fornia lal Y THE ROYAL capt; generai. of Oxc royal ARCnEK s . J'ublijiiril bi/J.J3umreZnth l^'^AiK/turt 1/>H. THE ROYAL BEING A COLLECTION OF OCCASIONED BY THE VISIT OF HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY GEORGE IV. AUGUST 15, 1822. LEITH : Publishtd by James Burnety AND SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS. 1821 1 » > > * S > 1 * >l;>l>>J>) >• • CI ••••>• '•••*• • o *. • • • • • • • "P-R To Bis ^''^^ MOST EXCSLSaENT MAJESTY vSlRE, When the a'JS])idoiis and happy visit of your Majesty to this Country took place, your Majesty was an eye- witness of the joy and happiness your August presence then oci.'asioned ; and although the memory oi' that happy event will remain deeply impressed on the hearts of all your Majesty's Loyal Scottish Subjects — ye\, the Publisher hopes, that the accompanying Poems will not fail to restore happy recollec- tions^ and convince your Majesty the more of that love and affection which every Scotchman entertains for the be:^t of Sovereigns. I am, May it please your MAJESTY, Your Majesty's most humble and mos! devoted Subject, THE PUBLISHER. 'I.i PREFACE. On the liappy occasion of his Majesty's Visit to the Metropolis of Scotland, the Loyalty and De- light which were diffused among all ranks of his Northern Subjects, sought, as is well known, an expression through the Public Prints of the day, in various forms of Poetical Composition. As many of the pieces produced at that period, possessed a degree of merit much above the ordinary class of Newspaper Contributions, and, as they all derived an unusual interest from the event to which they referred, it occurred to the Publisher that he should confer a favour upon every lover of Verse, were he to collect them into One V^olume, and j)rcsent them to the Public in a neat and convenient ionn. No sooner were his intentions madv known, than he received, from different quarters, a variety of Original and viiy Valuable Communications, which PREFACE. would otlicrwisc have been lost to the world ;— And he eagerly embraces the opportunity which he now enjoys, of returning his sincere thanks to those whose kindness has placed him under so great an obligation. To encrease the value of the Work, he has em- bellished it with a Correct Portrait of the late EARL OF HOPETOUN, Captain General OF THE RoVAL AuCHERS, OR King's BoDY GuARD, taken from a Painting by Mr Watson, which is preserved in the Archers"' Hall, as a commemoration of his Majesty's residence in this part of his do- minions. In short, it is hoped that this little Publication, containing so splendid an effusion of poetical talent and loyal feeling, will be regarded as no unsuitable remembrancer of a National event, to which every Scotsman looks back with the highest pride and sa- tisfaction. LdiJi^ August 14, 1824. ©(©sj©© AsriD iPDigsas COMPOSED ON 3^10 JMajestij aexirsc tl}t dTouvtf/s VISIT TO SCOTLAND. CARLE NOW THE KING'S COME ! BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. Being iif u' words to an auld spring. The news has flown frae mouth to mouth, The North for ance has bang'd the South, The de'il a Scotsman's die of drouth, Carle, now the King's come ! CHORUS. Carle, now the Kings's come ! Carle, now the King's come ! Thou shalt dance, and I will sing, Carle, now the King's come Auld England held him lang and fast ; And Ireland had a joyfu' cast ; But Scotland's turn is come at last — Carle, now the King's come ! Auld Reikie, in her rokelay gray. Thought never to have seen the day ; He's been a weary time away — But, Carle, now the King's come ! She's skirling frac the Castle Hill ; The Carline's voice is grown sae shrill, Ye'll hear her at the Canon Mill, Carle, now the King's come ! " Up, bairns 1" she cries, " baith great and sma', And busk ye for the weapon-shaw ! — Stand by me, and we'll bang them a' ! Carle, now the King's come ! " Come from Newbattle's * ancient spires, Bauld Lothian, with your knights and squires. And match the mettle of your sires. Carle, now the King's come ! " You're welcome hame, my Montague ! -f- Bring in your hand the young Buccleugh ; — I'm missing some that I may rue, Carle, now the King's come ! Come, Haddington, the kind and gay, You've graced my causeway mony a day ; • Seat of the Marquis of Lothian, t Uncle to the Duke of Buccleugh. I'll weep tlic cause if you should stay, Carle, now the King's come ! " C!ome, premier Duke * and carry doun, Frae yonder ciaig -f- his ancient croun ; It"s had a lang sleep and a soun'— But, Carle, now the King's come ! " Come, Athole, from the hill and wood. Bring down your clansmen like a cloud ; — Come Morton, shew the Douglas' blood,— Carle, now the King's come .' " Come, Tweeddale, true as sword to sheath ; Come, Hopetoun, fear'd on fields of death ; Come, Clerk, and give yon bugle breath ; Carle, now the King's come ! Hamilton. f The Castle. " Come, Weymss, who modest merit aids ; Come, Roseberry, from Dalmeny shades ; Breadalbane, bring your belted plaids ; Carle, now the Kings's come I " Come stately Niddrle * auld and true, Girt with the sword that Minden knew ; We have o'er few such lairds as you — Carle, now the King's come ! " King Arthur's grown a common crier, He's heard in Fife and far Cantire, — ' Fie, lads, behold my crest of fire !' -{• Carle, now the King's come ! " Saint Abb roars out, * 1 see him pass Between Tantallon and the Bass !' — • Wauchope of Niddrie, a noble looking old man, and a fiiip specimen of an ancient Baron. t There is to be a bonetire on the top of Arthur'^ Seat. Ciilton * get out your keeking-glass, Carle, now tlie King's come I' The Carline stoppVl ; and, sure I am. For very glee had ta'en a dwam, ]?ut Oman helped her to a dram, — Cogic, now the King's come ! Cogie, now the King's come ! Cogie, now the King's come ! I'se be fou' and ye's be toom. Cogie, now the King's come PART SECOND. She toomcd her quaigh of mountain dew, It rais'd her heart the higher too, • The Culton hill coiimiaiids the liiicst view ol' the Firth Forth, and will he covered with thousands, anxiously looking for the Royal squadron. Because it came froin Waterloo — Carle, now the King's come ! Again I heard her summons swell For sic a dirdum and a yell, It drown'd Saint Giles's jowing bell — Carle, now the King's come ! My trusty Provost, tried and tight, Stand forward for the Good Town's right, There's waur than you been made a Knight- Carle, now the King's come ! JMy reverend Clergy, see ye say The best of thanksgiving ye ha'e. And warstle for a sunny day — Carle, now the King's come ! My Doctors, look that you agree. Cure a' the town without a fee. 8 My Lawyers, dinna pike a plea — Carle, now the King's come ! Come fbrJi each sturdy burghers bairn, That chints on wood or clanks on airn, That fires the o'en, or winds the pirn- Carle, now the King s come Come forward with the Blanket Blue, Your sires were loyal men and true, As Scotland's foemen oft might rue — Carle, now the King's come ! Scots downa loup, and rin and rave. We're steady folks, and something grave, We'll keep the causeway firm and brave- Carle, now the King's come ! Sir Thomas thunder from your rock Till Pcntland dinles wi' the shock, 9 I'll hae a braw new snood o' smoke- Car J e, now the King's come ! Melville, bring out your bands of blue, A* Louden lads, baith stout and true. With Elcho, Hope, and Cockburn too— Carle, now the King's come ! And yoU; who on yon bluidy braes Compell'd the vanquish'd foeman's praise. Rank out— rank out — my gallant Greys — Cfle, now the King's come ! Cock of the North, my Huntley bra'. Where are you with my Forty-twa, Ah ! waes my heart that ye're awa' — Carle, now the King's come ! But yonder come my canty Celts, With durk and pistol at their belts. 10 Thank God, we ve still some plaids and kilts- Carle, now the King's come ! Come, cock your cap each Archer spark, For you're to guard him light and dark. Faith, lads, I trow ye've hit the mark — Carle, now the King's come ! Young Errol, take the sword of state, The sceptre Paviemonarchate, Knight Mareschal, see ye clear the gate — Carle, now the King's come ! Kind Cummer Leith ye've been mis-set. But dinna be upon the fret — Ye'se hae the handsel of him yet. Carle, now the King's come ! My daughters, come with e'en sae blue. Your garlands weave, your wild-flowers strew 11 He ne'er saw fairer flowers than you— Carle, now the King's come ! What shall we do for the propine — We used to offer something fine, But de'il a groat's in pouch of mine — Carle, now the King's come ! De'il care — for that I'se never start, We'll welcome him with Highland heart, Whate'er we have he's have his part — Carle, now the King's come I'll show him mason-work this day— Nane of your bricks of Babel clay. But towers shall stand till Time's away Carle, now the King's come ! And here's Sir John, of projects rife. Will win the thanks of an auld wife, 12 And bring here health and length of life. — Carle, now the Kings come ! TO MARY W. Mary, does treason soil my heart When I avow 'tis true From gracious George's train I'd part To steal a look at you ? Oh no ! I feel in every nerve ! (And nature governs there), A traitor's name he would deserve. Who could forsake the fair. I seek not shew— and pomp I spurn— I love the beauteous face : — From George's majesty I'd turn, To dwell on Mary's grac^. M. A N. 13 KING GEORGE THE FOURTH'S COMIN\ A song: WRITTEN JULY 1822, IN ANTICIPATION OF IIIS MAJESTY'S ARRIVAL IN EDINBURGH. Tune—" The Cttmitbells are Comin'. " Tlic first verse is to the low part of the tune, and is meant as a chorus after every verse of the song. We'Jl cock our blue bonnets, aha, aha, Our Scottish blue bonnets, aha, aha ; We'll busk on our tartans — the gatherin' bla^y, King George the Fourth's comin', huzza, huzza ! His Majesty's comin', huzza, huzza, Wellington's comin', an' a' ; 'Midst the leal an' the noble to visit us a'. King George the Fourth's comin', hurra, huna ! We'll cock, &c. Roll smooth river Forth thro' each channel an' bay. Nor dare to lift billow or jaw ; 14 The Conqueror of Navies will ride on your stream, King George the Fourth''s comin', huzza, huzza We'll cock, &c. Auld Scotia, smile o'er your mountains sae green, Edina look crously an"* braw, High lift uji your portals far fam\l Holy rood, That our ain King may enter, hurra, hurra ! We'll cock, &c. Be joyful, ye iialls where our Scottish courts shone. In the blaze o' the brave an' the braw ; Ye'll be graced ance again, for most graceful is he. Royal George that is comin', huzza, huzza ! We'll cock, &c. Castle towers look ye proudly o'er country an' town. Bristle forth now your cannons an' a' ; The Lion again shall wave high on your keep. King Geoi-ge the Fourth's comin' hurra, hurra ! We'll cock, &c. 15 Let the heart of each Scot in his bosom beat hish. We're a' true to the King an' the law ; We've aften fought for him, an' will do so again, For our ain King that's comin', huzza, huzza ! We'll cock, &c. The whisky shall flow in a stream to his health, We'll bumper it roun' till we fa' ; ' >ur bonnets, with shout, we'll toss high in the air, For our ain George that's comin', hurra, hurra ! CHORUS. We'll cock our blue bonnets, aha, aha, Uur Scottish blue bonnets, aha, aha ; We'll busk on our tartans — the gatherin' blaw, King George the Fourth's comin', huzza, huzza ! IG SONG. ON THE OCCASION OF HIS MAJESTy's COMING TO SCOTLAND. Tune. — " Johnny Cope." Scotsmen toss your bonnets on high ; Shout, " WELCOME," till it rend the sky ; Let the sea and the earth return the cry Of *' WELCOME, WELCOME," this momin'. CHORUS. For Gcordle"'s come to the north at last, ■"Mid the cannon"'s roar, and tlie trumpet''s blast ; We'll twine him round our hearts right fast, For the honour Iie''s done us this mornin\ Edina, pride of all our native north. Whose walls look so boldly oVr our Forth, Marshal your sons of talent and worth. To meet our King in the morniu\ For Geordie's, &c. 17 Donald, sound loud your pipe on the gale And rouse each valiant son of" Gael ;— Thunder the pibroch o'er hill and dale, To gather the clans in the niornin'. For Geordie's, &c. Now over the turrets of f am'd Holyrood, The Royal banner shall float so proud ; And with bagpipe and trumpet, and welcomes loud, We'll waken our King each mornin'. For Geordie's, &c. GEORGE THE FOURTH'S WELCOME. Tune— " /F/iWif/e o'er the lave o't. Hark ! the pibroch's martial strain Ca's the clans to Lothian's plain : Scotland's got her King again, Welcome royal Geordie ! 18 ]i!aw, yc breezes ! fav'ring blaw, Hound North Berwick's lofty Law, Gently on the squadron fa', That brinn-s us royal Gcordie Geordie leaves his proud domains, I'or our northern mountain scenes ; He comes to see our nymphs and swains, Courteous royal Geordie. And, ! among our mountains blue, Are loyal chiefs, to valour true, And beauteous nymphs, may wind a clue Around the heart o' Geordie. Welcome to green Albyn's shore, As the gallant Bruce of yore ; He, the lion rampant bore, And sae does royal Gcordie ! ^ 19 Holy rood again looks gay, Martial files, in bright array, Glitter in the Gouden ray. To welcome royal Geordie ! On tower and hill the banners fly, Ten thousand hands are waving high. While thundVing plaudits shake the sky Welcoming royal Geordie ! Let the wine-cup circle round, Let the trumpet's flourish sound, While our ships and forts resound A blithe salute to Geordie ! AD REGEM IN SCOTIAM VENTURUM. O clare Princeps, terra Britannia Cui paret omnis, te, calamo levi Salvere, te laetus jubebo Cum patriam venias vetustam. 20 Visisti atnacnam nuper Hiberniam, Terram feracem maf^nanimis viris, * Germaiiiam et Regum Britannis Egregiam indomitis parentem. Jactanda nobis turiferis Sabae Non terra felix ; non ebur Indiae ; Nee messe bis flavent quotannis Arva Calcdoniae paternae. Natura Scotis oraniparens dcdit Montes, petentes sidera vertice, Vastos lacusque, actos procella, Fluctibus acquipares marinis. Natos celebres quid memorem tibi Notos per orbem fructibus ingeni ? * Wellington, Londondoiry, Moore, Grattun, Curian, &f. 21 Clarum aut poetam nuper ilium Tempora cui redimisti oliva ff Aut marte duros quid meraorem viros Suetos ci'uentae militiae aleae, Semper paratos mortem obire Cum patria auxilium requirat ; Fortuna nobis, te duce, prospera Belli secundos reddidit exitus ; Et pax amaena omnes per urbes Otia fundit opesque gratas. Scotis colendus perpetuo dies Qui junxit ipsos imperio Angliae : (Di provehant in magis usque Mutua consilia.) Ast potens rex. t An allusion is here attempted to the manner in whicii the royal favour was bestowed upon our illustrious roniitry- jnan Sir Walter Scott, Bart. n " Qui civitatcin quis deceat status Curas, et urbi sollicitus times" Omitte Londini beati Fumum et opes strepitumque amarc. Nostras Athcnas nunc venias cito Gives et omnes laetitia implcas, Dicemus ac " lo triumphe'" jE there turn resonante plausu. C. N. Student in the senior GreeJc Class, Edinhurgh College. THE KILT TO THE CAP. Mary, now the King is come, Law to him will have me true, — Love will keep my troth for you, What the devil shall I do, Mary, now the King is come ? 23 Mary, now the King is come, You will fly to see the shew ; I must — kilted, cold below — In the dull procession go, Mary, now the King is come. Mary, now tiie King is come, Reekie splendid sights will see^ Every day'll renew the glee — (Lord, what pains I've in my knee !) Mary, now the King is come. Mary, now the King is come — March"'d about the whole day through, I shall not have time to woo.— Evening, then, or night must do, ^Nlary, now the King is come. 34 GEORGE THE FOURTH, AND A' THAT. Ti;ne— " IVhistle o'er the lauc o't." By John Mayne. King Gkorge the Fourth is coming down To see his friends in Embro-town ; To liold his court, and wear the crown O' Scotland's kings, and a' that. And sC the chieftains o' the North, Lords, leddics, lairds, and men of worth, Are flocking to the Firth o' Forth, To welcome him, and a"* that. Days ere the King had reached the land, A happy People, hand in hand, Were rang'd for miles alang the strand, Expecting him, and a' that ! For though our Liege has kingdoms three, And mony an island in the sea. 25 Auld Scotland strives to bear the gree For loyalty, and a' that. At length, amid ten thousand cheers, Behold, the royal barge appears ! And hither, as the squadron steers, Wi' gilded flags, and a' that. The joy-bells ring, the trumpets sound ; And, ere he sets his foot on ground, " God save the King" is sung around, Wr tears of joy, and a' that. Oh ! many a dowy day has been Since Scotland saw a king or queen ! Empires and states, and thrones, I ween, Ha'e been o'erturned since a' that. Yet Scotland, without crack or flaw. Stands fast and firm, and ne'er shall fa\ While virtue, amang great and sma"". Adorns her bairns and a' that. 26 Then cock your bonnets, ilka blade ; And, lords anil leddles, man and maid, Let rites and lionours due be paid To Royalty, and a' that. Though Kings and Queens of high renown, Ha'e flourished aft in Embro-town, A better never Avore the crown Than George the Fourth for a' that. But, oh.! while guns and cannons roar. And plaudits welcome him on shore, The heart is wounded to the core. That we must part, for a' that. Yet fill your goblets till they foam ; And when the King'^s disposed to roam, He 11 look on Scotland as his home, And come again and a' that. 27 SCOTCH SANG. AN IMPROMPTU ON His Most Gracious Majesty KING GEORGE THE FOURTh's VISIT TO SCOTLAND. All' hae ye heard the joj^fu' news ? How Geordie'^s coming down — King Geordie ! o' that Ilk the Fourth, " Wha wears the Enghsh Crown. There's meikle luck if it be sae — There's meikle luck in store ; — As nane o' Brunswick's Royal Race War ever here afore. King Geordie is a bonny chiel — A meikle mon o' might ; Gude troth, 't will mak us a' fu leil Whan we see sick a sight. There's meikle luck in prospect now. An' surely mair in store — As nane o' Brunswick's Royal Stock War ever here afore. Gang to Lord Provost's house, my Jo, His honour kens fu' weel Whan Our Gude Monarch's Royal Yacht At Leith will rest her Keel. There will be luck gif he come down, An' mair perhaps in store ; — As nane o' Brunswick's Royal House Was ever here afore. Ca' in upon the Minister- Mess John is unco gude, He'll tell ye gif the King will come Adown to Holy Rood. There will be luck when he gaes their Aye, meikle luck in store ; — S9 He'll be the first o' a' that Line WhaVe grac'd fair Scotia's shore. Ca' in on the Conveener, Jo, An' hell the Deacon, bring — An' wi' them, a' the City Trades To wait upon the King. There will be luck when he comes here Aye, meikle mair in store ; — As nane o' Brunswick's Royal Race War ever here afore. But hark ! I hear the Castle Guns — (The News is surely true) Gae fetch my brand an tartan plaid — An' bonnet o' true blue ! There's meikle luck the day for us, An' meikle mair in store; — A star o' Brunswick's Royal Line Shines now on Scotia's shore. 30 Arouse ! Arouse ye Archers brave I The King they say's come down — (King Gcordie ! o' that Ilk the Fourth) To claim the Scottish Crown ! That's mcikle luck, an' since 'tis sae We'll welcome Geordie here, — An' tender the Regalia too To ane, sae unco dear ! Put on the meikle pat, my Jo, An' gies a cog o' brose, Syne bring some whiskey punch to tiff' — '• Confusion to his foes. ' There's meikle luck for Scotland now. Our honoured King's come doun ; — King Geordie ! o' that Ilk the Fourth Shall have the Scottish Crown ! 'Tis king syn syne a King was here ; — But since the way he's found, — 81 Heaven grant that we may see his face Fu' aft on Northern ground. The Rose an' Thistle we'll entwine. An' knock ilk foe-man clown, Who dare dispute King Geordie's right To wear the Scottish Crown ! TO HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY. Dear Sire ! — I am a Perthshire Lad, An' freely maun declare There's mony a Scottish subject would Be blithe to see ye there ; — An' gif ye cross the Tay my Liege, I hope it will be soon— Wi' hearts o' love an' loyalty We'll Crown ye then at Scoone ! J. BISSET. 32 A VOICE FROM THE HIGHLANDS. The peak of yon mountain is shining in light. Like the beacon which summoned our fatliers to fight ; Each Chief from the Highlands has followed the blaze, At the call of his Monarch his standard to raise. The sleep of the heathcock is peaceful and still, For the pibroch has summoned the Sons of the Hill; We have left the red deer to be lord of the glen. And by tens and fifties have mustered our men. Yet the dirk and broadsword may serve but to show That to welcome a foeman we had not been slow ! We haste where yon vessel approaches the land, But it is not for battle we press to the strand. Our Chieftains they crowd round the greatest of all. The first in the field, and the first in the hall ; 33 To so mighty a Master 'tis given to few, So fair and so willing a homage to do. No Master but he, for his frown or his smiles, Could call from the mountain the Lord of the Isles, To him, and no other, in duty would bow, The plume of the eagle on Sutherland's brow. For him, and no other, Glengarry would stay So far from the stag and the rifle away. They are few to whom Campbell or Gordon would yield Unbidden precedence in hall or in field. When he musters his kinsmen, the best shall not fail His standard to bow, and his bonnet to veil. From a long hne of Chiefs his dominion began ; His vassals a host, and a people his clan. Then round me that pibroch, the shrillest and liest, Which woke in Arroyos the French from their rest. 34 Tin n loud be your sliout, as on IMaida it rose U i-r t!ie clash of your claymores, your bayonets close Though calm of demeanour, our spirits can glow, At the smile of a friend, or the scowl of a foe ; When his vessel approaches yon mountain shall ring, With the shout which we raise for our Chieftain and King. THE LANDING. IIkakd ye yon shout ? — 'TwasScotland's sons That bade their ^Monarch hail. — Each foot of groimd a freeman holds ; Each billow bears a sail. Each eye is fixed upon liis form And Scottish hearts are one. — The young huzza, while aged lips Say, " God, O bless my son." 35 The sea that bore its lionoured freiglit Unto our Scottish strand, Might bear him to a richer sliore, But not a truer land ; — For Scotland's sons were never last On panting battle field ; And braver hearts than theirs ne'er beat Beneath a mailed shield. Though other nations, eke may plight Their troth in softer strains ; Yet honest hearts are ever found Upon our heath clad plains. And if yon mass, which owns one soul, Could find one tongue to tell, Their welcome to their chosen Prince, The King, they love so well. — 36 Their voice would be—" Come long desired Into a nation's arms ; A Scottish welcome may be rude, 13at Scottish grasp ne'er harms. These mountains that look darkly down From 'mid our northern sky — Those are the ramparts of your throne— The home of Liberty. And should a hostile arm e'er rise, In anger or in threat, A thousand hands shall shew those blades, Which ne'er proved coward yet. And we shall tell our little ones, That cluster round our knee, How Scotchmen went to greet their King, Whert he came o'el' the sea. 37 And we shall frame their little lips, To lisp our monarch's name ; And as their fathers prov'd them true, Their sons will do the same. They, too, will fight for Scotland's King,- They'll rally round his throne. His cause shall aye be dear to them,— His honour as their own. And when you quit our rocky shore. And turn to go away, We'll love to speak about our King, And think upon this day. And when you visit other lands, Lands fair and fruitful too, Their folk, like Scotland's sons, be kind ; Like Scotland's gons, be true. 38 And as we speak the parting word, We'll make the welkin ring: : It's arches shall repeat the voice — " God bless our rightful King ?' " THE PLAID OF THE NORTH. Strike the harp of the North for the Plaid of the Highlands, Till Beauty and Valour shall honour the strain ; Strike it up ! — till its glory resound o'er the Island, Where bosoms of rapture shall praise it again. Let the Lowlands exult in their civilized story, And boast their apparel — too tame to be free ! But let mine be the mountain, I'omantic in glory — The Plaid of the North is the mantle for me ! 'Tis the robe of all hues in variety blending, An emblem of friendship, fidelity, worth ; But its charm is best seen when divinely descending O'er beauty's fond bosom — the pride of the North. I have witnessed the brave of all nations before me, Yet felt no emotion — their vesture was art ; But the Highlander rose — and his spirit came oer me, While Nature's wild mantle enravished my heart. I have witnessed the Fair, robed in fanciful splen- dour, And mused on their charms, though I could not approve ; But when beauty shone forth in the Plaid — I grew tender. And worshipped the magic that taught me to love. < 'Tis the garment for beauty— adorn'd while adorn- ing, The mantle for valour is Caledon's Plaid 40 But when loveliness smiles in its hues— 'tis the morning. With the rainbow of glory thrown over her head LINES ON GEORGE THE FOURTH'S VISIT TO SCOTLAND, AUGUST 15, 1822. Haste ye maidens south the Forth, Haste ye from the east and west ; Quit ! oh quit ! the stormy north ; Busk ye in your brawest best. To great Dunedin hasten quick, On friend or lover never halt on ; Her ancient streets are thronging tliick. And Lords and Knights o'ersprcad the Calton, And you, ye youth of Scotia's hills, Successors of a warlike race, 41 Oh, leave your mountains, woods, and rills. And join with them your King to grace. At Holyrood his Court is held, And Lords and Dukes adorn his train ; A nobler sight you ne'er beheld ; — Soon may we see the like again ! His Court is rich in Lords and Knights, The best, the bravest in the land, Whose sires for all their lawful right, Fear'd not in fields of death to stand. Breadalbane's come with all his clan, With fam'd Glengyle and gay Glengarry ; The Murray, Lord of Atholl's land, MacCallum More from Inverary. And Morton's there, of Douglas name. From ancestors of noblest worth ; 42 Live there who has not heard the fame Of gallant Douglas of the North ? Maxwell has left Nith's lovely stream ; Johnstone and Jardine, Annan side ; The Sark and Esk send many a beam Of fame and beauty, Scotland's pride. Flowers of the forest all are there, With all the knights on eastern coast , And many a loyal squire and peer The Tweed and Liddle banks have lost. And Gordon's come to grace the day ; — Gordons, from sires so brave and bold, Whose warlike feats made many a lay In Scotland's martial days of old. Mansfield, a Murray too, is there. With him who claims old Queensberry's land ; 43 And Hay, now vested with the care Of Scotia's peace, on Scotia's land. Others are there of well earned fame, With friends and followers not a few : Montrose, the heir of ancient Graham, And Hopetoun's Earl, and " bold Buccleugh.'" There, too, the bard of all the north, — Scott, who of Scotia's glens has sung, Whose lays to every land's gone forth — Has fiU'd, with pleasure, old and young Busk ye, then, sweet maidens all, O come ye forward ! do not tarry. For George, our King, now fills the hall Where once was seen fair, fated Mary. Y 44 TO YESTERDAY.* Dull yesterday, Tni glad you're fled, With all your train of clouds and gloom. Why should you shroud in mists your head. And shine not on the Drawine:-room ? Was it because you tliought it shame, To glow with sun-shine, seeming merry, While deep into shrine of fame, Was sunk lamented Londonderry ? Or, when the ladies of the North, Deserted, left our Princes' Street, That their lovM Sovereign, George the Fourth, Might with a kiss their homage meet. • A wet, dull, gloomy day ; being the day of the Drawing- room at Ilolyrood House and of tlie lamented Marquis of Londonderry's burial in Westminster Abbey. • 45 Did you, dull yesterday, despair, In drizzling tears, of being fine ? And robbed by George, of all the fair, Give up the vain attempt to shine ? THE SONS OF THE SHAMROCK. (A new Song on his Majesty's visit to Scotland.) Let the King go to Scotland, my jewel (says Pat,) He's in luck, if he find such a welcome as that He received from the Sons of the Shamrock. By my soul, I'm mistaken, or, 'twixt me and you. Master Sawney will find he's got something to do, If he rivals the Sons of the Shamrock. He must brush up his bonnet, and stir well his stumps. For the fara'd Land of Cakes will be put to her trumps, When she vies with the Sons of the Shamrock, 46 All her Lairds and her Lassies, thoiin-li brave and as bonnie, As ever cut capers to bag-pipe, my honey ! Must yield to the race of the Shamrock. Let her Clans and her Chieftains come down from their Highlands, Though they talk of their whisky, what are they but dry lands. Compared to the soil of the Shamrock ! In a glass of Potheen when old Erin he toasted, It so cheered his heart, that, God bless him ! he boasted, 'Twas Irish, and true to the Shamrock. With their broadswords, and bucklers, and bowmen, •what noise ! The Shilelah's the trueguard of honour, my boys ! For a King'mongst the Sons of the Shamrock. Faith ! he thought so himself, for he packed off his bands, And exulting to find himself safe in our hands, Cried" Hurrah ! for the Sons of theShamrock 1' 47 Let them fit up in state their Holyrood Halls, Let them level their streets, and knock down their old walls, What is that to the Sons of the Shamrock ? Not a rut in his road did he find in our parts, George at once saw his way, clean and clear to our hearts, When he came 'mono;st the Sons of theShamrock. Tho' they've Bards of Great fame, Scotts and Camp- bells a-score, I can harp it myself, though not quite like Tom Moore, In defence of the Sons of the Shamrock. We've been silent indeed, for what reason to sing, Had poor Erin in praise of a Court or a King, UntilGeorge touched the shores of the Shamrock Place the bonnet of Bruce on his head, and 'tis odd, Tho' they plume it with thistles quite fresh from their sod. If he doss not prefer llic green Shamrock ; 48 For he always had taste, and can any man blame him ! Because he has shown he knew best what became him. And so decked his brows with the Shamrock. There it blooms to all eyes, — the cockade of his Crown, Let us see, my brave boys, who shall dare take it down, In tiie face of the Sons of the Shamrock ! While 'tis there and unfaded, hisfoesmaygo whistle ! And in vain shall the lads of the Rose and the Thistle, Hope to rival the Sons of the Sliamrock. Though they strut in their tartans and kilts as they call 'em. They're only short Petticoats — breeches would gall 'em, They're not iike the Sons of the Shamrock. 49 But they look for all that, like tight fellows, and those Who have tried them, swear they give very hard blows. Although not like the Sons of the Shamrock. But if they're so brisk at a feast or a fray, And to honour a guest, always jovial and gay, 'Tis because theyVe a smack of the Shamrock ; Sure 'tis very well known, that we peopled their lands ; St Patrick took that little job in his hands. Long ago with some lads of the Shamrock. But we now are all one, though the union divides us. Yet we'll stick to the bargain for honour still guides us. If Justice be done to the Sliamrdck ; By my soul, if he's wise, George had better come over 50 To his own little Island, and there live in clover, For Kings are still safe with the Shamrock. No complaint will he hear from the rich or the poor, Not a grievance they have will they lay at his door. If his heart be but true to the Shamrock ; And tho"* Ireland, God knows, has some wrongs to her share, He'll find that no serpent to sting him is there. Or can shelter beneath the green Shamrock. WAT YE WHA'S A' COMIN\ Being new Words to an auld i^pring, Wat ye wha's a' comin' .'' Donald's comin', Sawney "s comin', Watty Scott an' as comin\ Wat ye wha's a' comin', Tafiy's comin', Paddy's comin', Jo^nii^ Bull an' 's comin'. 51 Wat ye wha's a' comin'. Peace is comin', Plenty's comin', Health and wealth an' a's comin'. SONG. Tune—" O^rr ike muir amang the Heuthfr." O Scotia, now's the happy day. When a' the warld is met together, In famed Edina's streets sae gay. Where shines the bonny blooming heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; In famed Edina's streets sae gay, Where shines tne oonny blooming heather. Now let each bardie tunefu' sing. And ilka pibroch bang the ither ; 52 To welcome George our gracious King, Wha's come amang our blooming heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; To welcome George our gracious King, Wha's come amang our blooming heatlier. Come ilka mountain''s chief and clan, Fra' muir an' glen, come quickly hither ; To welcome George our gracious King, Wha's come amang our blooming heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; To welcome George our gracious King, Wha's come amang our blooming heather An' hasten ilka bonnie lass, The pride o' Scotia, hasten hither ; 53 Wha's glowing charms e'en surpass Her bonny native blooming heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; Wha's glowing charms e'en surpass Her bonny native blooming heather. Clome a' to this great jubilee ; Wr your best tartans hasten hither ; For George will like the fair to see, Wiia bloom sae sweet amang the heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; For George will like the fair to sec, Wha bloom sae sweet amang the heather Of Holyrood, her Court, and King, An' a' the joyful sights together, 54 The hills and dales, for lang shall ring, At evening's glow amang the heather. O the bonny blooming heuther, O the bonny blooming heather, The hiils and dales, for lang shall ring. At evening's glow amang the heather. An' aft when by the ingle side, As spinning sits the happy mither. She'll tell her bairns wi' mcikle pride, When George cam' 'mang the blooming heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather; She'll tell her bairns wi' meikle pride, WhenGeorgc cam"mangthe blooming heather. Thou bonny, swcetejt native flower. Thy lovely bloom shall never wither ; 55 An' thou hast graced ilk festive hour, An' George our King wore sprigs o' heather. O the bonny blooming heather, O the bonny blooming heather ; An' thou hast grae'd ilk festive hour, An' George our King wore sprigs o' heather SONG. Tune — " Rule Britannia." Scotia with joy her ancient crown, Upon the Fourth great George has placed, Whose royal race, her high renown. With signal trophies has oft grac'd. Rule, Britannia ! Britannia's deeds proclaim ; At sea, on shore, alike her matchless fame ! When France and Spain had bent their mind By Britain's fall to close t! e war, m Her sailors, their proud fleet couibiird, Swept from the sea at Trafalgar. Rule, &c. When Europe, struck with fresh alarms, Implor'd Britannia's aid anew. Her soldiers, with resistless arms, Repeird the storm at Waterloo. Rule, &;c. The Meteor dire, to which this age Had giv'n, portentous, awful birth, Unequaird in historic page. Will now no more alarm the earth. Rule, &c. In India's long-contested field, Britannia's power triumphant reigns ; Millions, subjected, joyful yield, Where Justice equal sway ma'mtains. Rule, &:c. m The Western world resounds her name. Whose sons, benevolent as brave, Still with unceasing ardour aim To break the fetters of the slave. Rule, &c. Loud let the lively music sound ; Let mazes trip the floor and green ; Let jovial cheer throughout abound ; More happy days may ne'*er be seen. Rule, &c. Long may our King the course pursue, In which his much.lov'd father shone ; His People's good have in his view-— The greatest glory of a throne. Rule, &c. And long may guard fair freedom"'s isles, Wisdom's great Councils, Valour's hand ; 58 Inspired by Beauty''s seraph smiles, Whose graces deck our envied land. Rule, Britannia! Brltannia''s deeds proclaim ; At sea, on shore, alike her matchless fame. A. D. A SONG WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF HIS MAJESTY's VISIT TO SCOTLAND.* What ails you, dare Pat ! Why so vapVin"', my honej; ? Your head's full of whiskey, your purse full of money, Else you would not so boast the green Shamrock. And not only that, but thou lightUes the Thistle ; And bids the red Rose-bud of England go whistle, As not to compare with the Shiimrjck. • See page 45. 59 Tliou sayst, too, the High-lands of Scotia are dry — But no Ibe e'er scaled them, no foe e'er came nigh. As they did the low lands of the Shamrock. Yes ! thy Erin, tho' proud, and tho' kind, and warm- hearted, Must think with a tear on the days long-departed, When the foe prostrate pressed theg?-cen Shamrock. When thou mark'st our gay Thistle, encircled with spears, Do but touch it, and then thou wilt feel how it tears The rude hand of a Son of the Shamrock. But thy li'itie green emblem, an innocent weed. Let folks crush as they may, it can sting not, nor bleed, *Tis so harmless the little green Shamrock. ' With their broadswords, and bucklers, and bow- men, what noise I' Say'st thou, — Paddy, in these we are proud to re- joice. And rejoice in despite of the Shamiock. The bows and the broadswords of Scotsmen of yore, Have pressed on to victVy on Erin's pule shore, When a Bruce the red Hon of Caledon bore. To the aid of the Sons of the Shamrock. The kilt of the mounrneernextcalls forth thy 3corn, But say where is a dress of such elegance worn, In the whole little isle of the Shamrock. And where are the Islesmen, at " a feast oi' a fray," More devoted to love, — firm in battle than they — While they spurn at descent from the Shamrock. Our front, like the Thistle's, may be seeming to frown^ But our hearts are as soft as its own purple down. To King George — nay, the Sons of the Shamrock. The Crown of the James's encircles his brow ; The hcalh-bells and Thistles wave ovtr it now— We cannot at all see the Shamrock. We've given him our welcomes — we'll still give him more. When he sets his dear foot on our wild rocky shore, True to loyalty, love, and the Shamrock. 61 Our bumpers let's fill,— let us kindly agree. Let the Rose and the Thistle bloom evermore free. And entwined with the neat little Shamrock. Edmburgh, August, 1822. A. THE ADDRESS OF AULD GUIDWIFE, HOLYROOD, TO KING GEORGE IV. ON EECEIVING HIS MAJESTY INTO HER ARMS, UPON THURSDAY, THE EVER MEMORABLE FIFTEENTH DAY OF AUGUST, 1822. " God bless your honours — can ye seSi T " The kind auld canty carlin greet r TuNi; — " this is no mi/ ain House." O WELCOME to your ain house ! YouVe welcome, my Geordie, here ! 62 That e'er again your ain house, Should Avelcom'd a Sovereign dear f My heart is big — I downa speak — (Mishanter tak my eild and reek !) The tear upon my auld grey cheek Maun welcome my Sovereign dear ! O, welcome to your ain house, Your ain ancient Holyrood ! To see this day^ your ain house Hath lang, lang, and weary stood ! Ance mair shall nobles crowd my ha', And gallant knights and ladies braw, Wi' you, my King — amang them a", Thrice welcome to Holyrood ! O, welcome to your ain house ! O, blyth, blyth, am I to see, The Scion o"* our ain Bruce, In my halls of chivalry ! Though long neglectit and forlorn, IVe yet a trumpet and a horn— 63 A Lion * and an Unicorn -f- To greet ye lad right royally ! O, welcome to your ain house — ■ Wertna wi' my youthfu' Scott, A' night, frae me, your ain house, Out oure the door, you shou'dna got. I'll rate Sir Walter to his teeth — To haud ye, raikin' to Dalkeith, And rowth o' room, my roof beneath. For banquetting and bedding o't I I ha'e been lang your ain house, (Ye mind me the beginning o't !) Right lang hath been your ain house, Acquainted wi' the ringing | o't ! Nae wonder though my bosom yearn, O'er you my sonsie Royal bairn ; For guid an' a', ye maun return, Neist year, about the springing o't : • Artrhu's Seat, t Calton Hill. J Reigning. 64 Then braw shall be your ain house Wi' just a wee bit trigging o't Then, welcome to your ain house, And a"" the princely bigging o't ! For naething shall ye need to seek. Your groanin' aumrie winna steek, Wi' bread and cheese for your door cheek, As heretofore the rigging o"! ! LINES On Jtis Majesty's arrival in Scotland, BY MISS MACDONELL. Hark to those raptVous shouts of joy Resounding through the ambient air ; They speak delight without alloy, The absence of all grief and care. See Caledonia's sons advance. While loud and long the cannons roar ; 65 While in the sun the pennons glance, As on they hasten to the shore. Onward they press with eager haste, See, see, the vessel nears the land ; He comes, he comes ! Yes, now at last, His footsteps press the yielding sand ! Rejoice, Edina, now rejoice. Let acclamations fill the gale ; Shout all, with loud and joyful voice, Hail, to our Monarch ! Hail, all hail ! Edina now, within her walls ; Contains of Scotia's land the flower ; The Barons quit their ancient halls, And beauty, too, forsakes her bowV. Old Holyrood once more is grac'd By Caledonia's royal Lord : E G() In her deserted balls arc placed The royal throne, the festive board. The King, surrounded by his Peers, And lovely dames, of high degree ; Once more, as erst in former years. Her walls resound with revelry. And "'midst the festive throng behold, The Scottish Bard, w ho loves to raise The song of Knights and IJarons bold, Who figurM in chivalric days. Harp of the North, thou ne'er can'*st be Silent while thus thy minstrel breathes ; Who strikes thy chords melodiously, And talcs of Scotia''s valour weaves. And see, the tartans waving wide, Troclaim the Highland Chiefs attend ; G7 Each pressing to his Monarch's side, A loyal subject, faithfiil friend. Their bright claymores are in the sheath. For all is peace and gay delight ; The pipe's gay notes of pleasure breathe In honour of this happy siglit. But should an hour of danger rise, Of danger dread, and war's alarms ; Quick as the sign of battle flies, Each Chief would instant rush to arms. Then would the war-pipes loudly bray, And from each heathy hill and dale, Like torrents down the rocky way. Would rush the bold and hardy Gael f Fierce would Glengarry's claymore wave, As on he led his gallant band ; 6S III fbeman's blood the point he\l lave, And dim the briglitncss of the brand. Jkit distant far be scenes hke these, Long may our native land be blest With all the joys of gentle peace. Freedom, prosperity, and rest ! LINES, BY THE RE\'. GEORGE CRABBE, L.L.D. Of old, when a "Monarch of England appeared In Scotland, he came as a foe ; There was war in the land, and around it were heard Lamentations, and mourning, and woe. In the bordering land, which the Muses love best, "Was one whom they favoured of old ; m With a view of the future his mind they impresg'd, And gave him the power to unfold. *' Come strike me the harp, and my spirit sustain^ That these visions of glory annoy, While I to the Chieftains of Scotland explain What their sons shall hereafter enjoy. <' I see, but from far — I behold, but not near, When war on the Border shall cease ; New cities will rise, and the triumphs appear Of Riches, and Science, and Peace. *' O ! give me to breathe, while this scene I describe^ A Monarch in Scotland I see. When she pours from her Highland and Lowlands each tribe. Who are loyal, and happy, and free. 70 " The Islands at rest in their Sovereign rejoice, Lo ! the power and the weahh they display ! And there comes from the lands and the waters a voice, From the Shannon, the Thames, and the Tay. " All hail to our King ! is the shout of the crowd ; I see them, a shadowy throng ; They are loyally free, are respectfully proud. And joy to their King is their song. " Yet bear up, my soul, 'tis a theme of delight. That thousands hereafter shall sinsr. How Scotland, and England, and Ireland unite, In their Glory, their Might, and their Kino-. " Aloud strike the harp, for my bosom is cold, And the sound has a charm on my fears A City new-clothed, as a Bride I behold. And her King as her Bridegroom appears. 71 " 'Tis he whom they love, and who loves them again, Who partakes of the joy he imparts ; Who over three nations shall happily reign, And establish his throne in their hearts.'" Edinburgh, August 15, 1822. THE NEWS. SONG. Tu.vi:— " S//irra-7nui/\" " O cam ye east, or cam ye west, Or, bring ye news to me, man ? Or were ye at the Pier o"" Leith, Or did the landin' see man ?" I saw the fleet come up the Firth, Heard Geordie hailed wi' heartfelt mirth, 'Mang Nobles rank'd by bluid and birth And saw him land, on Scotland's Strand 72 By ancient ban* ta'eh by the hand. An' met wi"" welcomes three, man. *' They say a Scottish Minstrel cam' And shook his han' right fain, man ; Gied him ' a Ladies gift,' and cried, You're welcome to your ain, man. Then fort an' fleet, that near him stood, Wi' guns raised up a rackit loud, An' Castle-hill, an' Holyrood, Wi' unco bang, the news alang, In thunder rang, the hills amang, Till Sal'sbury roared amen ! man." O' had ye seen him come alang, Wi' a' his nobles, gay, man, Whilst welcome look's an " ladies' smiles," Him lightet up the way, man. Auld Scotland's doughty barons prest, Their blades that lang had lain at rest, 73 And marshalled up the Royal Guest, Whilst trumpet soun', and pibroch croon, Were like to droon, the lift aboon, Frae Forth unto the Tay, man. The Highland clans, in tartan sheen, Were busket unco bra', man, Hersel' for plume had heather-bloom, And " Scotland's flower"" an' a', man. * Auld Reekie', fidgin', sat aboon. And sent her Sons in thousands doon, To welcome Geordie to her town, And say tho' foes, should pu' his rose. He'd aye get brose, and ne'er should lose Her for his hame and a', man. Then down to ancient Holyrood, Wha hailed the happy day, man, They've ta'en the King, where lang had stood, AiJd Scotland's regal sway, man. 74 Althu'' her hearth has lung been cauld, And wa"*s an' roof are growin'', auld, A blink frae him has made her bauld — A Royal Court — a gay resort — Where Kingly sport, and a' that sort, O' daffin's night an' day, man. Lang reign in peace our lavvfu' King, We"]! aye his rights maintain, man. And while he stays 'mang Scotia's hills, He'll aye be wi' his ane, man. There's ne'er a' ane in a' the Ian', But wha wad serve him heart an' han' And pleasure him the best they can ; — For a' do swear — they'll keep him here. For ae hall' year, or maybe mair. If he can but remain, man. 75 ON VIEWING THE APPROACH TO THE PALACE, FROM SALISBURY CRAIGS. Few months yet have passed, since I stood on tliis height, The scene was then silent and still ; Yon Palace reposed in the slumber of night, The shadows fell deep from yon hill. The wind faintly sighed, o'er those towers as it passed ; The dew lay unmoved on the ground, Save when brushed by some spectre all pale and aghast, Tripping soft, as afraid of each sound. Few months yet have passed : Now yon pageant of gold. Rolls proudly along gaily dight, — And warriors are gliding about as of old, And their armour is gleaming so bright. 76 Fond visions arise as with transport I gaze On these chiefs and these gallants so fine ; For Scotland ! I think on those gladsome young days. When a King and a Court too were thine. I think on the time when thy Mary's light foot Trode softly within those dark walls ; Before her e''en warriors and clansmen were mute. Her harp alone breath'd through those halls. I think on the time when " He whom 111 name,'' Came down with the streams of the North ; And, spell-bound, the Lion fell prostrate and tame, As his banner waved over the Forth. For a moment the star of the Stuart shone bright, Ere it sunk ne'er again to arise ; Like a meteor that flares in the bosom of night, It gleams, then it flickers — and dies. 77 But the ensign that now proudly floats at my feet, Is owned by each land that it sees, And the voice of a nation, assembled to greet Their monarch, is borne on the breeze. Thrice welcome, they cry, to the land of the free I Thrice welcome ! that land is thy own ! The arms of a People are opened to thee. And they offer their hearts as a throne ! SONG. Tune—" King Geirrge^s favourite" — or " Pit gang nue ma'r to yon toicti." O wat ye wha's in yon town, Wi' tartan trews an' plaidie on ? The King's come down to yon toWn, Wi' lords an"* ladies waitin' on. His errand bodes nae bluidy end — His trumpet soun's nae warlike ca'— 78 The flag o' peace floats white and hie — And joy blinks in Dun-Edin's ha' — O wat ye wha''s in yon town, Wi' bonnet blue and featiier on — Our ain Gudeman''s in yon town, An' a' his bairns aroun' his throne. His every look, inspiring cheers. And kindly words, the Father prove. His sons reflect a martial Sire, And daughters vie in lady-love. O wat ye wha's in yon town, Wi' kilted clansmen rankit roun"* — The Chief o"* clans in yon town Is wearin' Scotland's ancient crown, And mony a belted knight is there. Wham Caledonia sends fVae far ; — The mildest beams in smiling peace — The darkest clouds in stormy war. 79 O vvat ye \vlia"'rf in yon town — Wha sings the words that Scotland cheer " O, ril come back to yon town, An"* see my bairnies ilka year :"" " The land o' cakes" III ne'er forrjct— Her sons are true, where''er they be : — O lang may Heaven her favours send, And bless the land that's dear to nie. SONG ON HIS majesty's PROCESSION TO HOLYPvOOD. TrKE,— »//<>// Tnlli 7'aitti." Hark ! hark ! it rises from the shore, A voice like many v.aters' roar, The shouts of myriads hail once more The Sovereign of the Free. The cannon from the Castle high. Peal out the news from earth to sky. 80 And Salisbury cliffs give glad reply, And far their echoes flee. He comes ! — he comes ! — the King of Isles, Where banners wave and Beauty smiles, Through fair Edina's proudest piles, In march of majesty. He comes, 'mid Noble, Knight, and Squire, 'Mid blushing Youth and gray-hair'd Sire, And C'hiefs of Roman garb and fire. And martial minstrelsy. He comes in pomp of ancient days, 'Mid gold and crimson's scarlet blaze, That flash their glory on the gaze, From robes of Chivalry. High swells the heart — the tear of joy Is starting into every eye. 81 And blessings flow in many a sigh, As glides the pageantry. A moment silence reign'd profound. Then woke at once wild raptures sound. And " Welcome .' Welcome !" all around Electric-likc did fly- Oh ! 'tis a nation's proudest tale, When rise her shouts upon the gale. Her Sovereign as her Sire to hail, *' God save the King !'' her cry. THE KING'S MUSTER. An Excellent New Son^^ to an Excellent Old Tunc. Little wat ye wha's commg, Little wat ye wha's coming, F 82 Little wat yc whfi's coming, Now the King himscrs coming. Theic's Coaches coming, Steam-boats lamming, Targets coming, Turtles scumming, Bow Street and Lochabcr's coming, Wi' pipes to make a braw bumming. Little ken ye wha"'s coming. Clans and Clowns and a's coming. ■o Curtis and his Cook's coming, Glengarry and his Tail's coming, Duke and DunywasselPs coming, And wealth o" gaucy Bailies coming, Little wat ye wha's coming, Now the Kinrj himsePs comin":. Tartan's coming. Muslin's coming, (xrcgavich's coming, Greenock's coming. Here's the holly badge o' Drummond, And there's a Celt, that's but a rum one. 83 Little ken ye wha's coming, Cat and Cammerfae''s coming. Breadalbane's breekless Kernes are coming Paisley's Weaving IJairns are coming, Dirks are coming, Treddles coming, Provost Jarvie's Coach is coming. Little wat ye wha's coming, Now the King himsel's coming. There's Plaids enow, and Mauds coming, Bonny Border Lads coming ; How you stare, ye jaud, woman. To see their braw Cockades coming. Little wat ye wha's coming, Young Buccleuch and a's coming. The great Macallan more 's coming. The Thane and tiie Strathmore's coming, 84 A bddy canna snore, woman, A' tlicir pibrochs squccling, bumming. Little wat ye wlia's coming, WarlJ and Wife, and a's coming. Auld Reekie's turnVl a daft woman, There's craze in every craft, woman ; And troth ifs a' but weel-becoming, Now the King himscfs coming. Little ken ye wha's coming. King and Kilt, and a's coming. STANZAS rOR THE king's LANDING. I. The eagle screams upon Bcnmore, The wild deer bounds on Cheviot ftij ; Step boldly, King, on Albyn's shore. Son of her Lords, she greets thee well. 85 The voice that haUi been silent long, Awakes to harbinger thy path ; Once more she weaves the ancestral song. Once more 'tis " Rich gu Brath."" II. IVom grey Dun-Edin's castle crest, Float, float, thou Royal Banner wide, Gleam, gleam more radiant than the rest, Dear emblem of old Albyn's pride ! Glow, ruddy lion, as of yore It was thy wont^ on fields of wrath, To brighten 'midst the kindling roar Of Canmorc's " Righ gu Brath." III. Beam, beam, as when our hero's cry Dissolved thy slumber of despair, And rais'd thee, sun-like, from our sky The cloud of slavery to scare. 86 Aye— as from out the dark Torwood, The stranger saw thy blazon shine, Wlien Wallace steeped the folds in blood, And flung them from the pine. IV. High sign ! as when the coming galley Of Bruce displayed thee o'er the prow, And on indignant hill and valley Roused Carrick spear and Arran bow. Beam now — or as, when calm and stern. He fixed thee in yon sacred stone, Unslung the mace for Bannockburn, And bade the trump be blown. No ! sacred symbol, float as free — As bright be thy majestic glance,- But gentle all thy splendour be ; No terror tinge the cognizance a7 Beam softly, star of cluvahy, As when proud Windsor's exile came To bless, on Scottish tower and tree, The welcome of thy flame. VI. Or beam, (but bar each worser omen,) As when the lilied bark drew nigh, And courteous knights and stalwart yeomen Tvnelt here— even Jiere,-^'neaih Mary's eye. The feudal rage, the zealot gloom. That quenched the day of that fair morn, Lie chained together in the tomb Of unrelenting scorn. VII. Another dawn I scarce may name. Saw thee, for princely greeting, g!ow ; In evil hour a wanderer came ; For once, thou wert the sign of woe : 88 Yet then, even then, diere was no shame To stamp the stain of tears and blood ; And generous memory mourns to blame The errors of the good. vui. Float fairly from Dun-Edin's brow, Primeval pennon of his fathers — Nor tears nor blood shall stain thee now. No gloom around thy blazon gather*. From Saxon firm and fiery Gael, From moor and mart, from cot and hall, One voice-— one heart— goes forth, to hail The King— the Sire of All ! IX. Though with the Scottish stream be met The blood of Kings that were not mine. Though D'Este and Plantagenct Have blended with the Brucc's line, 89 The spirit of departed time Is in the song that meets thy path, And Hfts once more in Albyn's clime The shout of " High gu Brath." X. The crown that circled Bruce's helm, Once more the Douglas' hand shall raise ; The sword that rescued Brace's realm Be guarded by the De la Hayes. The children of the heath and yew Come harnassed down from glen and strath, Plant oer their crests the White and Blue, And swell the " Righ gu Brath." SONG. T LWE, — •' Jti Id Lungsjns . " AuLD Scotland's got her King again, And Embro's causeways shine, 90 Wi" lords and ladies in his train, As they did langsyne, Like auld langsyne, my bairns, Like auld langsyne, She's mourned his absence mony a day, Since auld langsyne. A hearty welcome to our land ! Great Prince o"" Scottish line, Wi' you we'll fa' — wi' you we'll stand, Like Scotsmen langsyne. Like auld langsyne, my bairns. Like auld langsyne, " Let Whig and Tory all agree,'' And think o' langsyne. When bonny Mary touch 'd our shore, Our sires the beach did line. And her hard fate we still deplore, As thev did la- 91 Since auld langsyne, ray bairns, Since auld langsyne, Auld Scotland's warstlcd up the brae, Since auld langsyne. When Jamie left auld Holyrood Our fathers did repine ; She's had a lonely widowhood Since auld langsyne. Since auld langsyne, my bairns, Since auld langsyne, Auld Scotland has stood mony a brush Since auld langsyne. Come, Arthur, raise your lighted crest, Make a' the Loudons shine. And tell we've got a Royal Guest, As we had langsyne. As we had langsyne, my bairns, As we had langsyne ; 92 The ''Glide King Robert' wore our crowa In days o' langsyne. AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG, BY DR JAMES SCOTT, GLASGOW. As I gaed doim the High Street, I heard the hammers ring, And all tlie talk, on every walk, was loud about tiie King; Wooden scaffolds rose o'er scaffolds unto the ceiling's brink, And folks walked to-and-fro, as thick as bum -bees in a bink. I looked up to the C!astle, and what a glorious show Of pointed guns, and soldiers tents, as white as driven snow ; 93 And to-and-fro on capering steeds the Yeomen did ride, With pistols in each holster, and Fcrrara'^s at eftch side. Beliold, the Scottish Archers, did leave the Castle's gloom, With Robin's belt and tartan frock, yew bow, and eagle plume ; And the Provost in his coach-and-six, sae golden- tinged and new. With the Scottish croun beside him did come pran- cing into view. Oh, royal croun ! it has been thine a long sleep and a soun", But to your ancient home in pomp thou art escort- ed doun : Upon his empty state room, Captain Ferguson may gaze. But a Monarchs brow for you to deck is sure a fit- ter place. 94 Tliere are welcome buttons on each coat, and favours on each liat, Decked with St Andrew's Silver Cross, and St Andrew bearing that ; The waistcoats a^ are drifted snaw, the trowsers of nankeen ; Oh ! by my country's patron Saint, such sight was never seen. And all the nobles of the realm haye to Dun-Edin come. Tap-rooms, taverns, tontines, and hotels are packit to the lum ; And while upon a LowlandLord in extacy you muse. You are jostled by a Highland Laird, who struts in tartan trews. On Arthur''s Seat the beacon fire is bio-git black and high, AVith what a glare on all below, 'twill light the mid- night sky, 95 The Calton-hill is sprinkled o'er with cannon and marquees, And tents and guns on Salisbury Crags look back, and Seoul on these. Was never such a glorious sight ! — oh, sureournoble King, 'Twill cheer right heartily, to see the grandeur of the thing, Dun-Edin's cockernony it is buskit braw and high, She smiles upon her castled piles, and spires that cleave the sky. Then the welcome let us drink of our Monarch to our shore, 'Tis lone: indeed, since she has had an honour such before, Lot us drink a speedy Landing at the gallant Pier of Leith ; And comfortable quarters in the Palace o' Dalkeith. 9G When ho comes to Royal Holy rood, aScQttisIi Court to hold, Flock round him Scotland"'s darling sons, the loyal, wise, and bold. And ere to England's vallics green again he journies back, Shout forth ye tens of thousands, till half your voices crack ! So shall old Albyn still be called the honest, bold, and true, In peace be peaceful, and in war the staunchest of the blue. So shall we not dishonour the bright memory of our sires, But show that in their childrens breast, still glow their ancient fires ! 97 STANZAS, SUNG OX THE EVENING BEFORE THE KINg's LANDING.* Now bumper your glasses, brave boys, brave boys, I'm sure that youll empty them too ; Oh, well in such Son may old Scotland rejoice, For his equal go search the earth thro' ; 'Tis his in her honour to shine and surpass ; To enoblc the name of the Scot ; Oh, ne"'er when in friendship we send round the glass. Be the name of Sir Walter forgot, My brave boys, Be the fame of Sir Walter forgot ! 'O His cenius has over our bleak barren chme. Shed a halo of glory around, * It was on this evening tbat Sir Vt'alter Scott presented to his Majesty the epiendid Cross;— an offering from the Beauty of Scotland. 98 Our vallics of verdure, and mountains sublime. At his touch have become classic ground : 'J'hen, hail to Sir Walter, the pride of our land, x\nd long may he flourish to sing, The atchievements of clansmen, aye ready to stand, To stand by, or fall for their King, My brave boys. To spend their heart's blood for their King. Then Avelcome, great Monarch ! Dun-Edin shall raise Her greetings of loyalty proud, And forward Sir Walter, our pride and our praise To thee shall step forth from the crowd ; To tell thee that Scotland, the loyal and free, Thrice welcomes her King to her shore, To tell thee her offspring rejoices to see Her Holyrood peopled once more. My brave boys. Our own Holyrood sinning once more ! 09 VERSES SUNG ON 12th august, 1822. Here are we met a jovial band, The loyal, staunch, and true are we, The brim-filled glass in every hand, The spark o' joy in every e'e ; We are nae fou — we'll sune be fou — Fou as pipers we a' maun be, Then hey, let us sing, " long life to our King Fu' mony a birth-day may he see !" Through mony a lang blithe year to come, The bliss o' peace may Britain see. And hallowed thro' its every home, The happy twelth of August be ! We are nae fou, &c. While we have feet whereon to stand. While we have liquor gude to pree. While we can baud the glass in hand. We'll drink his health in three times three .' We are nae fou, &c. 100 Confusion to the raffish crew, — Grand botheration may they dree ; Tlie King wha won us Waterloo, Can ne'er on earth forgotten be ! We are nae fou, &c. LOVE AND LOYALTIE. SUNG AT A SELECT PARTY, MET ON THE EVE OP HIS majesty's arrival. Thex here*'s a health to our noble Kiner, And Margaret, here's a health to thee ; Wha love and loyaltie, wud disjoin, Is sure nae worthy liere to be ! For love and loyaltie's aye been ane, Hae aye been ane and aye shall bie, Then here's a health to our Noble King, And Margaret, here's a health to thee ! The rose is lovely on its stalk, And sac is Margaret's form to me ; 101 Slu-'s leal to th' troth she vow'd to keep, And Fm leal to her and loyaltie. For love and loyaltie's aye been anc, &c. The Thistle wi' its lordly head, The Shamrock drooping modestHe ; And the bonny face o' th' Rose sae red, Are types o' her and constancy. For love and loyaltie's aye been ane, &c, She went to greet her noble King, And as his foot cam' off the sea ; While thunders caused the welkin' ring, I watched the tear com' in her e'e. For love and loyaltie's aye been ane, &c. It was na' for his Kinglie form, It is na' that his power we dree ; But, for the love he bears us a'. We'd fain repay wi' loyaltie. 102 Vov love and loyaltie's aye been ane, Hac aye been ane, and aye shall be, Then here's a health to our noble King, And Margaret, here's a health to thee. LOYALTY VANQUISHED BY LOVE. A SONG, ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF " Wat ye whas in yon toun^ I HURRIED down to yon toun. Though I had little time to spare ; Yet duty ca'd to yon toun, To meet my royal Sovereign there, The boisterous wind blew loud and strange, The sea was rowin' mountains hie, ]My heart was fain— I lookit lang For him I came sae far to see. 103 But ere he came to yon toun, I met a maiden young an sweet,. Her like was no in yon toun, Though beauty blazed in ilka street : There's witchery in her face sae fair. There's glamour in her glancin' een ; About the King I thought nae mair— Enough that I had found a Queen. The cannon raired in yon toun. Till echo rang in ilka neuk ; But safter sounds in yon toun. My soul wr strong emotion shook ; Tho' saft the siller streamlet fa's. My Emma's words mair saftly fell, — Sweet as the breeze that lightly blaws, Where dew-draps deck the heather bell While a' the fowk in yon toun Ran out the gaudy show to see. 104> The loveliest sight in yon toun, Was Emma's dark love.dartin' e'e; Some kneeled, their Monarch's hand to kiss. An' deemed the banquet was divine ; But I had nobler, richer bliss, When Emma's lip was pressd to mine Ye lawland lords in yon toun,— Ye kilted clans, frae Highland glen, — Ye burghers bra\ in yon toun, Wha mix amang the courtly train, Gac back an' bow for straps an strings, An' cock your heads in titled pride ; I never thought of crowns an' kings, Wi' Emma smilin' by my side. O I'll gang back to yon toun, Altho' the King be o er tne sea ; The Queen of love's in yon tcun. An' she may blithely blink on me : 105 The King is welcome to my store ; For him in fight I stand or fa' ; But Emma's in my bosom's core — My latest breath for her I'll draw A. B. BALLAD ON THE king's visit, SAID TO BE WRITTEN BY MISS MACDONNELL OF GLENGARRY. AuLD Scotia now her Sons does ca, Frae rocky glen and birken shaw. She cries, make haste, and come awa', And meet your King in the morning. CHORUS. Come, ilka Son o' Scotia, come. Come, ilka maid in beauty's bloom. — Shame fa' the carle that winna come, On sic a joyous morning. 106 Come a' yc noble house o' Perth, Stand forth and show your ancient worth, Come a' ye Campbells o"" the North, And meet your King in the morning. Come, ilka Son, 8ic. Come, Macdonnell, wi' your Clan, Bring them frae Glengarry's glen ; Macgregor, muster a' your men. And meet your King in the morning. Come, ilka Son, &c. Auld Scotia's voice, so hale and shrill, Has sounded now o'er ilka hill. And a' her Bairns wi' right good will, Start to their feet in the morning. Come, ilka Son, &c. Now, every Clan o' noble birth, Frae Johnny Groat's, far i' the North, 107 Are marching South to cross the Forth, their King in the M Come, ilka Son, &c. To hail their King in the Morning 'J And when his Barge shall touch the shore, A"" ye who wear the broad claymore, Be steady, as in days o' yore, And guard your King in the morning. Come, a' ye bairns o' Scotia, come ;— Come, a' ye bells o' Scotia, ring ; Come, Pipers, play the Highland-fling ; The King has come this morning. THE KING S ANTHEM. AVITH ADDITIONAL LINES, BY R. '^V. George's street, newhaven. Fame, let thy Trumpet sound. Tell all the world around, Great George is King. 108 Tell Rome, and France, and Spain, Biitannia scorns their chain All their vile arts are vain — Great George is King. He, peace and plenty brings, Wliile Rome's deluded Kings Wastes and destroys. May, choicest blessings shed. On his most sacred head. And make him eyer glad, — God save the King. O, may his fame survive, Whilst men are still alive And truth remains. And may his race descend, Till time shall have an end, And may kind heaven defend — Great George our King. 109 ON THE KING'S VISIT TO EDINBURGH, 1822, BY JOHN DALZIKL. Rapture beams in Scotia's eye ! Fervent is her heart's devotion ,• — Soon she'll raise her voice on high, T' hail her King with warm devotion. Edina's Bards, begin the song ! He comes ! — the King of love's election ; Let echo loud the rhyme prolong, In loud responses of affection. Though here apart, unheard, I sing. My thoughts disjoiu'd— uncouth my measure, I've served my Country and my King, And share in Scotia's pride and pleasure. Vain boast ! — what heart that will not share ? Ile'l! here receive a Crown of duty no Tlie great and good for him prepare A Throne of wisdom, strength and beauty - And Scotia''s children he'll regard, With a father's exultation ; O hear the prayer all haye prepared, " God save the King to bless the Nation ["" Edina's Bards begin the song I He comes ! — the King of love''s election ; — Wake, echoes ! and the theme prolong ; In loud responses of affection. THE GENIUS OF SCOTLAND, RECEIVING HIS MAJESTY, GEORGE THE FOURTH. Air—" IFkistle o'er the lave fyf." Welcome King of Britain's Isle, Where Lord and peasant gently toil Ill To cultivate their native soil, Thrice welcome for the sake o't. T ho' high and rugged be our hills, Yet sweet are Scotia's wimplin' rills. An' in her glens gang Whisky Stills, Thrice welcome to partake o't. Her Sons are hardy, leil, an' true, An' stick to George as firm as glue, This France can tell at Waterloo, We glory in our share o't. Thank Heaven thy race is on the throne, Nae reason hae we now to moan, " God save the King," plays pipe and drone. An' we would aye hae mair o't. To tell, O Sire ! our deeds o' yore, When Denmarli England's standard bore. 112 An' dyed her fields in deepest gore, Wc weep to tell the lave o't. Still we retained our ancient rights, An' put to flight these weary wights. Now some of them are Britain's knights. Our glory now the share o't. See yon bright castle beaming far, Like some brave veteran grey in war, Which gave to birth Auld Scotia's Star, The bravest o' the brave o't. Yes.— James ! Queen Mary's darling child, Wha's race was ever meek an' mild. Whom man nor woman ne'er beguiPd, The fairest o' the fair o't. Now, since King George is on our shore, Let voice an' cannon loudly roar, 113 For peace an' plenty we've in store, WeVe happy for the sake o't. Welcome King of Britain's Isle, &c. THE KING'S WELCOME TO SCOTLAND, WRITTEN PBEVIOUS TO HIS MA.TESTy's LANDING AT LEITH, BV IIOBERT WIGHT. The Whigs and Torys a' agree. To welcome him wi' mirth and glee, Nae farther discord shall ye see, The welcome news are true. Five hundred men 'tis understood. Now mak' a road to Holyrood, And for the King it must be gude. The welcome news are true, H 114 And Tradesmen I have heard them say. Received an order Either day, To mak' the Palace neat an' gay. The welcome news are true. The bold and noble young Buccleugh, Kind Lothian and Montague, Will gi' him Dalkeith Palace too. It's beauties are nae few. And tho' that Scotia is ca'd poor. Her hardy Sons are true I'm sure. And for the King they ^ill procure, Whatever's rare and new. We'll dress ourselves in kilt and hose, The dress so dreaded by our foes, The King will now taste Scotia's brose. Right wholesome food I true. The Highlanders are comin' here, Before the King they will appear, 115 They're men who never heard o' fear, They fought at Waterloo. Wr bannet blue and tartan hose, Wi' steady step they met their foes, Wi' hands o' steel they dealt their blows, That day at Waterloo. The gallant Grey's are come this way. Each horseman mounted looks sae gay, They mind me o' that glor'ous day. The day o' Waterloo. And many a gallant band beside, To guard his Majesty, will ride. And Chiefs and Clans dress'd in their pride. Will muster, there's nae few. Obedient to Sir John's* command, The Yeomanry shall be at hand, * Sir John Hope, Bart. Lieut.-Color.el or the Royal Mid I><:thian Cavalry. 116 That loyal and right trusty band Will dress themselves in blue. For every Yeoman loves his King, His sacred name they toast and sing. And every echo loud shall ring, The King, and Yeomen true. And happy Scotia's Bards will sing, The welcome visit of her King, And soon may gentle breezes bring His Royal Fleet in view. Wi' ribbands white as driven sna'. We'll wave him welcome ane an"" a'. And drink his health baith great an' sma' In whisky pure as dew. Our lads and lasses on the street, Will a' appear sae clean and neat. For they'll be drcss'd frae head to feet, In claise tliat's splinter new. 117 The Nobles will join in the train, Auld Scotia's honour to maintain, Long live the King, long may he reign, O'er a' his subjects true. THE KING'S WELCOME TO EDINBURGH ; BY A COUNTRY SHEPHERD, HIS WIFE, AND DAUGHTER. A TRUE TALE. BY R. HOWDEN. As honest thrifty Mattie Gray Was sitting busy spinning, She looked out, and doun the brae Saw Robin barefoot rinning. Then up and to the door she sprang, And lang ere he came near her, She cries out, " Robin, what is wrang ?" But Robin didna hear her. 4 118 As he was briisliing o'er tlic bent, And skclping through the rashes, Had left behind his plaid and kent, His shoon and spatterdashes. The brig was twa-three yards about, That lay across the syke ; Ikit he plash'd through abune the spout, And lap the kail-yard dyke. " O what's the matter, Robin, man ?" Quo' IMatt, " What's a' the hurry?' Half breathless, he replied, " A'm gaun- A'm gaun to Edinburry. Gae 'way, lay out my linen sark, And a' my Sunday claes, Jock ! pit the ewes in Nicol's park. That's gaun on Wilmoor braes. 119 And, Saiidie, gang — take Gethcr w-'ycv See a' the lambs be right ; Let them fa' 'yont the Thrashie Lee, And fauld them again night. Ye'll get a piece 'gain afternoon ; And, Grizzy, take the bairn, Gae ye a-field, fetch liame ma shoon, They're up at Kebuck's cairn." « The man's gane skevie," mutter'd Matt, Wha partly heard his sonnet, As she was taking down his hat. And hanging up his bonnet : For though she answered his demands. As well became her station. Her tongue gaed faster than her hands, In quest o' information. 120 " YeVe gaun to Edinbro', dear man, And gaun in sic a haister, And div'e ken for what ye're gaun, Is't ony sad disaster ? Would ye but mind ye're up in years, And if there''s ony riot, YeVe no acquaint wi' swords and spears, To make a tumult quiet. Is it a cause o** life and death ? Or is't a bridal hurry ? Or, if the case respects us baith. We'll baith to Edinburry. O, weigh the matter wi' yoursel, I'll gl'e ye a' ye're seeking, If yc wou'd tell — yes, a wou'd tell. If ye would hadsae speaking."" 121 Quo' Robin, somewhat chagrin''d At Mattie's want o"" patience, " I'm gaun away to see a friend- A friend to baith the nations. The King o' Lunnon's landed there. And mony hunder wi' him, Droving hke stots to Hallow fair,— And a'ra gaun in to see him. As I came dovm the drechy moor, A heard the coaches dunner, And auld and young, and rich and poor, Gaun reeling in like thunner. Auld Simon Baxter''s o'er the sneep As hard as he can hobble, And Willy's alF and left his sheep Wi' little Tammie Noble. 1S2 Jock's left the plough at Farnie-corse, And afF like Tullochgorum ; The goodman came and loosed the horse, And drave them hame afore hmi. And Grizzy Bell's gane doun the slack, As dink as ony deasy, The callant Sandie on her back, And leading little Lizy. And a' intend to join them soon, — Hear how the drums are beating ! Gi'e me my gravit and my shoon, And dinna haud me waiting." " Aye, aye," quo' Matt, " is that the tiling ? His Honour, peace be wi' us ! A'm very glad to hear the King Has come so far to see us. 123 But gang na ye to sic a job, That's ae advice I've gi'en ye, Ye may be crushed aniang the mob, YeVe stifFer than a\e seen ye : Ye're no sae young as Will and Jock, Sim's daft as he wha gat him, The King's a man like ither folk, And what will ye see at him ?"" " See at him, dear ! ye little ken," Quo' Rob, her words repeating, " The king a man like other men ! Na ; he's the King o' Britain. So, Mattie, lass, suppress your fears, jMy age, though ye may doubt it. Has loupen back a score o' years Sin' a heard tell about it. 1S4 To see a King on Scottish ground Is now an unco wonder ; A day like this has no come round Sin' some time saxteen hunder. Time was when Kings in Scottish towns Were counted little fcrlies, So lang's the Stuarts brook'd their crowns, The Jamies and the Charlies. And that ane Alex, Oh ! sad wreck ! Gaed out to hunt eae morn, Fell aff his horse, and brack his neck, Just right abune Kinghorn. And David Bruce, at Hawthorndean, Spent muckle gowd an siller, And Mary (puir misguided Queen !) Ance lived at Crais-millar. 125 But Lambert cruel was and base, And Jaraie Sharp was cunnin. And aye since their unhappy days. Our kings hae dwalt at Lunnon." «' Aweel," quo' Matt, " that may be true. But though yeVe on your claes, A wadna gang if a were you, — A'm nane o' Geordie's faes. A wish him brawly, honest man, And a' his Lunnon gentry, There's aye been peace sin' he began, And plenty i' the country. Well may they treat him i' the town, And gi'e him braw attendance, And lang may he support his crown, And Britain's independence. 126 But then sae mony fo'lc gaun in, And you amang the rabble, They'll cleave his honour wi"* their din, And may be raise a babble : A heap o' fo'k like you and me, The chicld, aweel a wat him, Will take it very ill to see Them stan'in staring at him. How wad we like oursels to see A hauf a score o' bunders, Come here to glowr at you and me. As we were warld's wonders ? 'Tis no for poor folk he's come down, Their presence can be wanted, Ye'll make disturbance i' the town. And we'll be a' affronted. 127 Though ye may hke to see the King, Yet, Robin, let me tell ye, The sight will do but little thing For either back or belly. Ye'll ha'e reflections on yourseP, If that ye dinna speed well. And a'll gae daft when a hear tell That yeVe laid up in Bridewell." « Hout out," quo' Rob, " he'll tak' it kind, Gudewife, ye needna doubt him, To see us a', wi' heart and mind, Hadin' a wark about him. It shews respect, wer't naething else, The great folk count it handsome. And they'll be seized for radicals That disnae countenance him. 128 So, Mattie, mind, that I'm gudeman. And let us hear nae mair o't There will be royal presents gaun^ And a"* may get a share o't. The King's a man o' muclde gear, Baith siller, meat, and claething, And div'e think that he'll come here And gi'e his subjects naething ? Poor fo^ks hae raony time been kcnt For some bit simple favour, Frae Kings to get an yearly rent, To them and theirs for ever. Look only back to Malcolm's days, A man without a marrow ; Ga'e Hunter a' Palmoodie braes, Just for a bow and arrow. 120 And at a date mair recent still, When Pringle was sac lucky As get the lands o' Soutrie Hill, Just for a roasted chuckie. And a' your lairds and gentlemen, As braw as ye liae seen them, Hae no a rijr o"" land in ten But what the Kine; has I'll see the King, or I be dead. Whatever may betide o't, quo' she. Whatever may betide o't. Gudewife, what's that ? — I hear a noise. Sounds through the lift like thunner ; And hear that shout o' thousands rise, Gars a' the bigging dunner. It maun be Geordie come at last ; See how the crowd are runnin"', — 1 11 out and welcome him myser— Hurra for Geordie cumin', quo' he, Hurra for Geordie cumin' .' 153 THE KING'S WELCOME TO SCOTLAND. A Nero Sang to an Auld Tune. And are ye sure the news is true ? And is he come ashore ? Gae spread the banners red and blue, And bid the cannons roar. For there's muckle luck about tiie house, There's muckle glee and game, There's ilka pleasure i' the house When our gude man's at hame. Then haste an' mak' an unco stir, An' clear the gate to him ; Gae welcome Geordie to his ain, Wi' a' thing neat an trim. For there's. Sic. And lasses braid in silken snood, Wi' lover knots your hair, 154. And wait him at the Holyrood, For he's to greet you there. For there's, &c. Ca' Highland Harry frae the height, And « Sandy o'er the Lea," Let Jock and Patie get a sight, For they'll be wud to see. For there's, &c. Gae burn the peat-stack on the knowc, Set a' the hills on flame— And cast your crosses i' the low, To welcome Geordie hame. For there's, &c. Then quickly sing' a braw sheep's head, And snezel weel the nose- Let haggies grace the table head Wi' caps o' Athol brose. For there's, &c. 155 And mak' his bed o' eider down, The sheets o** driven snaw ; An' may his rest be sweet and soun', For he's been lang awa\ For there's, Sic. FERGUSSON AND BURNS; OR THE poet's REVERIE. 'Tis solemn night — the weary City sleeps, AVhile pale abroad the feverish Poet strays Exulting now, and now deprest he weeps. Still spider like upon himself he preys. With listless step, scarce conscious where he roams, The thinking dreamer wastes the hours of rest; Now drops the eye on shadowy towers and domes, As lone he muses on the Cal ton's crest. No voice is heard, except the lulling sound Of Forth's sea-billows roiling faint and slow : 156 While cloudless skies, like mirrors ranged around. Seem to reflect the clustering lamps below. When lo, there seems, array 'd in rude attire, A form arising, awkward and uncouth ; On which descends a soul of heavenly fire, Then shines the figure in eternal youth. On it his eye the living Poet turns ; He shrinks to nought, yet glories as he looks ; Some instinct in him whispers, There stands Burns, The bee of nature, not the moth of books. The mien is proud, but pensive seems his mood, Pale, pale the cheek, by griefs and care d estroy'd ; His tearful eye alights on Holyrood, He starts, exults, and strides along o''erjoy'd ; Till from the rock he casts a glance below, Taught by the tablet which in life he rear'd ; 157 " Puir Feegusson !" he sigh'd, « piilr Bob !" when lo! The turf roird back, and Fergusson appeared. To others arms th' immortal spirits rush, Alike their feehngs, failings, and desires, They climb the crags — along the steep they brush, l^en sitting down,, thus strike their native lyres. BUENS. I'm thinking Rob yeVe come like me, To snuff tlie caller air a wee, Yer house, like mine, I fancy's sma', Which maks the breath there ill to draw. Great changes here sin' ninetj^-six Whan aiF I pack'd frae Doune to Styx ; Rare on-gauns here sin' seventy-four, Whan death summ'd up yer lawen score. Now a' the Kintra's ta'en the bees. An' skelps to town and gars it blceze ; 158 They rin, shout, sweat, address, and kneel ; Kiss, feast, drink, dance, and play the De'il. FERGUSSON. I'ine doings, true — what glorious streets, Lawns, gardens, villas, docks, and fleets ! What Kintra's this, what City's that, Which sits as auncient Athens sat ? I m daft, or dream, or yonder stand Auld Reekie and her castle grand. There"'s Arthuu''s scat, by a' that's good ; Beneath the Craigs there's Holyrood ; An' lighted up, an' guards I see, An' tartans too, I'm crazed wi glee. At len^jth has Chaulie srot his ain — God bless the Stuart and his reign ! BURNS. I've roos'd the Stuart in my time, I pitied them— was that a crime ? 159 My fathers for their fathdrs bled, Sae for the son the tear I shed ; But now a King the throne possesses, Wham ilka honest Briton blesses. The son o' him wha in our day Held upright though divided sway. Now India's ours, ower that domain A countless people bless his reign ; Amans: the far Atlantic Isles The slave enfranchised by him smiles, The foes o' England owe to him Protection and their diadem ; To him ilk State o' Europe owes Deliverance frae the warst of foes. That warst o' tyrants to him flew. An' own'd the noblest foe he knew, Nae king that's ruled the triple kingdom In sterling glory ever ding'd him ; An' now Auld Ileekie in his presence In Holyrood pays glad obeisance. IGO l&HGUSSON. Ye scorn'd to flatter whan in breath. An' daurna flatter after death ; Ycr independent stamach scorn''d T' adorn what worth had not adorn'd, To gild the brass o' human mould, To represent its soUd gold, Plate vices base and tilings abhorrent. An' by the forgery mak them current ; Strike up then, frien"', ' God save the King,' Wha taks the opprcst beneath his wing, Beats down the Tyrant reigns for ithers, A Kinjj like this maks nations brithers. I used to sing the thistle springs. In domicile o' auncient Kings, But now, Auld Reekie, " cock yer fud," The Kixg's come hame, yer bairns rin wud ; Lano- wish'd and look'd for now is come. An' a' the blnk is in a bum ; Whan Scotland likes, her likes are Strang, Wlian Scotland hates, her hates are lang ; 161 I ken her weel, gin she deserve it, He'll tak her favour and preserve it. BURNS. The favour''s gain'd and fairly won, ]3ut Scotland soon maun lose her Sun, To Southron lands he backwards glides, But still his influence here resides ; Though distant, yet wi' radiance mild. His beams will gild our mountains wild. Pierce our dun glens, illume our lands, An' warm their patriotic bands. Ye slept the sleep while nightly I Cam'' forth wi' keen inquiring eye, Aft mingling viewless in the joys O' rare Auld Reekie's ran tin boys ; Aft wishing, wearying to be man T' express the thoughts that through me ran j To vent the tide that boil'd alang ; And steaming rose in floods o' sang, 1C2 To paint the Monarch moorM at Leitli : His hat first deck'd wi' Scotia"'s heath, The cross o' Scotland on his breast ; O be that honour'd emblem blest ! My Kintra's daughters nobly done, To send sic gift by sic a son ; To paint the barge ap})roach the pier^. Re-echo Scotland"'s welcome cheer. As on the shore her Kixg returns, The warmth that in her welcome bums. See sailors on their yards and booms, Doors, windows, roofs, where beauty blooms, 'Mid gaudy streamers, flags, and plumes. Steeds prance, pipes skirl, claymores are flash- ing* Banners waving, cannons crashing ; Drums are rolling, trumpets sounding ; Bands are playing, hearts are bounding ; Flaided archers — tartan'd Celts, Grand dragoons, and clans in kilts , 163 Gorgeous Heralds, Courtiers gay, Nobles swell the proud array. The Royal Carriage a' escorting, Transported a\ and a"* transporting ; Iiespcct an"" order round about, An' meaning in the meanest shout. I sigh'd to paint the scene when first On Royal een A.uld Reekie burst, When winding eastward frae the Square, Whole myriads seem''d built up in air ; The noblest pyramid, I ween, That ever blest a Monakch's een : When he, ©""ercome, wi' hat in hand. Rose up, exclaimed, " My God, 'tis grand !'' And cheer'd his people, 'twas a time Ennobling, brilliant, and sublime The hill arose, retum'd the ctieer In thunders on the Monarch's ear ; The tear stood globing in his ee, ril swear he felt like you or me. 1 ycarn"'d to paint that Chief o*' splendours, A King amid his best defenders ; A people loyal, faithful, free, Who love alike the glorious three— Their Kintra, King, and Liberty ! The Stcjart Tartan round him flowing. Our ain Regalia on him glowing, The loveliest o' God's lovely race Uefore him bent in blushing grace ; The gams o*" hame by lang report. Now brilliants in a brilliant court ; To paint him on Dun Edin's crest, The cannon thundVing east and west. The rocks re-echoing, Craigs rebounding. The Calton roaring, Roads resounding ; The mountains round, the town beneath ; The Forth beyond, and hills o' heath. Surprise and pleasure shew the man. The King is dropt, his hat's in h^n', 'Tis waved in air, and fired wi' ^eal, 165 Ten thousand cheer and wish hlni weel. He's charm'd with a' the crowd ; they bizz ; He's touch'd the chord that maks them his. But stop, I smell the mornin' breeze. An' I maun afF to far Dumfries. I pined neglected — sorrowed, starved. But what o' that, my tombstone's carved. FERGUSSON. Ah, Burns, farewell — I wail yer doom, But envy not yer splendid tomb Mair honour'd I by yon grey stane ; Behold the trophy, 'tis yer ain. C. B. PART II. Again the Poet shuns the bed of sleep, Now roaring storms allure him to the hill ; To raving winds his heart is wont to leap, Suns make it torpid, and gay cities chili. :^^ 1C6 Ho loves the gloom, it suits his sacldoii'd soul ; He hails the tempest, for it mates his mind; The dread night thunders rouse him as they roll, And wake a rapture alien to his kind. The gay green rose-tree sips the summcr"'s showers, lle-opes its buds, and blossoms to the day ; But, wrench'dfrom earth, behold ihccurlingflowers Imbrown'd and blasted on their shrivelling spray. Like it, alas ! hope's vernal bud appear — The flower expands — it opens but to fade — Alas ! for life is but an arctic year — A fleeting spring — a winter long dtlay'd. His step again is up the Gallon's steep ; There howls the night-gale, through the wikls of air. In search of prey. How dreadful on the deep ! It brings him transport, but some wretch despair. 167 The mustVing clouds their darksome march pursue Before the ga!^, they trundle through the gloom ; The wild winds rend them, and the eye darts through, Where moon and stars yon upper blue-illumc. The rays burst down — along the hill they scud — Create a City where dark chaos reign'd ; Stream o er its roofs, in an illumined flood — A glorious sight ; but lost as soon as gain'd, The monarch Castle, throned upon the rock. Looks grandly down upon its subject Town ; Around the vassal hills the light mists smoke, The cloud is closed, at once the pomp is flown. His seat the sod beneath the cliffy skreen ; The thought-fraught gazer sighs as all is lost ; Compares to that this sublunary scene — A chaos gilded by a gleam at most. 168 'Twas thus lie mused, wlien full before him streamed The late seen forms of Fergusson and Burns ; Fire tipt their lips, and lambent round them beam'd, As thus they struck the Scottish Lyre by turns : — BURNS. If wae to part, weVe fain to meet — To welcome i'rien's we like, how sweet ! An' sweeter nine times out o' ten, If maids they prove instead of men. To prie the lips o' her we lo'e, Is bliss denied to me an" you ; To press her blushing to the breast, Is rapture barr'd e'en to the blest ; For fear, perhaps^ the heaven we knew In woman's love should mar the new, The Poet's soul all o'er and o'er, Is nature to " the benmost bore !" 169 His loves in life sae deep are fixt, Their embers smoulder in the next ; Yet nane could meet me here this e"'en— My Mary's shade, my living Jean— Mair welcome, Fergusson, than you— Sae meets the drooping blade the dew. FERGUSSON. It's kindly said, man — 'tis my pride To range wi' you the valley's side ; Ascend the peak, wi' you to gaze On scenes that mock e'en Poets' praise, Whare moory wilds beneath us lie, Lochs brooding sit, and rivers fly ; Whare milky torrents flash, an' thunder Down rocks they seem to rive asunder The plunging cat'racts, smooth as oil, Now burst an' writhe, an' roar an' boil — Whare billowy hills, dark surging, soar Through smoking clouds, an' twinkle o'er 170 Their fitfu' summits freatli'd wi' snaw, Now burst aboon — now melt awa' ; Here naked, as frae nature's hand, Gigantic, bold, and sternly grand. Aft kiss'd by clouds that wanton by, An' curling round them, wi' them die ; There ash, oak, larch, an' hazels green, Around them throw a plaided sheen ; While oVr their crests, pines darkly wave, Like plumes on bonnets o' the brave. Beneath them, rare to human ken. Some horrid rock-encinctur'd glen, The mountain genii's gloomy den, Nae house, nor field, nor hedge in view. But yawning hills, an' hills seen through ; Wide tawny moors, whare naething cheers, Whare rarely e'en the hut appears — Black, lonesome, drear, as if 'twas placed. By desolation, 'mid the waste ; The black-cock craws in sunny weather. 171 The grouse rin clucking 'mang the heather The sheep, the cattle on the hill, Are heard, perhaps — a' else is still ; Unless, perchance, amid the cloud. Some clifF-lodgcd eagle scream aloud — 'Mid scenes like thae, sae still and dreary, Wi' you beside me, I'd ne'er weary. I lo'e ye. Burns — ye\e ta'en my heart ; I would we never mair wad part ; I wish yer grave by mine had been, Our dust to mingle there unseen, As now our thoughts and fancies blend ; There pleased, I'd rest me till the end. This warld an' me uncaring parted — Unheeding it — I broken-hearted, Enirenzied, mock'd, an' unadmired. Then lucre only was desired ; Then gilded fools to idols grew, The Genius-God, but own'd by few ; The golden Calf, that men had raised, A lane was sanctified and praised. 172 But truce wi' this — 'Tis but a day- Sin' here we met, and a way gay ; Auld Reekie swarmin'' Uke a Lun*on, An' crazed wi' Carnival an' fiinnin"' ; Now streets an' squares, an' rock an' hill, The roads, the Palace, a' are still ; My heart misgi'es me, Scotland's seen Her proudest day, her grandest scene ; She sinks already into gloom — I'll back for ever to my tomb. BURNS. An' this is Scotland's fate — why, Rob, Whare bums the bee without a blob ? This land, industrious as the bee. Pursues, like it, its task wi' glee ; Its sweets augments, its pose increases. Though Ilka Scotchman's not a Croesus. Content is wealth — nae land has mair Nane likelier to augment its share ; 17$ Nae race is prouder o' their land- By Scotland Scots will fa' or stand — Wha treasure up the thoughts o' hame. Dear hame ! in foreign lands, like them ? A family-feeling runs through a\ An' Scots grow brithers far awa' ; Nane hallow beauty as they do, An' blush an' tremble in its view. Love's first delicious thrill I mind ; O, 'twas sae sweet to lag behind, As hame the weary reapers gaed, An' woo, unseen, my artless maid ! Nane prize hke them their hero's deeds, Lament, yet glory as he bleeds ; Adore like them their olden brave, Wha loath'd the very sound o' slave, An' if the chain was heard to clank, Flew out wi' swords, and form'd tlie rank. The Bruce, the Wallace, deathless names ! What peasant but wi' transport claims-*' 1^4 Their sons o' genius a' befriend ; If praised, rejoice — if wrang'd, defend. An' there is ane, whase glorious rise To Scotland drew the nation's eyes ; Whase course has been like Afric's sun ;• The loftiest nature's free to run ; See nature 'neath him fast consumed, An' future bards to deserts doom'd. In war, the Lion — peace, the lamb, The son o' Scotland bears the palm. In me 'tis natural thus to lean ; Ane's kintra turns the scale, I ween ; Sae trust me, Scotland's in the wav To prosper, rather than decay. FERGTTSSOX. I wisli't, I want it ; O ! it's sweet To think some ages hence we'll meet ! Behold our land, now rising slow, Then in it's full effulgence glow 175 Edina, now a budding flower, Then blown, an' in its pomp o' power ; The boast, the beauty o' the land. Majestic, brilliant, graceful, grand, Frae hills descending, till it reach The Forth upon his yellow beach Our palace, then, O ! then, again, An' aft, the fav'rite o' the reign ; The living race that plod, forgot ; The grave conceals them, an' they rot. The sons o' genius, as they give To ages light, through ages live; Immortal they, and they alane They foil the tomb, an' death is vain. But tell me, Burns, sin' last we met. What followed, causing sic regret — That silence — thae dispeopled streets Whare man wi' man but rarely meets. ITG BURN8. Alas ! my Fcrgusson, I'm wae "When I revert to scenes sae gay . Our King is just the King I like, Sae kind, sae frank, sae free o' fyke ; Contenting a\ wi' a' content, A' pleas'd the mair, the mair acquent. The Peers o' Scotland — ^glorious names, Our hills their cradles — heaths their hames ! Should patriot calls command them forth, Still bless afar their natal North. These give the ball wi' conscious pleasure. For rich our land in beauty's treasure. Our stately maids to native strains, Light bound like roes on flow'ry plains ; Sae gracefu' swim upon the ee, As mews aboon the evening sea. The King's enchanted — nae quadrilles. Lascivious waltz, but Scottish reels, • Put life and mettle in their heels." 1 I i He smiles, au"" beauty richer blows, The lily redck-ns like the rose ; The hazel ee, the cen o" bi^ie, Expressive speak, an' O, how tnio ! O' rapture, gratitude, aif pride, All' twenty purer joys beside. The heart expands amid the dane.^, It melts and mingles in the glance ; 'J'he ear gives way, the pulses beat, Young een in sweet confusion meet. — Ye lovers, mark that varying cheek, It tells o' things nae tongue can speak. Love's weetest poesy is there, ICs bliss unsullied by a care. Now words are melody an' steal To hearts that tremblingly reveal The passion coyness wad conceal, () for a moment then alane, To kneel, adore, entreat, complain ! .M ITS To woo Ikt, uiii liir, then to kiss I Km- rushing- l)luslies ! tliis wvrv bliss. KKHGlTnSOK. Stoj), IJurns, for though we bloodless be. Still frailty elinirs to von aiul me, Impels ii.s tlowii to earth again, Frae perf'eet bliss, to bliss and j)aiii ; Frae angels fair to earth's reHections, I'Vae bliss to rival reeollections. Life's best, blest moments paint nae mair Stop, Burns, for beauty's still a snare. UURNS. They s])reacl the feast adown the ha\ The Monarch moves 'mid leal huzza; They toast his heallli, an\ by my faith, Wad die defcniling him frae seaith. Ills pledge the geiTrous heart unmans, Sae j:raeed, se kind — 'tis " C'!iiefsa:ul ('lan>; 1T9 An' O may God Aliuiohty bless The Land o' Cakes," — 'twas kingly this. Then dawn'd the day o"" rest on man ; Tlie town is silent, mute the clan, llcspect in speaking looks is shewn, The voice reserved for God alone. The wondVing Monarch marks the scene, Ikit mair than wonder's in his een. This fealty to a God all just. Awakes his reverence, not distrust. A righteous King frae sic a race AVill get the next superior place. The man of God his word unfolds Wi' zeal, convinced that God beholds ; Nae flattery lulls the royal ear. The King o' Kings is Sovereign here. O, 'tis a glorious sight to see A people happy, moral, iree ; Their kintra loving wi' a love They're fain to shew, and proud to prove ISO Adoiiiig (j«!(l, rlic-ir Kini;' rcspectiiii;;, An' zeal aif love ior bailh coni)ectiiig ! Their pastors, eniiilous to come To hail their King — in pulpits duinh ; .^ir taught by llicm, the people pioiie To revercnee God, ai!" love tiie throne. Alas ! in life, we twa, I dree, \\ r SCI ions things niade rather Tree, llvpoerisy, eoneeit, and saunts, Whase prin)e religion was their vaunts, Allured me on in reckless chase, O'er virtue's lenee, o'er pales o' grace ; jhit meek religion, undefil d, 1 rcvercne'd, I'.onour'd, frae a child, A mellow'd radiance lound it throws, An' whare it rests, it gilds and glows. At length the King, 'niid Hopetoun's ha's, l\eceives the Kingdom's last applause. The morning lowers, congenial morn. As Seollaiul s King frae Scotland toin 181 " God bless you all V — 'i'is saiti — 'tis oVr, The yacht fast flies the fleeting" shore ; Adown the gloomy Firth they steer, Fareweel, fareweel, an' disappear. The ciiarm is fled, the magnet's ganc. The spell is past, an' we're alane ; The city shrinks, its numbers melt, The enkindling; warmth nae langer felt. Sae fades the oak in autumn's blast, The gladsome leaves are nipt at last. Drop aff, an' leave the boughs a' bare. Their glory fled, their pomp nae mair. But spring will come, the tree rebloom. An' future days our land illume. 'Tis o'er — like mists of morn the Spirits rise. And melt in beauty in the moon's pale beam ; They eye the Poet as, entranc'd, he lies. And faintly smile — lie starts — but "tis a dream C. B. 1S2 THK J.OUDON CAMPBELLS GATHERING. IIV THE rOPOGRArilKR AND ILLl'STilATOK OK OSSIAN. Tune — " (.'arte wnr tin' king's innr." She, wham thy snick, kind Burns did dra' Whan gee the door gaid to the Ma' — * And thou, her ain best bardie saw — On Loudon Hill was heard to ca' *' Campbells — now the King's come. •' There's some awa' I tear I'll rue — (And I my sorrow maun renew) The Chief o' noble hearts, and true — Hastings — that noble heart's in you Though absent — now the King's come. Vidf Hurii"* r)onis fair England s rose Honoured where Scotiu s thistle blows, Honoured where Ireland's shamrock grows — Lov'd where the Indian's Ganges flows. Bui absent — now the King's come. " Up Loudon's race — in days of yore, As flew your Sires to fields of gore ; Haste to the Eastern Lothian's shore. And welcome Scotland's King once more. C'ampbells — now the King's come. *' Come frac your muirs and heathery braes. Come frae the holms whert Irvine strays ! Frae whare auld Ayr her stream displays, Where Southrons aft fan stubborn faes. CAMPBiiLi.s — now the King's come. " Come youthfu' Shawfield, next in claim To noble Uasting's loyely dame; 184 Tiiy Sires were battle's noblest flame, And tliou art worthy oF their fame. Illav — now tlie King's eome. " Come Waterhaughs, the kind and good, Worthy thy Sires of noblest blood ; Brave, tho' thou'rt auld, and bauld, and bow\l, And darken'd wi' misfortune's cloud. Bauldy — now the King's come. " There's monie a ane, I am ban Id to say, Sail greet the King in trappings gay, Wha's heart neer felt a nobler play Than thine — tlio' in adversity — CAMi'iiEi.i. — now the King's come. " Come auld Auchjmannoci!, ever dear, I wat ye Carle, there's Courtiers near, Ye need na bring your muirland spear, Weel kenn'd on Durham's field o' weir.* Campbell — now the King's come. • At the Haltle o! lJuil!::iii. in i;il(j. 185 *« Whare''s Ckssnock brave ? — the race is gone — Makchmont's no more — but there is one — The young Trees-banks, whose father shone Auld Coila's pride — Death gar't her moan Campbell — ere the Kings's come, " Come Wellwood Cralfoed frae Doonside ! Whare's KiNEANCLEUGHandblytheBRovvNsiDE! Come Netherplace, and leave your bride, Or, lia'e ye nane ? — vvae-sucks betide. Campbell — now the Kings's come. " Come MiLRiG, come, amang the lave, Auld MuNGo's sons by bluid are brave. Their sires could wield a Celtic glaive. And never filled the uiiworthy's grave. Campbell — now the King's come " Haste to the Forth, my canty bairns. Nor tak' ye war's unsonsy aims, 180 Wait nu for me, nor heed the cairns Whare Southrons He. Ilk Scotsman learns. Campbells — now the Kincj's come, " Sons ol' brave sires, on Lara's proud day, or men who shared with Bruce the fray By Bannockburn, or Stirling gay, With Wallace — of your ancestry. Up Campbells — now the King''s come. " Welcome your King with loud huzzas; Tell him though bare are Loi don's has, Yet there are men sprung frai.' its wa's Would cheerly die in his proud cause. And Loudon's — now the King's come." 187 THE ROYAL VISIT TO SCOTLAND. Air—'" Fill the bumper /air" The King has sent a letter Down to Embro"* town ; — * Now the weather's better, I am comin' down ; Put a' things in order In our Royal Ha', The Minstrels o' the Border, Warn them ane aii a\ CHORUS. Ireland is my darling England is my joe, Scotland she is sterlings For she pny.s the foe. Rid thcni l)rini; the Hddlc, \\\ the soiiii ill voiiiie ; 188 We shall have a diddle Soon wi' Scott an' Hoo^ ; ^Ve mean a while to tarry, An' by a' that's good, The days o' bonny Mary, Shall blink on Holyrood ! Ireland is my darling, &c. ' Wake the sliimbrinji Forth, An' the Lothians three — The pipers o' the north, A' to meet \vi' me ; Rouse the banks o' Civde, An' romantic Ayr, D inn barton's castled pride. An' Inverary fair. Ireland is mv dariiii"-, Sic Tlu' reel ()' Tullochij^oruni VVc shall dance wi' glee 189 And tor a vaiioriim A' parties maun agree : Let a' the Whigs an' Tories United form a ring, An' join the loyal chorus To welcome down the King ! Ireland is my darling, &c. THE KING. ox nis visiTiNc; Scotland, august, 1822. BV riloMAS CUMING, AT TlIK UXni.USITV OF EDIKBUUGH. Say, should the Sun in farthest India bide. Where sweets ambrosial swell th' aerial tide, Should pleasures magic tliere his presence bind, Woukfst thou not call him more than too unkind? Ikit soon as morn ui!l)ars her Eastern gates, He soars on high, nor low"d with true conoenial fire; Chaotic discord, whicli ^so long had reign'd, Struck at the sight, her furious steeds restrained ; But hke those Xortherii dimes, where scarce the Sun Looks full, when new-born flowVs to rankness run, And scarce again he thinks to disappear. When nature sinks to all that's dark and drear, So scarce thy Monarch, Erin, scarce away. When low'iing clouds o"'ercast thy short-liv\l day. O, Erin's Sons, whose deeds are far renowned, Whose brows on strangers never yet have frown'd. Throw far contention — that obnoxious banc — Join heart and hand ! and be no lon<;cr twain. From West to East our Monarch c.ist his eye; Impatient Germans saw his penants fly ; 101 Amain he treads, the long sequestor'd shore Where Brunswick's line had dwelt in days of yore. How late stern despot held the stiffened rein ! How late th' oppressed dared not to complain But, see ! the King of Freedom's happy Isle, Greets thee, Hanoverian, with a smile. Sweet Germ.m maidens strew your flowers around Ye sweet musicians, raise your softest sound, He goes ! he goes ! he bids your land adieu, But leaves a wish of kindness still with you ! And now, he stems the fierce Borean waves; Each surging sea the Royal vessel claves ; Proud Forth, at length, extending wide his charms, Receives his anxious Monfirch to his arms. Hail m-ghty Prince ! we greet thee welcome here, AVe kneel ! and kneeling — give our hearts sincere : Believe, the' hjtest, Scotia not the least. Of all thy subjects, feels thy high behest. Thou art our She ! our distant mountains sino-. Thou art (nir Sire ! alono- our valiics rin l}looni fair, and ban idly bristle O; Tlie badge npon a Monarch's breast — Our Caledonian Thistle () ! Green erows, &c, Tiiough some may lout, and laiL^her bow, And flatter, fawn, and fistle (), The King shall find our hearts are true. And manly as f)ur Thistle O ! Green grows, &c. Should ony wish to do him wrang, Few words we then wad wistie O ; His faes we'd face and bauldly bang, And jag them wi" our Thistle O ! Green grows, &c. BECITATIVE. The miller ceased his canty sang, A\ hile round the ring applauses rang. ^01 He whispered Mary — smiling by , AVlien up she rose her pipe to try : Slie was a blooming muirland maid, Whose brown locks round her haffits played ; The sparkling of her bright biack een, Like fire-flaughts glanced along the green ; The heather bell wi' purple blossom. Blushed deeper on her sna'-white bosom ! Blilhe, as the sky-lark hails the day. She chanted o'er her cheery lay. Aiu—'- O'er the rauir amang the heather^ The Thistle's green — the Heather's red. We'll twine the blooming twins together ; And busk the lawland Thistle'e head Amang a buss o' mountain heather. O'er the muir amang the heather, O'er the muir amang the heather; O keze me on the belted plaid, That haps the lad amang the heather. 202 The rose upo' the garden wa' Will droop and die in winter weather ; But rising through the drifted sna\ Green grows the cheery mountain heather. O'er the tnuir, &c. Our King should come across the Forth, For twa or three ouks rax out his tether ; And see the callans o"" the north, The lads amang the mountain heather. O'er the muir, &c, There's no a nobler hearted duel' Than he who wears the kilt and featlier ; Their shanks_^are steeve, their hearts are leal, The lads amang the Highland heathe r. O'er the muir, &c. 2013 Should iurcign f'aes e'er seek our strand, The bagpipe a' the clans would gather, A good claymore in ilka hand, For country, king, and highland heather ! OVr the muir, &c. EECITATIVE. When Mary hushed the simple strain. The miller's bosom glowed fu' fain ; The Thistle frae his cap he took, — Approached the lass, wi' lightsome look ; She took the badge, and smiling^ bound Her blooming heather bells around ; Wi' fond delight her lip he pressed, And placed the emblems in his breast. Up rose the smith, in manly charms, Wi' shoulders broad and bravvp.y arms ; Nae lealer heart eVr graced a smithy, Or hanunercd iron o'ci' stithy : 204 He sang wi"" glee, and sic an air, As aart the woods around them rair. Air — " There's nae luck about the house.'''' •' And are you sure the news is true ?" And is the King come down ? We'll dance and sing till braid daylight, Syne hurry to the town. For I maun see my Sovereign's face, Afore he gang awa ; Though I should bide an ouk frae hame, What recks although there's twa. Though war again should raise her din, Let Geordie never fear ; For him, Til bauldly face the fie,— ni help him wi' my gear. For he is no a Scotsman horn, He's no a man at a', Wha, in his king and country's cause, Wad fear to stand or fa' ! no5 Come miller, lay your loof to mine, I ken you're true and leal ; Your han' can wag a guid braid sword, Your heart is tempered steel ! And should we need to face the fae, Our backs we'll never shaw ; We'll skelp them frae our bonny braes, Or pin them to the wa'. We've crackit looves, we've plighted faith To be for ever true ; The grip gae's dirling to my heart, — I'm no the man to rue ! 'Tis no in banks, in bills, or bonds, 'Tis no in courts o' law, A Caledonian's faith is fix'd, — Hi? word is worth them a'. 206 Ye Scotian hills, wi' heallicr red. Ye straths o' bonny green, Ye water's winding thro' our glens. Bear witness what ye've seen ! \Vi" lowin' breasts, and claspit hands, Ae soul inspires the twa ; And now, we'll bang the bensel l)auld, Frae a' the airts that hl.T. Ye stately stanes, ye tappit cairns, Round which our forebeirs fell. Ye fathers, far aboon the starns. Be witnesses yoursel' ! (Both sing.) And when we break this britherhood. Let slavery be our fa' ! The day that we disgrace your names, Disown us ane and a' ! 207 KKCITATIVE. They ceased — but echo caught the sounc!, And bare it a' her caverns round ; The strain, to faith and freedom dear, Lang lingered on ilk listening ear. Till up rose Jean, the blacksmith's joe, And bad tiie sang raair saftly flow. Air — " Andrew and Ms cutty gun."'' Blithe, blithe, blithe are we, Blithe are we but and ben ; Blithe are we baith out and in; Auld Scotia sees her King again » Auld Reekie's lasses, busk ye braw. Ye lairds, wi' time and cash to spen", Mak him sae fain to see you a", That he may soon come back again. Blilho, blithe, &c. 208 When he gangs down to iioJyrood, Set him in bonny Mary's chair ! But speak na o' her dowie fate 'Twou'd make your Sovereign 's heart iu' sair. Blithe, blithe, &c. Tell him about the days of yore. When we had kings and hk'H of migiit ; O bid liim visit Bannockbnrn, And trace the haunts of Wallace wight I Blithe, blithe, &c. Yet though your kingly courts are ganc, And scarce a vestige left behind, O dinna cringe, and meanly crawl. But shew the noble manly mind ! Blithe, blithe, &c. 209 Wi" Ijglu.souie hearts we'll dance and sing, Till morning glint in o'er the glen ; We 11 pass the quegh to Geordie's health, And hope he'll soon come back again. Ulilhc, blithe, &c. RECITATIVE. «' Weel lilted, Jean,'' the blacksmith cried, '- I like your independent pride; »' And wadna see our land's disgrace <' For titles, pensions, post and place.'" Neist up rose Pate, a ploughman lad, And blue-eyed Chirsty blinked fu"* glad : A smile around the circle ran. When thus the merry sang began: — Air — " ///, let us a to the bridal'^ Fy, let us a"" to L)uneidin\ For a' body maist will be there; For George is come down, and auld Reekie Can brag of a Monarch ance mair. 210 A\\(\ tlicri.' Avill l;e men o' liigli station, Dill fs, peers, and peeresses and a', \\ r a" \he best blood in the nation, And some wlia ba'e little to sliaw. And there will be leal hearted callans, And ithers unsound at the eores; \Vi' laiiils frae the Highlands and Lawlands, Aiul j)rovosts and bailies bv scores, J\' let us a\ See. And tlicre will be hot-headed Tories, llet'ormers, and lanir-visafjed Whifjs, A" clappin"' their ihum!) on auld stones, A:iil lads wha wear wcel powder\l wigs, And there will be sodgers on sentry, W"\ some wad been better at hame; l*ert .swindlers, and iight-flnger'd gentrv, And ithers my sang winna name. Fv let ns ■a\ &c. 211 And there will be sqeezing and pushing. And kneehng to kiss the King"*s hand ; And simpering, and becking, and blushing, liy ladies scarce able to stand. And there will be some rather awkward, Wi" ells of a train at their tails, When forc'd like a crab to creep backward, The muse their hard fortune bewails. Fy let us a', &c. And there will be eating and drinking, And feasting by night and by day ; And some wi' sour faces, Fm thinking. Looking o'er the lang bills they've to pay; What thranging by land and by water, When bidding auld Reekie farewell ! Their tongues for a towmond will clatter ; For a' will ha'e ferlies to tell. Fy let us a', &c. 212 EKCITATlVE. Thi; hearty laugh, the loud gaflli, Haw round the rmg, frac ane to a", I.ove glanc'd in Susie's e'e ; The ploughman saw, and blessM the siglit, I'or ne'er until that happy night Unci Susie been sae free : i'or >!ie was modest, mliil, and meek. The blush upon her dinjpling eheek, AVas like the dawn of siunvier dav : llcr een twa blobs o' morning dew, iler lips twin eherries, ripe and new ; Her breath, the birk in flowery Mav ! Salt as the mavis on the thorn, Thus flowed hev notes, on zcplivrs borne. An.—" f;„n,i Wuferr Bk.vw, braw lads, round Holy rood, Nae ferlic though it [)lease iind } ride vou N.ie vondi.r tiioiigh your heads are high, Wi" Scotia's Kinu set down beside vou 213 For me, I winna join the thrang ; I canna busk, nor lawn, nor flatter ; But to my Royal Sovereign's health, I'll join the lads o' Leven Water. Tis not the crown that makes the King ; The sceptre's but a gilded bauble ; Yet it can sway the selfish race. And glittering crowns attract the rabble. May Geordie's throne stand firm and fast. His subject's love its sure foundation ! And Jang may he the sceptre sway. To rule a loyal, happy nation ! EECITATIVE. The melting sounds fu' saftly fell. Like e'ening dews on heather bell ; Rich twilight shed her purple gleam. And gently murmured Leven's stream. 214 On Lomond''s tap the bonfire blaz'd, While auld and young deHghted gazM ; Tlie playful lambs to loup were seen. And ewes ran bleating o'er the green. And now the lads the lasses led, Where clean and white the claith was spread ; They took their seats around the board, Wi"* hamely, halesome, plenty stor'd ; Nae bUther band e''er met thegither. Ilk ane seem'd happier than anither; They ate, they drank, wi' mirth and glee, And drank " The King,' wi' three times three The fiddle bummed, their houghs they shook, (Some kindly cuddling in the neuk), Nae German waltz, nor French quadrilles, But brisk strathspeys and Scotian reels. The miller lang and lightly danced. While muirland Mary blithely glanced 215 Her lip sae ripe and richly bloomed, He pressed it wi' a gentle smack ; But as the maiden blushed and gloom'd, He frankly gave the favour back. When cocks around were heard to craw. And morning smil'd on Largo Law, Again they sought the dewy green, Wi' love and gladness in their een : There, cleekit m a friendly ring. They blithely danced the parting spring : And syne, as cap-stane o"" the whole, They tun'd their pipes wi' heart an' soul ; Sae loud they lilted up their sang, That woods and braes around them rau". 216 FINALE. Aiii — ■'■Auld Langsyju. "' 'J'lie sangs we've heard this leesome night, Bring days, o' yore to min' ; For weVe a King in Holyioud, As we had langsyne ! O auld langsyne, my dears, O auld langsyne ! Auld Scotia now may crousely craw, As she did Langsyne, The Rose and Thistle, strangers lang, Together fondly twine ; Nae mair they meet for skaith or wrang. As they did langsyne. For auld, &c. 217 Send round the quegh, well toast our King ! Wi" heart baith leal and kin' ; Our fathers stood for Gkordie's rights, In days o' langsyne. For auldy &e. May he come back to see's again, When simmer days are fine ; And gar auld Scotia blink as bUthd, As she did langsyne. For auld, &c. And may he live till he can say. Whan Scotland comes to min', " The first time I saw Holyrood, Is now — langsyne." For auldj &c. 218 Lang may the Scotian crown descend To royal Brunswick's line ! And kings and subjects bear in mind The days o' langsyne! For auld, &c. STANZAS ON THE KING'S DEPARTUKK. It was a sullen afternoon, The dim clouds rolPd above niv head. The billows kept a mournful tune, And haze was over ocean spread. Upon the beach I stood alone, Sad, listening to the rushing breeze, And to the sea-bird's wailing moan. That breasted the broad seas. Tlie peal of cannon then I heard, It was a lone and solemn sound. And seemed the wildly echoed word Of spirit from the deep profound! 219 The ships, before I could discern, Anchored, aye heaving to and fro ; But now they move, and from each stern The regal standards How. 'Twas Scotland's King that left her shore ; The sullen guns did boom — and boom — More dismal clouds came rolling o'er, To wrap the sky in deeper gloom : The breakers a deep moaning kept, Her showers the sleety east did fling. As if wan Caledonia wept O'er her departing King ! Yes, she might weep — bright scenes had gkjw\l In phantom hues before her sight, And, for a season, truth bestow'd The visions of her ancient rio-lit • 220 When Monarchs graced iier palace halls, When shone around a splendid court, When to each chieftain's castled walls Brave vassals did resort. The ancient days — the olden time Before our wondering sight arose ; Bright thoughts of many a deed sublime, Peril — red fields — and vanquished foes — Nobles in ermine — monk in cowl—- Cearnach with brand — and knight in mail. Mirrored did pass before the soul. And formed a fairy tale. The wild breeze blew, and thicker flew Athwart the deep, the drizzly rack; Vessels did thicken on the view — The King on Scotland turns his back I 221 The clouds roll'd dark — the rain did pour — As if for grief", the daylight faiPd ; When, leaving lone our northern shore, The gracious IVIonarch sailed. Majestically oVr the brine, AVith sails expanded, pass'd the sliovr (M' streaiuered ships — a gorgeous line, Down the wide murm'ring Forth tliej go. I stood upon the sea-beach green ; More indistinct the pageant grew ; Night"'s shadows dark did intervene — It faded from my view. Hut neer from Scotland's mind shall fade The menfry of l)er gen'rous Kinc ; The pomp — tlie grandeur — the parade — The loyalty, and triumphing : — 222 Faith, spotless, may she still maintain- Fidelity, unchanged and pure, 111 peace, without one factious stain, In war a bulwark sure ! KINC. (iF.OIlf.K Tin: FOU.'tTH AM) A' THAI I'l'rilli^n (HI his Mitjfstij\^ Di'iiuri'irr from Sro//niir/, Bv J. Lee Lewes, ni liis Maji'sty's Custom:; — Hamilton, Uprmiiila. Thk King is gone, the rites are o'er ; Tlie Royal Yacht has left our shore ; Departed 'mid the cannon's roar, The peoples cheers and a' that ; The pibroch's thrill, the trumpet's clang, Which late a joyful welcome rang. Resound and echo loud and lang, For George the Fourth, and a' that ! 223 Our banners waved the farewell sign ; The Clansmen's shout swelled ©""er the brine ; May God preserve the Brunswick line, Great George the Fourth and a' that ! As long as Calton-hill remains, And ArthurVSeat o'ertowers the plains, And lifc-blood flows in Scotchmen's veins, Our hearts will throb to a' that. J^old Chieftains, well your duty's done; Ye loved the Sire — ye love the Sox ; The Chief of Chiefs, the King, hath won Each follower's heart, and a"" that. And should he, o'er the land or main, E'er visit Scotland's shore asrain, You'll joy with all your Highlandmen, To greet the Kikg, and a' that. My gallant friends in bonnets blue, IJrave Lowlanders ! a word to vou ; You've paid your King the homage due To Royalty, and a' that. 224 He saw it in each sparkling eye ; He heard it in each lo^al cry ; Tic met it in each symbol high, Tha,t streanrd for Geobgk, and a' that. Stout Archers ! well the garb became Your martial air and manly frame ; A proud distinction ye may claim. The Bodv-oviard and ii" that. ^^ hile zealous acclamations riiiij, In Archers-IIali your trophies sling ; ]\[emorials of your guest and Kikg, King Gkorgk the Fourth, and a' that. And, 'twas a glorious sight to see, Auld Scotland's mounted Yeomanry ; How firm, how well, how soldierly, Their squadrons marched and a' that. 225 Three thousand strong, th' appointed baiuU, Arrayed on Portobello sands, " Aye ready" at their King's commands, To take the field, and a' that. In garb of Gaul, and led by Graeme, With swords and bucklers onwards came The Celts; — who aye, with Ossian's fame. Will live in song, and a' that. From hill and isle, from strath and glen. Glengarry's and Macgregor's men. The Drummonds, and the Breadalbane, The Sutherlands, and a' that. Edina, seat to learning dear ! Thy sons have shed the parting tear ; But aye they'll hold in memory dear. Their glorious Liege, and a' that. While shines thy intellectual light, While second Athens charms the sight, Tiiey'll dwell with rapture and delight, On Geokue the Focrth, and a' that. Famed Albyn's Daughters ! vain the lay That doth not to your beauty's ray The duteous meed of homage pay, Your worth extol, and a' that ; The emblems in your braided hair, The crosses on your bosoms fair, The gems you wore, so rich and rare, Your eyes outshine, and a' that. And yet, the feathers, waving high. In compliment to iMnjesty, Gave influence to each lovely eye, That beavued on Gkokge, and a' tluit. 297 The tliistle-wro.Tth, so fresh and ojrccn, The mountain-heath and tartan sheenc, Your native charms, your air and mien, The Kisv. admired, and a' that. Famed masters of the northern lyre, Whoso strains breathe true poetic fire. The theme may well your souls inspire To boldest flights, and a' that. Leal-hearted Scott, exalt the lay ; Your meed, illustrious Campbell, pay ; Bright genius, with the well-earned bay Your brows hath crowned, and a' that. Great bards of Scotland ! high in name As any in the rolls of fame, Ye both inherit valour's flame, And patriot blood, and a' that. 228 High sound your Monarch''s praises forth ; His glory, zeal, his kingly worth ; Strike, strike the harps that fire the North, To Bhuxswick's race, and a' that ! Descendant of inspiring Neil, Tlic spirit of each spring and reel. The King's kind notice long you'll feel, His Athoil brose, and a"* that. Vou pledged your Monarch like a man. You're still the life of kin and clan, ^ And while Glenlivet nerves your han'. Strike boldly up, and a' that. And loud resound the patriot strain, «' God save the King !" — long may he reign, And aye " Britannia rule the main, ' The Ocean-Queen, and a' that ! 229 For every heart in union glows, And every cup in joy overflows, The Thistle, Shamrock, and the Rose, To George the Fouuth, and a' that ! LINES ADDED TO THE KING'S ANTHEM, asciiiki:d to sir Walter scott, bart. AND SUNG AT THE THEATRE WHILE HIS MAJESTY WAS ABOL'T TO RETIRE. Bright beams are soon o'ercast, Soon our brief hour is past. Losing our King : Honoured, beloved, and dear. Still shall his parting ear, Our latest accents hear, God save the King ! MSBia INDEX. An' hae you heard the joyfu' news? Page 27 Auld Scotland's got her King again, 89 As I gaed down the High Street, &c 92 Auld Scotia now her sons does ca' 105 As honest, thriffie Mattie Gray, 117 And are ye sure the news is true? 153 And are you sure the news is true ? 201 Blithe, bhthe, bhthe are we, 207 Braw braw lads round Holy rood, 212 Bright beams are soon o'ercast, 229 Dear Sire I— I am a Perthshire lad, 31 Dull yesterday! Fm glad you're fled, 44 232 Few months have I passd, &c Page 75 Fame let thy trumpet sound, 107 Fy, let us a' to Duneidiu', 209 Green grows the thistle, O, 199 Hark! the pibroch*s martial strain, .17 Heard ye yon shout?— 'twas Scotland's sons, ..,ii4) Haste ye maidens, south the Forth, 40 Hark to those rapt'rous shouts of joy, 64 Hark ! Hark ! it rises from the shore, 79 Here are we met, a jovial band, , 99 I HURRIED down to yon town, » 102 It was a sullen afternoon, 218 King George the Fourth is coming down, 24 Let the King go to Scotland, my. jewel, &c. ...45^ Little wat ye wha's coming, 81 Maby, does treason soil my heart? Page 12 Mary, now the King is come, „ SI2 Now bumper your glasses, brave boys, &c 97 O CLARE princeps, terra Britannia, 19 O Scotia, now's the happy day, 51 O welcome to your ain house, 61 Of old, when a monarch of England appeared, 08 O cam ye east, or cam ye wast, 71 O wat ye wha's in yon town? 77 Raptfee beams in Scotia's eye 1 109 Scotsmen toss your bonnets on high, 16 Strike the harp of the north, &c 38 Scotia, with joy, her ancient crown, 55 Saw ye Geordie cumin'? quo' she, 151 Slie, wham thy snick, kind Burns, did dra', ...18Ji Say should the sun in farthest India bide, Ib9 234 » The news has flown frae mouth to mouth, Page 1 The peak of yon mountain is shining in light,. ..32 The eagle screams upon Benmore, 84 Then here'^s a health to our noble Kins:, 100 The Whigs and Tories a^ agree, 118 *Tis solemn night — the weary city sleeps, . . . , ,155 The King has sent a letter, 187 The thistle's green, the heather''s red, 201 The sangs weVe heard this leisome night, 216 The King is gone — the rites are ©""er, 222 Wk'i.i, cock our blue bonnets, aha ! aha ! . , . . . 13 Wilt ye wha's a' cumin' ? 50 What ails you, dare Pat ? &c 58 Welcome ! 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