saftly blaw, And cleed anew the wuds; Ye laverocks lilt your cheerie sangs, Amang the fleecy cluds; Till Feberwar and a' his train, Affrighted disappear, I 'll hail wi' you the blithesome change, The spring-time o' the year.

[41] The first stanza of this song is the composition of Robert Tannahill.

WILLIAM FINLAY.

William Finlay was the son of an operative shawl manufacturer in Paisley, where he was born in 1792. He received a cla.s.sical education at the Grammar-school, and was afterwards apprenticed to his father's trade. For a period of twenty years he prosecuted the labours of the loom; but finding the occupation injurious to his health, he accepted employment in the cotton mills of Duntocher. He afterwards obtained a situation in a printing-office in Paisley, where he remained during eight years. Ultimately, he was employed at Nethercraigs' bleachfield, at the base of Gleniffer braes, about two miles to the south of Paisley.

He died of fever on the 5th November 1847, leaving a family of five children.

Finlay was in the practice of contributing verses to the local prints.

In 1846, he published a duodecimo volume, ent.i.tled, "Poems, Humorous and Sentimental." His poetical characteristics are simplicity and pathos, combined with considerable power of satirical drollery. Delighting in music, and fond of society, he was occasionally led to indulge in excesses, of which, at other times, he was heartily ashamed, and which he has feelingly lamented in some of his poems. Few Scottish poets have more touchingly depicted the evils of intemperance.

THE BREAKING HEART.

I mark'd her look of agony, I heard her broken sigh, I saw the colour leave her cheek, The l.u.s.tre leave her eye; I saw the radiant ray of hope Her sadden'd soul forsaking; And, by these tokens, well I knew The maiden's heart was breaking.

It is not from the hand of Heaven Her bitter grief proceeds; 'Tis not for sins that she hath done, Her bosom inly bleeds; 'Tis not death's terrors wrap her soul In shades of dark despair, But man--deceitful man--whose hand A thorn hath planted there.

THE AULD EMIGRANT'S FAREWEEL TO SCOTLAND.

Land of my fathers! night's dark gloom Now shades thee from my view-- Land of my birth! my hearth, my home, A long, a last adieu!

Thy sparkling streams, thy plantin's green, That ring with melodie, Thy flowery vales, thy hills and dales, Again I 'll never see.

How aft have I thy heathy hills Climb'd in life's early day!

Or pierced the dark depths of thy woods To pu' the nit or slae; Or lain beneath the spreading thorn, Hid frae the sun's bright beams, While on my raptured ear was borne The music of thy streams!

And aft, when frae the schule set free, I 've join'd a merry ban', Whase hearts were loupin' licht wi' glee, Fresh as the morning's dawn, And waunert, Cruikston, by thy tower, Or through thy leafy shaw, The livelang day, nor thocht o' hame Till nicht began to fa'.

But now the buoyancy o' youth, And a' its joys are gane-- My children scatter'd far and wide, And I am left alane; For she who was my hope and stay, And soothed me when distress'd, Within the narrow house of death Has lang been laid at rest.

And puirt.i.th's cloud doth me enshroud; Sae, after a' my toil, I 'm gaun to lay my puir auld clay Within a foreign soil.

Fareweel, fareweel, auld Scotia dear!

A last fareweel to thee!

Thy tinkling rills, thy heath-clad hills, Again I 'll never see!

O'ER MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY.

O'er mountain and valley Morn gladly did gleam; The streamlets danced gaily Beneath its bright beam; The daisies were springing To life at my feet; The woodlands were ringing With melody sweet.

But the sky became low'ring, And clouds big with rain, Their treasures outpouring, Soon deluged the plain.

The late merry woodlands Grew silent and lone; And red from the muirlands The river rush'd down.

Thus life, too, is chequer'd With sunshine and gloom; Of change 'tis the record-- Now blight and now bloom.

Oft morn rises brightly, With promise to last, But long, long ere noontide The sky is o'ercast.

Yet much of the trouble 'Neath which mortals groan, They contrive to make double By whims of their own.

Oh! it makes the heart tingle With anguish to think, That our own hands oft mingle The bitters we drink.