Menie. Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steeped in morning dews. In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me the violets spring; In vain to me, in glen or shaw, The mavis and the lintwhite sing. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks; But life to me's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, The stately swan majestic swims, And everything is blessed but I. The shepherd steeks his faulding slap, And owre the moorland whistles shrill; Wi' wild, unequal, wandering step, I meet him on the dewy hill. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Ae Fond Kiss. ['These exquisitely affecting stanzas contain the essence of a thousand love tales.'-Scott.] Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, A service to my bonnie lassie; Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry; And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's not the roar o' sea or shore ['One of my juvenile works.'-Burns. Of all the productions of Burns, the pathetic and serious love songs which he has left behind him in the manner of old ballads, are perhaps those which take the deepest and most lasting hold of the mind. Such are the lines of Mary Morison, &c.'-Hazlitt.] Oh Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! I sat, but neither heard nor saw. Oh Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to victory! Now's the day, and now's the hour; Wha will be a traitor knave ? By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! ALEXANDER WILSON. ALEXANDER WILSON, a distinguished naturalist. was also a good Scottish poet. He was a native of Paisley, and born July 6, 1766. He was brought up to the trade of a weaver, but afterwards preferred that of a pedlar, selling muslin and other wares. In 1789 he added to his other commodities a prospectus of a volume of poems, trusting, as he said, If the pedlar should fail to be favoured with sale, Then I hope you'll encourage the poet. He did not succeed in either character; and after publishing his poems he returned to the loom. In 1792 he issued anonymously his best poem, Watty and Meg, which was at first attributed to Burns. A foolish personal satire, and a not very wise admiration of the principles of equality disseminated at the time of the French Revolution, drove Wilson to America in the year 1794. There he was once more a weaver and a pedlar, and afterwards a schoolmaster. A love of ornithology gained upon him, and he wandered over America, collecting specimens of birds. In 1808 appeared his first volume of the American Ornithology, and he continued collecting and publishing, traversing swamps and forests in quest of rare birds, and undergoing the greatest privations and fatigues, till he had committed an eighth volume to the press. He sank under his severe labours on the 23d of August 1813, and was interred with public honours at Philadelphia. In the Ornithology of Wilson we see the fancy and descriptive powers of the poet. The following extract is part of his account of the bald eagle, and is extremely vivid and striking : of wing, and sudden suspension in air, he knows him to be the fish-hawk, settling over some devoted victim of the deep. His eye kindles at the sight, and balancing himself with half-opened wings on the branch, he watches the result. Down, rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the eager looks of the eagle are all ardour; and, levelling his neck for flight, he sees the fish-hawk once more emerge, struggling with his prey, and mounting in the air with screams of exultation. These are the signal for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and soon gains on the fish-hawk; each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying in these rencontres the most elegant and sublime aerial evolutions. The unencumbered eagle rapidly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden scream, probably of despair and honest execration, the latter drops his fish: the eagle, poising himself for a moment, as if to take a more certain aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in his grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten booty silently away to the woods.' By way of preface, 'to invoke the clemency of the reader,' Wilson relates the following exquisite trait of simplicity and nature: "The celebrated cataract of Niagara is a noted place of resort for the bald eagle, as well on account of the fish procured there, as for the numerous carcases of squirrels, deer, bears, and various other animals, that, in their attempts to cross the river above the falls, have been dragged into the current, In one of my late visits to a friend in the counand precipitated down that tremendous gulf, where, try, I found their youngest son, a fine boy of eight among the rocks that bound the rapids below, they or nine years of age, who usually resides in town furnish a rich repast for the vulture, the raven, and for his education, just returning from a ramble the bald eagle, the subject of the present account. through the neighbouring woods and fields, where He has been long known to naturalists, being com- he had collected a large and very handsome bunch mon to both continents, and occasionally met with of wild flowers, of a great many different colours; from a very high northern latitude to the borders and, presenting them to his mother, said, “Look, of the torrid zone, but chiefly in the vicinity of the my dear mamma, what beautiful flowers I have sea, and along the shores and cliffs of our lakes and found growing on our place! Why, all the woods large rivers. Formed by nature for braving the are full of them! red, orange, and blue, and 'most severest cold, feeding equally on the produce of the every colour. Oh! I can gather you a whole parcel sea and of the land, possessing powers of flight of them, much handsomer than these, all growing capable of outstripping even the tempests them-in our own woods! Shall I, mamma? Shall I go selves, unawed by anything but man, and, from the ethereal heights to which he soars, looking abroad at one glance on an immeasurable expanse of forests, fields, lakes, and ocean deep below him, he appears indifferent to the little localities of change of seasons, as in a few minutes he can pass from summer to winter, from the lower to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the abode of eternal cold, and from thence descend at will to the torrid or the arctic regions of the earth. He is, therefore, found at all seasons in the countries he inhabits; but prefers such places as have been mentioned above, from the great partiality he has for fish. In procuring these, he displays, in a very singular manner, the genius and energy of his character, which is fierce, contemplative, daring, and tyrannieal; attributes not exerted but on particular occasions, but when put forth, overpowering all opposition. Elevated on the high dead limb of some gigantic tree that commands a wide view of the neighbouring shore and ocean, he seems calmly to contemplate the motions of the various feathered tribes that pursue their busy avocations below; the snow-white gulls slowly winnowing the air; the busy tringæ coursing along the sands; trains of ducks streaming over the surface; silent and watchful cranes intent and wading; clamorous crows; and all the winged multitudes that subsist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine of nature. High over all these hovers one whose action instantly arrests his whole attention. By his wide curvature and bring you more?" The good woman received the bunch of flowers with a smile of affectionate complacency; and, after admiring for some time the beautiful simplicity of nature, gave her willing consent, and the little fellow went off on the wings of ecstacy to execute his delightful commission. The similarity of this little boy's enthusiasm to my own struck me, and the reader will need no explanations of mine to make the application. Should my country receive with the same gracious indulgence the specimens which I here humbly present her; should she express a desire for me to go and bring her more, the highest wishes of my ambition will be gratified; for, in the language of my little friend, our whole woods are full of them, and I can collect hundreds more, much handsomer than these.' The ambition of the poet-naturalist was amply gratified. [A Village Scold surprising her Husband in an I' the thrang o' stories tellin, Maggy's weel-kent tongue and hurry "Nasty, gude-for-naething being! Folk frae every door came lampin, Hame, at length, she turned the gavel, Ragin like a very devil, Kickin stools and chairs about. 'Nane are free frae some vexation, [A Pedlar's Story.] I wha stand here, in this bare scowry coat, Ay! thae were days indeed, that gar'd me hope, I kenned my Kate wad grapple at me than. Oh, sir, but lasses' words are saft and fair, 1 Old shoes. Far in a muir, amang the whirling drift, What great misfortunes are poured down on some! Lang, lang I sought and graped for my pack, Fool that I was! how little did I think I trusted time would bring things round again, Though a' my friends, and ilka comrade sweet, HECTOR MACNEILL. HECTOR MACNEILL (1746-1818) was brought up to a mercantile life, but was unsuccessful in most of his business affairs. He cultivated in secret an attachment to the muses, which at length brought him fame, though not wealth. In 1789 he published a legendary poem, The Harp, and in 1795 his moral tale, Scotland's Skaith, or the History o' Will and Jean. The object of this production was to depict the evil effects of intemperance. A happy rural pair are reduced to ruin, descending by gradual steps till the husband is obliged to enlist as a soldier, and the wife to beg with her children through the country. The situation of the little ale-house where Will begins his unlucky potations is finely described. In a howm whose bonny burnie Whimpering rowed its crystal flood, Near the road where travellers turn aye, Neat and beild a cot-house stood: White the wa's wi' roof new theekit, Up the gavel-end thick spreading Joined the burnie's rambling line; That same day set up her sign. Brattling down the brae, and near its Bottom, Will first marvelling sees 'Porter, Ale, and British Spirits,' Painted bright between twa trees. 'Godsake, Tam! here's walth for drinking! Wha can this new-comer be?' 'Hout,' quo' Tam, there's drouth in thinkingLet's in, Will, and syne we'll see.' The rustic friends have a jolly meeting, and do not separate till ''tween twa and three' next morning. A weekly club is set up at Maggy Howe's, a newspaper is procured, and poor Will, the hero of the tale, becomes a pot-house politician, and soon goes to ruin. His wife also takes to drinking. Wha was ance like Willie Gairlace! Thousands had mair braws and siller, See them now-how changed wi' drinking! Davered, doited, daized, and blinking- Wi' ilk face as white's a clout! No a friend their cause to plead ! She wi' weans to beg her bread! The little domestic drama is happily wound up: Jeanie obtains a cottage and protection from the Duchess of Buccleuch; and Will, after losing a leg in battle, returns, placed on Chelsea's bounty,' and finds his wife and family. Sometimes briskly, sometimes flaggin', Willie, heedless, tint his gate. Strack the ear wi' thundering thud: Roslin's towers and braes sae bonny! Craigs and water, woods and glen! Roslin's banks unpeered by ony, Save the Muses' Hawthornden! Ilka sound and charm delighting, Will (though hardly fit to gang) Wandered on through scenes inviting, Listening to the mavis' sang. Faint at length, the day fast closing, 'Soldier, rise!-the dews o' e'ening * Silent stept he on, poor fallow! Listening to his guide before, Through Lasswade's dark woods keek sweetly Entering now, in transport mingle 'Changed I am,' sighed Willie till her; Nought o' Willie Gairlace see?" Hae ye seen the bird fast fleeing, After three lang years' affliction (A' their waes now hushed to rest), Jean ance mair, in fond affection, Clasps her Willie to her breast. The simple truth and pathos of descriptions like these appealed to the heart, and soon rendered Macneill's poem universally popular in Scotland. Its moral tendency was also a strong recommendation, and the same causes still operate in procuring readers for the tale, especially in that class best fitted to appreciate its rural beauties and homely pictures, and to receive benefit from the lessons it inculcates. Macneill wrote several Scottish lyrics, but he wanted the true genius for song-writing-the pathos, artlessness, and simple gaiety which should accompany the flow of the music. He published a descriptive poem, entitled The Links of Forth, or a Parting Peep at the Carse of Stirling; and some prose tales, in which he laments the effect of modern change and improvement. The latter years of the poet were spent in comparative comfort at Edinburgh, where he enjoyed the refined and literary society of the Scottish capital till an advanced age. Mary of Castle-Cary. Saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing, Down by the burnie where flowers the haw-tree: It was nae my wee thing, it was nae my ain thing, It was then your Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary, Defend ye, fause traitor, fu' loudly ye lie. Away wi' beguiling, cried the youth smiling- Is it my true love here that I see? O Jamie, forgie me, your heart's constant to me, The Filial Vow. Why heaves my mother oft the deep-drawn sigh? Yes, partly these her gloomy thoughts employ, The filial piety of Tannahill is strikingly apparent from this effusion, but the inferiority of the lines to any of his Scottish songs shows how little at home he was in English. His mother outlived him thirteen ROBERT TANNAHILL. ROBERT TANNAHILL, a lyrical poet of a superior order, whose songs rival all but the best of Burns's in popularity, was born in Paisley on the 3d of June 1774. His education was limited, but he was a diligent reader and student. He was early sent to the loom, weaving being the staple trade of Paisley, and continued to follow his occupation in his native town until his twenty-sixth year, when, with one of his younger brothers, he removed to Lancashire. There he continued two years, when the declining state of his father's health induced him to return. He arrived in time to receive the dying blessing of his parent, and a short time afterwards we find him writing to a friend- My brother Hugh and I are all that now remain at home, with our old mother, bending under age and frailty; and but seven years back, nine of us used to sit at dinner together.' Hugh married, and the poet was left alone with his widowed mother. On this occasion he adopted a resolution which he has expressed in the following lines: Robert Tannahill. years. Though Tannahill had occasionally composed verses from a very early age, it was not till after this time that he attained to anything beyond mediocrity. Becoming acquainted with Mr R. A. Smith, a musical composer, the poet applied himself sedulously to lyrical composition, aided by the encouragement and the musical taste of his friend. Smith set some of his songs to original and appropriate airs, and in 1807 the poet ventured on the publication of a volume of poems and songs, of which the first impression, consisting of 900 copies, were sold in a few weeks. It is related that in a solitary walk on one occasion, his musings were interrupted. |