The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Ii Part 37

Swelling with a smother'd sigh, Rose the snowy bosom high Of the blue-eyed la.s.sie.

Fleeter than the streamers fly, When they flit athwart the sky, Went and came the rosy dye On the cheeks of Jessie.

Longer wi' sic grief oppress'd Jamie couldna sae distress'd See the blue-eyed la.s.sie.

Fast he clasp'd her to his breast, Told her a' his dangers past, Vow'd that he would wed at last Bonnie, blooming Jessie.

OLD SCOTIA.

I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, Till the heart that now beats in my bosom is still.

My forefathers loved thee, for often they drew Their dirks in defence of thy banners of blue; Though murky thy glens, where the wolf prowl'd of yore, And craggy thy mountains, where cataracts roar, The race of old Albyn, when danger was nigh, For thee stood resolved still to conquer or die.

I love yet to roam where the beacon-light rose, Where echoed thy slogan, or gather'd thy foes, Whilst forth rush'd thy heroic sons to the fight, Opposing the stranger who came in his might.

I love through thy time-fretted castles to stray, The mould'ring halls of thy chiefs to survey; To grope through the keep, and the turret explore, Where waved the blue flag when the battle was o'er.

I love yet to roam o'er each field of thy fame, Where valour has gain'd thee a glorious name; I love where the cairn or the cromlach is made, To ponder, for low there the mighty are laid.

Were these fall'n heroes to rise from their graves, They might deem us dastards, they might deem us slaves; But let a foe face thee, raise fire on each hill, Thy sons, my dear Scotia, will fight for thee still!

ROBERT JAMIESON.

An intelligent antiquary, an elegant scholar, and a respectable writer of verses, Robert Jamieson was born in Morayshire about the year 1780.

At an early age he became cla.s.sical a.s.sistant in the school of Macclesfield in Cheshire. About the year 1800 he proceeded to the sh.o.r.es of the Baltic, to occupy an appointment in the Academy of Riga. Prior to his departure, he had formed the scheme of publishing a collection of ballads recovered from tradition, and on his return to Scotland he resumed his plan with the ardour of an enthusiast. In 1806 he published, in two octavo volumes, "Popular Ballads and Songs, from Tradition, Ma.n.u.scripts, and Scarce Editions; with Translations of Similar Pieces from the Ancient Danish Language, and a few Originals by the Editor." In the preparation of this work, he acknowledges his obligations to Dr Jamieson, author of the "History of the Culdees," Dr Robert Anderson, editor of the "British Poets," Dr John Leyden, and some others. On the recommendation of Sir Walter Scott he was received into the General Register House, as a.s.sistant to the Deputy-Clerk-Register, in the publication of the public records. He held this office till 1836, during a period of thirty years. Subsequently he resided at Newhaven, near Edinburgh, and ultimately in London, where he died on the 24th of September 1844. Familiar with the northern languages, he edited, conjointly with Sir Walter Scott and Henry Weber, a learned work, ent.i.tled "Ill.u.s.trations of Northern Antiquities from the Earlier Teutonic and Scandinavian Romances." Edinburgh, 1814, quarto. In 1818 he published, with some contributions from Scott, a new edition of Burt's "Letters from the North of Scotland."

Mr Jamieson was of the middle size, of muscular form, and of strongly-marked features. As a literary antiquary, he was held in high estimation by the men of learning in the capital. As a poet he composed several songs in early life, which are worthy of a place among the modern minstrelsy of his country.

MY WIFE 'S A WINSOME WEE THING.

TUNE--_"My Wife 's a wanton wee Thing."_

My wife 's a winsome wee thing, A bonnie, blythesome wee thing, My dear, my constant wee thing, And evermair sall be; It warms my heart to view her, I canna choose but lo'e her, And oh! weel may I trow her How dearly she lo'es me!

For though her face sae fair be, As nane could ever mair be; And though her wit sae rare be, As seenil do we see; Her beauty ne'er had gain'd me, Her wit had ne'er enchain'd me, Nor baith sae lang retain'd me, But for her love to me.

When wealth and pride disown'd me, A' views were dark around me, And sad and laigh she found me, As friendless worth could be; When ither hope gaed frae me, Her pity kind did stay me, And love for love she ga'e me; And that 's the love for me.

And, till this heart is cald, I That charm of life will hald by; And, though my wife grow auld, my Leal love aye young will be; For she 's my winsome wee thing, My canty, blythesome wee thing, My tender, constant wee thing, And evermair sall be.

GO TO HIM, THEN, IF THOU CAN'ST GO.

Go to him, then, if thou can'st go, Waste not a thought on me; My heart and mind are a' my store, And they were dear to thee.

But there is music in his gold (I ne'er sae sweet could sing), That finds a chord in every breast In unison to ring.

The modest virtues dread the spell, The honest loves retire, The purer sympathies of soul Far other charms require.

The breathings of my plaintive reed Sink dying in despair, The still small voice of grat.i.tude, Even that is heard nae mair.

But, if thy heart can suffer thee, The powerful call obey, And mount the splendid bed that wealth And pride for thee display.

Then gaily bid farewell to a'

Love's trembling hopes and fears, While I my lanely pillow here Wash with unceasing tears.

Yet, in the fremmit arms of him That half thy worth ne'er knew, Oh! think na on my lang-tried love, How tender and how true!

For sure 'twould break thy gentle heart My breaking heart to see, Wi' a' the wrangs and waes it 's tholed, And yet maun thole for thee.

WALTER WATSON.

Walter Watson was the son of a handloom weaver in the village of Chryston, in the parish of Calder, and county of Lanark, where he was born, on the 29th March 1780. Having a family of other two sons and four daughters, his parents could only afford to send him two years to school; when at the age of eight, he was engaged as a cow-herd. During the winter months he still continued to receive instructions from the village schoolmaster. At the age of eleven his father apprenticed him to a weaver; but he had contracted a love for the fields, and after a few years at the loom he hired himself as a farm-servant. In the hope of improving his circ.u.mstances, he proceeded to Glasgow, where he was employed as a sawyer. He now enlisted in the Scots Greys; but after a service of only three years, he was discharged, in June 1802, on the reduction of the army, subsequent to the peace of Amiens. At Chryston he resumed his earliest occupation, and, having married, resolved to employ himself for life at the loom. His spare hours were dedicated to the muse, and his compositions were submitted to criticism at the social meetings of his friends. Encouraged by their approval, he published in 1808 a small volume of poems and songs, which, well received, gained him considerable reputation as a versifier. Some of the songs at once became popular. In 1820 he removed from Chryston, and accepted employment as a sawyer in the villages of Banton and Arnbrae, in Kilsyth; in 1826 he proceeded to Kirkintilloch, where he resumed the labours of the loom; in 1830 he changed his abode to Craigdarroch, in the parish of Calder, from which, in other five years, he removed to Lennoxtown of Campsie, where he and several of his family were employed in an extensive printwork. To Craigdarroch he returned at the end of two years; in other seven years he made a further change to Auchinairn which, in 1849, he left for Duntiblae, in Kirkintilloch. He died at the latter place on the 13th September 1854, in his seventy-fifth year. His remains were interred at Chryston, within a few yards of the house in which he was born. His widow, the "Maggie" of his songs, still survives, with only four of their ten children.

Besides the volume already mentioned, Watson published a small collection of miscellaneous poems in 1823, and a third volume in 1843. A selection of his best pieces was published during the year previous to his death, under the superintendence of several friends in Glasgow, with a biographical preface by Mr Hugh Macdonald. The proceeds of this volume, which was published by subscription, tended to the comfort of the last months of the poet's life. On two different occasions during his advanced years, he received public entertainments, and was presented with substantial tokens of esteem. Of amiable dispositions, modest demeanour, and industrious habits, he was beloved by all to whom he was known. His poems generally abound in genuine Scottish humour, but his reputation will rest upon a few of his songs, which have deservedly obtained a place in the affections of his countrymen.

MY JOCKIE 'S FAR AWA'.

Now simmer decks the fields wi' flowers, The woods wi' leaves so green, An' little burds around their bowers In harmony convene; The cuckoo flees frae tree to tree, While saft the zephyrs blaw, But what are a' thae joys to me, When Jockie 's far awa'?

When Jockie 's far awa' on sea, When Jockie 's far awa'; But what are a' thae joys to me, When Jockie 's far awa'?

Last May mornin', how sweet to see The little lambkins play, Whilst my dear lad, alang wi' me, Did kindly walk this way!

On yon green bank wild flowers he pou'd, To busk my bosom braw; Sweet, sweet he talk'd, and aft he vow'd, But now he 's far awa'.

But now, &c.

O gentle peace, return again, Bring Jockie to my arms, Frae dangers on the raging main, An' cruel war's alarms; Gin e'er we meet, nae mair we 'll part While we hae breath to draw; Nor will I sing, wi' aching heart, My Jockie 's far awa'; My Jockie 's far awa,' &c.

MAGGIE AN' ME.

AIR--_"The Banks o' the Dee."_