' : 
 
 1 
 
. 
 
 
VERSES 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER NICOLSON, LL.D. 
 

 
VERSES 
 
 57/0 
 
 
 ALEXANDER NICOLSON, LL.D. 
 
 WITH MEMOIR 
 BY WALTER- SMITH, D.D. 
 
 EDINBURGH: DAVID DOUGLAS 
 1893 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MEMOIR i 
 
 SKYE 23 
 
 THE BRITISH Ass 29 
 
 SAM HALL. A NEW VERSION .... 36 
 
 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG .... 42 
 
 THE ISLE OF SKYE 56 
 
 THE LORD PRESIDENT 64 
 
 ARDMILLAN, 1871 71 
 
 THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD .... 75 
 
 HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 84 
 
 A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE 90 
 
 To PROFESSOR BLACKIE, ON His RETURN FROM 
 
 EGYPT 96 
 
 SONG FOR THE NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER . . 103 
 
 THE HEATHER no 
 
 THE RUSH TO THE BAR 118 
 
 AT KYLE RHEA 124 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 ALEXANDER NICOLSON was perhaps as true a type 
 of the Scottish Celt as this age has seen. Not that 
 he was a pure Celt either, for there was a strain of 
 Norse blood in him, as there is in many of the men 
 of Skye and the Lews. But it had been so diluted 
 in the course of time as to leave him practically 
 as thorough a Highlander as ever rejoiced to speak 
 the Gaelic tongue. Somehow the pure Celt is not 
 a success in this life ; not for want of abilities, not 
 because he has not force, both mental and bodily, 
 to hold his own with the best. But he is apt to be 
 dreamy, to work by fits and starts, to fail in that 
 persistency which alone secures its end. Perhaps, 
 B 
 
2 MEMOIR 
 
 indeed, he serves his real purpose when he adds a 
 vein of poetry and fiery passion to some dull 
 prosaic race, in which his individuality is lost. 
 At least that has been suggested, and possibly it 
 is not far wrong. Nicolson, with all his brilliant 
 faculties and I have known few men more richly 
 gifted was certainly not successful, except in 
 winning many warm friends, and never alienating 
 any of them. He drew back from the Church, 
 where with his fine reverence he might have been 
 a power. He tried literature, but did not make 
 a name. He tried law, but did not win a practice, 
 and became only a sheriff-substitute. Yet there are 
 scores of commonplace prosperous lawyers and 
 editors who have not half his intellect. It is a pity 
 that the Norseman was not the dominant element 
 in him; for the Norseman, even with ordinary 
 gifts, commonly gets on very well, where the Celt, 
 though greatly endowed, so often fails. 
 
 It is now nearly forty-five years since I first 
 became acquainted with him. He was then a 
 
MEMOIR 3 
 
 bright young student entering the Divinity Hall of 
 the Free Church, which I was about to leave. But 
 his tall handsome figure, and his thoughtful face, 
 not without a strong dash of humour in it, took 
 my fancy, and we were drawn together more or 
 less for the short time I remained. He had won 
 distinguished honours in philosophy, and we older 
 students were proud to have him among us. 
 But he and I were soon parted, and though I 
 heard of his journalisms and law studies, we never 
 met for years, save once when we spent a bright 
 happy Sunday in Arran together. He was then 
 full of hope, but also rather sluggish ; a pleasant 
 companion among the hills and glens and mists, 
 but evidently not a hard, at least not a steady 
 worker. Perhaps he already felt that weak action 
 of the heart which at last carried him off so 
 suddenly. Perhaps it was only the Celtic lack of 
 continuous energy. It was delightful to walk and 
 talk with him, but one had doubts of his ever doing 
 what it was clearly in him to do, if only he would 
 
4 MEMOIR . 
 
 work with a will. He was then fighting with 
 straitened circumstances, while I was burdened 
 with a heavy sorrow ; and his warm sympathy was 
 helpful to me, whatever mine did for him. In later 
 life we had occasion to meet often, and I never 
 parted from him without a feeling of the big 
 generous nature of the man, and the wealth of 
 faculty that was in him, of which however prob- 
 ably little or no trace would soon be left, except 
 only in the memory of those who knew him. 
 
 Some years ago he gave, somewhat reluctantly, 
 a brief sketch of his life to the editor of a volume 
 of selections from works of " The Minor Poets of 
 Scotland." It is hardly worth reprinting as a whole, 
 being as meagre as he could well make it. But I 
 shall take the liberty of using it freely as the most 
 reliable authority for the main facts of his story. 
 
 Nicolson was born at Usabost in Skye, where 
 his father had, I believe, a small property, on 
 the 27th of September 1827. There he got his 
 early education privately, " under several excellent 
 
MEMOIR 5 
 
 tutors," which implies that the family circumstances 
 must then have been tolerably easy. Scottish 
 people do not keep private tutors, even in out-of- 
 the-way places, unless they count at least among 
 the minor gentry. From Usabost he came straight 
 to the University of Edinburgh, where he followed 
 the usual course of study, and took the degree of 
 B.A. Afterwards he "received the honorary degree 
 of M.A. in respect of services rendered as assistant 
 to several of the Professors." He had been a dis- 
 tinguished student under Sir W. Hamilton, and 
 during his illness Nicolson read his lectures and 
 conducted his class. He filled the same post 
 afterwards with Professor Macdougall, I believe. 
 For a young man able to hold that position his 
 friends naturally anticipated a brilliant career, and 
 they were probably rather disappointed when it 
 appeared that he aimed no higher than the humble 
 position of a Free Church minister. That inten- 
 tion, however, did not hold long. He says that of 
 all the Professors in New College " one only was 
 
6 MEMOIR 
 
 highly interesting to him, the unique and wonder- 
 ful Rabbi Duncan." Ere long he gave up 
 theology, thinking "the uniform of the esteemed 
 Free Church, of which I am still a member, too 
 strait for me." There is some reason to believe 
 that a faint suspicion of heresy somehow attached 
 to him, and drew the attention of strict college 
 authorities, which he probably resented. Then 
 he drifted for a season into literature, which was 
 no doubt his real vocation, if the res angusta 
 domi would have permitted it; for by this time 
 his father was dead, and there was but scant pro- 
 vision for the widow and family. For a time, 
 then, he acted "as one of the sub-editors of the 
 8th edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica" under 
 Mr. Spencer Baynes, doing mere hodman's work 
 of course, hardly discoverable now by the most in- 
 dustrious biographer, probably also not worth the 
 search. Then he became " one of the staff of the 
 Edinburgh Guardian^ a short-lived paper of high 
 literary character," conducted I think by the late 
 
MEMOIR 7 
 
 Mr. Dallas. For a year he " edited an advanced 
 Liberal paper called the Daily Express" but though 
 always a Liberal, he was never much of a politician, 
 and had neither the special gifts nor the special 
 training required for a successful journalist. What 
 sort of work his graver articles were I do not know. 
 But I can imagine his occasional skits were amusing 
 enough, and that people missed them when the paper 
 was at length merged in the Caledonian Mercury. 
 At least, those letters which long afterwards ap- 
 peared in the Scotsman during the Robertson Smith 
 business, with the signature of M'Craw, had a rare 
 felicity of humour in them. But a daily paper de- 
 mands hard and constant work, and the Celt can 
 work hard enough, but finds the constancy irksome. 
 In 1860 he was called to the Scottish Bar, and 
 had now at last a distinct profession. But the 
 Solicitors and Writers to the Signet fought very shy 
 of him. It is said that they do not like advocates 
 with literary tendencies ; yet Jeffrey was a success- 
 ful practitioner. It is also said that they keep their 
 
8 MEMOIR 
 
 business for their own sons and nephews and other 
 kin, and there are some rather pathetic references 
 to this in one of Nicolson's songs. I cannot tell 
 what the real explanation may be, but one who 
 had been an assistant professor and examiner in 
 Philosophy, who was also a reporter for the Scottish 
 Jurist, and subsequently its editor, might have 
 naturally looked to get a share of the business 
 before the Supreme Court; yet he did not. In 
 some quarters it rushed in full tide, but for Nicol- 
 son it was always at the lowest ebb. Weaker, 
 commoner men drank their fill, while there was not 
 a drop to moisten his lips. Possibly he could never 
 have been a great lawyer. But he never got the 
 chance, for it is only by practice that one can be 
 really learned in the law. The mere study of Stair 
 and Erskine will hardly make an able jurist ; and 
 without a definite object one can scarcely read and 
 remember endless decisions of court. So the years 
 passed by in a monotonous pacing of the boards of 
 "Parliament House," and reporting of cases for 
 
MEMOIR 9 
 
 the Jurist, but without a brief or any likely oppor- 
 tunity to show what mettle he was of. He was not 
 alone, of course, in this experience. The Bar has 
 always a number of idlers, voluntary or involuntary, 
 some of them taking their fun, and others eating 
 their hearts. But as a rule they can afford to be 
 doing nothing ; and unhappily that was not Nicol- 
 son's position. It was a hard lot, and soon became 
 harder when the Jurist failed, and he lost the ;ioo 
 a year which it had brought him. This he deplores 
 in a poem from which I may quote a verse or two. 
 
 " Mourn for the Jurist, 
 Fount of legal lore the purest ; 
 Mourn for the Jurist 
 Whom we shall see no more. 
 
 " Mourn for \hzjurist 
 That wrought for us and bled for us ; 
 Mourn for the Jurist 
 That eked our little store. 
 
 " For five and forty years it fought, 
 Nor bated of its strength a jot, 
 And ne'er by us should be forgot 
 The help it gave to boil the pot. 
 
io MEMOIR 
 
 "O Scottish Jurist ! 
 My heart is sad this night for thee, 
 Though many a time in summer's prime 
 I counted thee a bore. " 
 
 Outside his profession he got some occasional 
 work, it is true, and did it faithfully. As I have 
 already said, he was examiner in Philosophy for a 
 while. For three years also he was examiner of 
 the Registers of Births etc., in Edinburgh and the 
 neighbouring counties. In 1865 he was appointed 
 Assistant Commissioner by the Scottish Education 
 Commission, which needed some one who under- 
 stood Gaelic. " In that capacity he visited nearly 
 all the inhabited Western Isles and inspected their 
 schools," not without good results to them, and 
 great enjoyment to himself, for his heart was always 
 in the Highlands, and more particularly the island 
 part of them. He must have seen at that time the 
 wretched condition of the crofters, and I know that 
 he felt their miseries keenly. But he was not an 
 inventive politician, and did not take the initiative 
 
MEMOIR 1 1 
 
 in any proposal to redress their grievances. In 
 after years, indeed, he was one of the Commissioners, 
 under Lord Napier, who inquired into the Crofter 
 question, and he took a lively interest in the matter. 
 But then also it may be Questioned whether his 
 enjoyment in sailing from island to island, and 
 watching the mists and the sunsets, was not quite 
 as strong as his wish to get Parliament to legislate 
 on their behalf. His was the artistic, rather than 
 the practical, temperament; and the sight of the 
 squalidest " black houses " in Lews would not have 
 prevented him from singing a pleasant song in the 
 evening. Not that he did not sympathise with 
 those poor folk ; but he knew that in spite of their 
 poverty, there was not a little cheerful piety in their 
 homes. 
 
 At last, in 1872, despairing of getting any 
 practice at the Bar, he accepted the office of steward- 
 substitute of the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, now 
 known as the sheriff-substitute of that county. It 
 was not a very lucrative office, and he had two 
 
12 MEMOIR 
 
 sisters, and four nieces to maintain and educate. 
 The income was considerably increased subse- 
 quently by the addition of Wigtownshire to his 
 shrievalty, but that implied also considerable in- 
 crease of labour, early rising on certain days, and 
 tedious railway journeys. He complained a good 
 deal of this, for he was now grown rather corpulent, 
 which added to his constitutional indolence. 
 
 About this time the Celtic Chair in the Uni- 
 versity was endowed by the enthusiasm and energy 
 of Professor Blackie. It had been first suggested by 
 Nicolson and the late distinguished Gaelic scholar, 
 the Rev. Dr. MacLauchlan. But it needed another 
 kind of man to realise their idea. Almost every 
 one interested in the chair expected that Nicolson 
 would be its first incumbent, and Professor Blackie 
 urged him to accept it. If he could have continued 
 in his sheriffdom he would have done so. But 
 that was found to be impossible, and he shrank 
 from giving up a post from which he might retire 
 by and by with a pension such as he could hardly 
 
MEMOIR 13 
 
 hope to earn as a professor. In the end he regretted 
 greatly that he had declined the chair, for which he 
 had unique qualifications, especially as the change 
 which he was led ere long to make was to a post 
 for which, it turned out, he was very poorly qualified. 
 His friends of whom he had many did not well 
 know what to advise when he had an offer to ex- 
 change Kirkcudbright for Greenock. In the former, 
 life was rather dull and solitary. He had little or 
 no intellectual companionship. The very atmo- 
 sphere was sleepy. It was mere village life, with- 
 out interest, without stimulus, without privacy too. 
 In such a place he seemed to be wasted. Little 
 as he had done before to justify the high opinion 
 of those who knew and loved him, he had done 
 still less since he went to the shores of the Solway, 
 and the banks of the Dee and the Ken. Perhaps 
 Greenock might rouse him to put forth his energies. 
 The very law business there would call for mental 
 activity. He could hardly sleep away his time in 
 such a centre of manifold activities ; and he was 
 
14 MEMOIR 
 
 within sight of the hills and lochs which would 
 remind him of his beloved Skye. We all thought 
 the change might be good for him, and we never 
 were more mistaken in our lives. Perhaps by this 
 time he had lost what power of steady application 
 he ever had. Certainly commercial law, too, which 
 was specially needed in Greenock, was quite new 
 to him, and he found it difficult to make up his 
 mind about the questions submitted to his judg- 
 ment. He had not been long in the sugar 
 metropolis ere murmurs were heard about arrears 
 of court business, and discontent among agents 
 and clients. Things evidently were not going well. 
 When one met him he was still as sweet-tempered 
 and pleasant as ever, but not so happy. There 
 was a shadow on his face, which was only partly 
 removed even when he talked of his beloved Skye. 
 Would Skye have been a better place for him than 
 Greenock ? I do not know. I doubt it, unless he 
 had been free just to roam about its glens and 
 lochs and hills, and drop into its cottages, or pay 
 
MEMOIR 15 
 
 a visit to its manses. We could not see it, of 
 course, but his working day was drawing to an end. 
 Probably he himself felt the failure of vital energy 
 even thus early. He had had mysterious fainting 
 fits, not natural to a man of his apparent strength. 
 Doctors, seemingly, did not make much of them, 
 yet they were strange in one of his gigantic build. 
 Ere long, therefore, it seemed best that he should 
 retire from active work altogether, having earned a 
 right to a pension by some twenty years' service. 
 Very glad were all his friends in Edinburgh to 
 think of having him back among them again, and 
 not without hope that now, at last, he would have 
 leisure and freedom from anxiety to do something 
 which would justify their high estimate of his 
 powers. But it was not to be. Some of us tried 
 hard to stir him up at least to polish the rough and 
 careless work which had served to amuse a com- 
 pany of friends, but was not fit for larger publicity. 
 Some of us hoped even that he might be persuaded 
 to settle down to some bit of strenuous work alto- 
 
1 6 MEMOIR 
 
 gether new. None of us doubted that he could 
 do almost anything he set himself resolutely to 
 accomplish. But the days passed in lethargy, and 
 the evenings in pleasant society. It soon appeared 
 all too clear, that the leisure had come too late. 
 The springs might not be quite dried up, but they 
 were not strong enough to flow into a stream. 
 The ambition was dead. " Carlyle's stern doctrine 
 (not practice)," he says, " long ago impressed me 
 with the conviction that there are duties much 
 more imperative than the writing of books," which 
 is quite true no doubt, only Nicolson had not 
 done those other duties very energetically, and this 
 last he might have done to the profit of the world. 
 The only books he ever published were A Collec- 
 tion of Gaelic Proverbs and A Life of the late Adam 
 Black. The former is, I suppose, a pretty complete 
 gathering of Celtic proverbial sayings; but they 
 are not compared with other national proverbs so 
 as to indicate the peculiarities of the Highland 
 ones. The latter book begins well and is full of 
 
MEMOIR 17 
 
 interest for the first half of the volume. After 
 that, when the struggle of the young bibliopole is 
 done, Nicolson seems to have felt as if he had had 
 enough of it, and could not throw any interest into 
 the successful Publisher, Provost, and Member of 
 Parliament, who wielded so large and so long 
 an influence over the Edinburgh Whigs. This 
 biography will not perpetuate the memory of the 
 excellent Adam Black. Nicolson's heart was not 
 in the work. It was a task he had undertaken, 
 and as a task it was done, after lying by for a good 
 many years. He also edited a volume called 
 Edinburgh Essays, written by a number of his 
 friends connected with the University. It made a 
 little stir at the time, but has long since gone to 
 oblivion, and Nicolson's editorial functions in con- 
 nection with it appear to have been of the meagrest. 
 The only other literary work I find him concerned 
 with, except occasional articles in Good Words 
 and newspaper reviews, is the new edition of the 
 Gaelic Bible, at which he wrought along with Pro- 
 
1 8 MEMOIR 
 
 fessor M'Kinnon. For aught I can tell, that may 
 have been the biggest work of his life, for he knew 
 both Greek and Gaelic, if Hebrew lay outside his 
 ken. We will hope that it has proved a boon to 
 the pious Celts beyond the Grampians, but for the 
 rest of the world it was pretty much "Love's 
 labour lost." 
 
 He concludes his brief autobiographical sketch 
 with these words, " I would rather be remembered 
 as the composer of one good song, than as the writer 
 of many respectable and superfluous books." This 
 desire of his has not remained ungratified. One 
 genuine good song he has written, besides some 
 others which are respectable and not superfluous. 
 A bright breezy ditty is "The beautiful Isles of 
 Greece," and it was good to hear him sing it. 
 " The British Ass " has received the imprimatur of 
 the great Association for which it was written, and 
 is sung, I have been told, every year at the dinner 
 of the philosophical " Red Lions." There is no 
 march so delights the Scottish Brigade of the British 
 
MEMOIR 19 
 
 army as " Agus O, Mhdrag ! " But the triumph of 
 his verse is the exquisite 
 
 " My heart is yearning for thee, O Skye !j 
 Dearest of islands ! " 
 
 which breathes throughout the sweet pure air of the 
 Coolins by the sea. I would give a good deal to 
 have written that song, to have been capable of 
 writing it. Many a time I have felt my eyes grow 
 dim as he sang it ; and the last time not less than 
 the first. It is, indeed, a very scanty wreath we are 
 able to lay on his grave, but this one rich blossom 
 will perfume all the rest, and make them welcome 
 to many. He left a good deal of MS., but in such 
 a rough state that nothing could be made of it 
 songs which were the pastime of a merry evening, 
 verses which were memorials of happy excursions, 
 pleasant enough for friends at the time, useless for 
 any other purpose. He had printed also occasional 
 articles in various magazines, mostly about Skye ; 
 but there is a touch of the guide-book in them, with 
 only here and there something that cries out of the 
 
20 MEMOIR 
 
 depths of his soul. This little book is all we have 
 to show for all we once expected ; and how slim it 
 is for a man of his size ! 
 
 It was pleasant for his friends to have him back 
 among them in these last days, though they did not 
 see so much of him as they could have wished. 
 No one was more welcome at the dinner-table, or 
 when he chanced to drop in of an evening. Yet 
 the old fire no longer burned in him as of old. 
 Doubtless Edinburgh held a good many ghosts for 
 him. His old friend, Alexander Smith, was no 
 longer there to rhapsodise with him about Blaven 
 and Scoor-na-Gillian, and recall pleasant days in the 
 little inn at Sligachan. Veitch too was gone, with 
 his keen-witted criticism and endless stores of 
 Greek ; a walking dictionary, perhaps, rather than 
 a man of large learning, yet withal a bright com- 
 panion. The other Veitch, long his friend and 
 comrade in philosophy and literature, was in Glas- 
 gow, a successful Professor of Logic. Possibly the 
 memory of such old friends somewhat saddened 
 
MEMOIR 21 
 
 his latter days. Still more likely, that weak action 
 of the heart to which I have already alluded, had 
 its depressing influence. He knew of it ; but he 
 never spoke of it, and none of us suspected it till the 
 sad end came. The night before he had passed at 
 one of those big tea-meetings where Highlanders 
 congregate annually, and sing Gaelic songs, and 
 listen to English speeches. Next morning, the 
 1 3th of January 1893, sitting chatting over his coffee 
 with one of his nieces, suddenly " his countenance 
 changed," and he passed into the great unknown. 
 
 In presenting this selection from his MSS., at 
 the request of those who knew and loved him, I 
 have had in some cases to use editorial freedoms 
 which I would have gladly avoided if I could. 
 Those who know the originals will not hesitate to 
 say that I have weakened their force, which I readily 
 admit. But as their author never would consent 
 to publish them in their original form, it would 
 not have been a brotherly act in me to do so. 
 Others were local and personal, and though with- 
 
22 MEMOIR 
 
 out a touch of malice, yet as they stood they 
 might have given pain to some whom Nicolson 
 would have been sorry to grieve. Hence lines 
 and names and allusions have been dropped out. 
 For all this I alone am personally responsible. 
 
 WALTER SMITH. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 I append this note to show the kind of friends Nicolson 
 made, who remained friends to the last, for nearly all of them 
 who still lived stood by his grave as we lowered him into it that 
 snowy winter day. On the occasion of his going to Kirkcud- 
 bright, he was presented with a beautiful artistic work in 
 silver, with Celtic ornamentation, designed by the late James 
 Drummond, R.S.A. , and subscribed for, among other friends, 
 by Dr. John Brown, Alex. Russel, Lord Neaves, Lord Ardmillan, 
 Sir Noel Paton, Cluny Macpherson, Spencer Baynes, P. P. 
 Alexander, Professors Blackie, Campbell Fraser, Masson, Crum 
 Brown, J. F. M'Lennan, Sir George Harvey, Dr. Matthews 
 Duncan, Rev. Dr. Hanna, Lord Gordon, Lord Watson, Lord 
 Justice-Clerk Macdonald, Lords Curriehill, Lee, M'Laren, 
 Kinnear, Kyllachy, Kincairney, Stormonth Darling, Sir "W. 
 Gibson Craig, Sir Arthur Mitchell, Sir Arch. Geikie, Lord 
 Provost Harrison, Cosmo Innes, A. Findlater, Henry Lancaster, 
 /Eneas Mackay, David Douglas, George Barclay, Norman 
 Macpherson, Alex. Gibson, etc. 
 
 The excellent likeness prefixed to this volume is from a 
 photograph taken by his friend, Mr. A. P. Henderson, 
 Glasgow. 
 
SKYE. 
 
 MY heart is yearning for thee, O Skye ! 
 
 Dearest of islands ! 
 There first the sunshine gladdened my eye, 
 
 On the sea sparkling ; 
 There doth the dust of my dear ones lie, 
 
 In the old graveyard. 
 
 Bright are the golden and green fields to me, 
 
 Here in the Lowlands ; 
 Sweet sings the mavis in the thorn-tree, 
 
 Snowy with fragrance : 
 But oh for a breath of the great North Sea, 
 
 Girdling the mountains ! 
 
24 SKYE 
 
 Good is the smell of the brine that laves 
 
 Black rock and skerry, 
 Where the great palm-leaved tangle waves 
 
 Down in the green depths, 
 And round the craggy bluff, pierced with caves, 
 
 Seagulls are screaming. 
 
 Where the sun sinks beyond Hunish Head, 
 
 Swimming in glory, 
 As he goes down to his ocean bed 
 
 Studded with islands, 
 Flushing the Coolin with royal red, 
 
 Would I were sailing ! 
 
SKYE 25 
 
 Many a hearth round that friendly shore 
 
 Giveth warm welcome ; 
 Charms still are there, as in days of yore, 
 
 More than of mountains ; 
 But hearths and faces are seen no more, 
 
 Once of the brightest. 
 
 Many a poor black cottage is there, 
 
 Grimy with peat smoke, 
 Sending up in the soft evening air 
 
 Purest blue incense, 
 While the low music of psalm and prayer 
 
 Rises to Heaven. 
 
26 SKYE 
 
 Kind were the voices I used to hear 
 
 Round such a fireside, 
 Speaking the mother tongue old and dear, 
 
 Making the heart beat 
 With endless tales of wonder and fear, 
 
 Or plaintive singing. 
 
 Great were the marvellous stories told 
 
 Of Ossian's heroes, 
 Giants, and witches, and young men bold, 
 
 Seeking adventures, 
 Winning kings' daughters and guarded gold 
 
 Only with valour. 
 
SKYE 27 
 
 Reared in those dwellings have brave ones been ; 
 
 Brave ones are still there. 
 Forth from their darkness on Sunday I've seen 
 
 Coming pure linen, 
 And, like the linen, the souls were clean 
 
 Of them that wore it. 
 
 See that thou kindly use them, O man ! 
 
 To whom God giveth 
 Stewardship over them, in thy short span, 
 
 Not for thy pleasure ! 
 Woe be to them who choose for a clan 
 
 Four-footed people ! 
 
28 SKYE 
 
 Blessings be with ye, both now and aye, 
 
 Dear human creatures ! 
 Yours is the love that no gold can buy 
 
 Nor time can wither. . 
 Peace be to thee and thy children, O Skye ! 
 
 Dearest of islands ! 
 
THE BRITISH ASS. 
 
 (Roared in a Den of Scientific Lions at Edinburgh, 
 7th August 1871.) 
 
 AIR The British Grenadiers. 
 
 SOME men go in for Science, 
 And some go in for Shams, 
 
 Some roar like hungry Lions, 
 And others bleat like Lambs : 
 
30 THE BRITISH ASS 
 
 But there's a Beast, that at this Feast 
 
 Deserves a double glass, 
 So let us bray, that long we may 
 Admire the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
 Chorus With an Ass-Ass-sociATiON, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 On England's fragrant clover 
 
 This beast delights to browse, 
 But sometimes he's a rover 
 
 To Scotland's broomy knowes ; 
 For there the plant supplies his want, 
 
 That doth all herbs surpass, 
 The Thistle rude the sweetest food 
 
 That feeds the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
THE BRITISH ASS 31 
 
 We've read in ancient story, 
 
 How a great Chaldean swell 
 Came down from all his glory, 
 
 With horned beasts to dwell : 
 If you would know how it happened so, 
 
 That a King should feed on grass, 
 In " Section D, Department B," 
 
 Inquire of the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
 To Grecian sages, charming, 
 
 Rang the music of the spheres, 
 
 But voices more alarming 
 Salute our longer ears : 
 
32 THE BRITISH ASS 
 
 By Science bold we now are told 
 How Life did come to pass 
 
 From world to world the seeds were hurled, 
 Whence sprung the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
 In our waltzing through creation 
 
 We meet those fiery stones 
 That bring, for propagation, 
 
 The germs of flesh and bones : 
 And is it not a thrilling thought 
 
 That a huge misguided mass 
 Will, some fine day, come and sweep away 
 
 Our dear old BRITISH Ass ! 
 
THE BRITISH ASS 33 
 
 The child who knows his father 
 
 Has aye been reckoned wise, 
 But some of us would rather 
 
 Be spared that sweet surprise ! 
 If it be true, that when we view 
 
 A comely lad or lass, 
 We find the trace of the Monkey's face 
 
 In the gaze of the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
 The Ancients, childish creatures ! 
 
 Thought we derived from Heaven 
 The godlike form and features 
 
 To mankind only given ; 
 
34 THE BRITISH ASS 
 
 But now we see our pedigree 
 
 Made plain as in a glass, 
 And when we grin we betray our kin l 
 To the sires of the BRITISH Ass ! 
 
 Chorus With an ASS-ASS-SOCIATION, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 1 "He who rejects with scorn the belief that the shape of his 
 own canines, and their occasional great development in other 
 men, are due to our early progenitors having been provided with 
 these formidable weapons, will probably reveal by sneering the 
 line of his descent." Darwin's Descent of Man, i. 127. 
 
THE BRITISH ASS 35 
 
 ADDITIONAL VERSE 
 (Sung at Red Lion Club, gth August 1892). 
 
 Now three times seven years have passed 
 
 Since first was heard this song, 
 And here we are again at last, 
 
 The Lions Red among ! 
 And proud are we that dwellers be 
 
 In our rocky-throned Auld Reekie, 
 To see in place of the highest grace 
 
 Our own good Archy Geikie ! 
 
SAM HALL. 
 
 A NEW VERSION. 
 
 MY name it is Old Nick, 
 Learned Counsel ! 
 My name it is Old Nick, 
 But I never learned the trick, 
 How with agents to get thick 
 Hang them all ! 
 
SAM HALL A NEW VERSION 37 
 
 I've paced for many a year 
 
 That big Hall ! 
 I've paced for many a year, 
 With a smile to hide the tear ; 
 For the agents won't come near, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
 3 
 
 W.S. and S.S.C., 
 
 S.S.C., 
 
 W.S. and S.S.C., 
 They nod courteously to me, 
 But are slow to send a fee, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
38 SAM HALL A NEW VERSION 
 
 4 
 
 Do they think I'm well to do, 
 
 Well to do ? 
 
 Do they think I'm well to do, 
 From the profits of the Ju- 
 rist ? Heavens, if they knew ! 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
 5 
 
 What boots it to have brains, 
 
 To have brains ? 
 What boots it to have brains, 
 When you find, with all your pains, 
 'Tis not that success that gains ? 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
SAM HALL A NEW VERSION 39 
 
 This truth I daily see, 
 
 Daily see, 
 
 This truth I daily see, 
 To him that hath shall given be, 
 So the chance is small for me ! 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
 7 
 
 I know the Sheriffs all, 
 
 Sheriffs all, 
 
 I know the Sheriffs all, 
 Wise and foolish, short and tall, 
 But from them my hopes are small, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
40 SAM HALL A NEW VERSION 
 
 8 
 
 The Lord Advocate is kind, 
 
 He is kind, 
 
 The Lord Advocate is kind, 
 But somehow he doesn't mind 
 Any place for me to find, 
 
 He go hang ! 
 
 9 
 
 There are always two or three, 
 
 Two or three, 
 
 There are always two or three 
 Who have stronger claims than me, 
 Or had uncles, it may be, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
SAM HALL A NEW VERSION 41 
 
 IO 
 
 I've done the best I could, 
 
 Best I could, 
 
 I've done the best I could 
 To earn my daily food, 
 And I say in pious mood, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
 (P.S.-i8 73 .) 
 Now I'm a county swell, 
 
 County swell, 
 Now I'm a county swell, 
 And the place it suits me well, 
 To be my-lorded for a spell, 
 
 Hang them all ! 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG. 
 
 AIR Agus 0, Mh6rag, 
 
 Now we're rea - dy for the march, Slope your arms, and step to-ge-ther ! 
 Chorus. 
 
 Ag-us O, Mho rag I II6-ro ! march to-ge-thcr ! Ag-us O, Mh6-rag! 
 
 Now we're ready for the march, 
 Slope your arms, and step together ! 
 
 Agus O, Mhorag ! 
 Chorus Ho-ro ! march together ! 
 Agus O, Mh6rag ! 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 43 
 
 Keep your fours, and march in order, 
 Singing chorus altogether. 
 
 Lift your heads and step out proudly, 
 Look not down, or round about you. 
 
 He that wears the kilt should be 
 Erect and free as deer on heather. 
 
 When he hears the bagpipe sound, 
 
 His heart should bound like steed for battle. 
 
 Think of them who went before us, 
 Winning glory for the tartan ! 
 
 Vainly did the mighty Roman 
 Check the Caledonian valour ; 
 
44 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 
 
 Still from each unconquered glen 
 Rose the men no yoke could fetter. 1 
 
 With the Bruce they drew they sword, 
 On the gory field of Bannock. 2 
 
 In the ranks of great Gustavus 3 
 With the bravest they were reckoned. 
 
 'Neath the banners of Montrose 
 Like a storm-cloud swept the tartan ; 4 
 
 And when fell Dundee victorious, 
 On Rinrory's blood-stained heather. 5 
 
 On the field of Fontenoy 6 
 They held nobly up their banner. 
 
 1 A.D. 79-420. 2 24th June 1314. 3 1629-32. 
 
 4 1644-46. 3 27th July 1689. 6 42nd, nth May 1745. 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 45 
 
 In the steps of Royal Charlie 
 Many a laurel did they gather, 
 
 From the rout on Preston brae 
 Till the day of black Culloden : 1 
 
 And in Fortune's darkest hour 
 Closer round him did they rally. 
 
 Thy green earth, Ticonderoga, 
 Keeps their glory fresh for ever. 2 
 
 At Quebec their pibroch shrill 
 Up the hill went breathing terror. 8 
 
 1 2ist September 1745 to i6th April 1746. 
 
 2 42nd, Eraser's Highlanders (then 78th), Montgomery's 
 Highlanders (then 77th), 7th July 1758. 
 
 3 Eraser's Highlanders, i3th September 1759. 
 
46 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 
 
 On the sands of Aboukir 
 
 Rang their cheer mid hail of bullets. 1 
 
 When Sir Ralph, the good and brave, 
 On Iskandria's plain was stricken, 
 
 Heedless of life's ebbing tide, 
 
 He stood beside his Forty-Second. 2 
 
 Many were their deeds of arms 
 'Gainst the swarms of Hyder Ali. 
 
 The grim fort of Savendroog 
 They refused not to adventure ; 
 
 1 42nd, 79th, 92nd, 8th March 1801. 
 
 2 42nd, 79th, 92nd, 2ist March 1801. 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 47 
 
 And the dizzy rock they scaled, 
 Which none dared before or after : l 
 
 Leaguered close in Mangalore, 
 Tippoo and his hordes they baffled : 2 
 
 And the Sahib's cruel power 
 'Neath Seringa's towers they buried. 3 
 
 First of many a field of war, 
 Where great Arthur ruled the battle, 
 
 Do their colours tell the tale 
 Of the famous fight of Assaye. 4 
 
 1 7ist and 72nd, 2ist December 1791. 
 
 2 73rd, May 1783 3oth January 1784. 
 
 3 73rd and 74th, 4th May 1799. 
 
 4 74th, 78th, 23rd September 1803. 
 
48 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 
 
 So the story is of Maida, 
 
 Where the pride of France they levelled. 1 
 
 On Corunna's bloody shore 
 
 Their onset gladdened Moore in dying ; 2 
 
 And on many a field of Spain, 
 To their ancient fame they added : 
 
 Talavera, 3 Fuentes d'Onor, 4 
 Vittoria, 5 Salamanca ! 6 
 
 1 78th. 4th July 1806. 
 
 2 42nd, 7ist, 92nd, i6th January 1809. 
 
 3 79th, gist, 27-28th July 1809. 
 
 4 42nd, 7ist, 74th, 7gth, gand, sth May 1811. 
 
 5 7ist, 74th, 92nd, 2ist June 1813. 
 
 6 74th, 79th, 22nd July 1812. 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 49 
 
 Badajoz, 1 Ciudad Rodrigo, 2 
 Pyrenees, 3 and San Sebastian ! 4 
 
 When they crossed the Bidassoa, 5 
 Still before them Soult retreated : 
 
 Nivelle 6 Nive 7 Orthes 8 Toulouse 9 
 Scarce the Muse their steps can follow ! 
 
 On the slopes of Quatre Bras 
 
 The Frenchmen saw them stand unbroken. 
 
 1 74th, 6th April 1812. '- igth January 1812. 
 
 3 42nd, 7ist, 74th, 79th, gist, g2nd, 28th July 1813. 
 
 4 92nd, 3ist August 1813. 
 
 5 42nd, 7ist, 74th, 79th, gist, g2nd, 7-gth October 1813. 
 
 6 loth November 1813. 7 gth December 1813. 
 8 26th February 1814. 9 loth April 1814. 
 
 E 
 
50 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 
 
 On the day of Waterloo 
 
 The pibroch blew where fire was hottest. 1 
 
 When the Alma heights were stormed, 
 Foremost went the Highland bonnets ; 2 
 
 And before their " thin red line " 
 
 The Cossack rider turned and vanished 
 
 When on India's burning plains 
 Dearly saved was Britain's honour, 
 
 Outram, Havelock, and Clyde, 
 Led the Highlanders to conquest. 4 
 
 1 42nd, 7ist, 7yd, 79th, 92nd, i6th and i8th June 1815. 
 
 2 42nd, 79th, 93rd, 2oth September 1854. 
 
 3 93rd, 25th October 1854. 
 
 4 July 1857 November 1858. 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 51 
 
 Joyful rang the pibroch loud 
 
 Through the sounding streets of Lucknow ; 
 
 And, like angels sent to save, 
 Came the brave ones to the rescue. 1 
 
 When Ashantee's savage lord 
 Loosed his dusky hordes for havoc, 
 
 Through Adansi's horrid wood 2 
 In order good they led the battle ; 
 
 And their stately tramp awakened 
 Thy forsaken streets, Coomassie ! 3 
 
 1 78th, 25th September 1857. 42nd, 78th, 79th, 93rd, 
 igth March 1858. 
 
 2 42nd (with 135 of the 79th), 315! January 1874. 
 
 3 4th February 1874. 
 
52 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 
 
 When we smote the Afghan bold, 
 As of old there shone the tartan : 
 
 From Cabul to Candahar, 
 
 Glorious was the march with Roberts : 
 
 Nor shall he that war who ruled, 
 Donald Stewart, be forgotten ! l 
 
 On Egyptian sands they bore, 
 
 Yet once more, the brunt of battle ; 
 
 Rushing, with terrific cheer, 
 On Tel-el-Kebfr resistless ; 2 
 
 1 72nd, 92nd, 8-i3th August, ist September 1880. 
 
 2 42nd, 72nd, 74th, 75th, 78th (2 companies), 7gth, I3th 
 September 1882. 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 53 
 
 As the Red Sea's mountain tide 
 Swept o'er Pharaoh's pride triumphant ! 
 
 As it was in days of yore, 
 So the story shall be ever : 
 
 Where the doughtiest deeds are dared, 
 Shall the Gael be forward pressing : 
 
 Where the Highland broadsword waves, 
 There shall graves be found the thickest. 
 
 But when they have sheathed the sword, 
 Then their glory is to succour ; 
 
 Hearts that scorn the thought of fear 
 Melt to tears at touch of pity ; 
 
54 A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG. 
 
 Hands that fiercest smite in war 
 Have the warmest grasp for brothers ; 
 
 And beneath the tartan plaid 
 Wife and maid find gentlest lover. 
 
 Think, then, of the name ye bear, 
 Ye that wear the Highland tartan ! 
 
 Jealous of its old renown, 
 
 Hand it down without a blemish ! 
 
 Agus O, Mh6rag ! 
 
 H6-r6 ! march together ! 
 
 Agus O, Mh6rag ! 
 
 [The air and leading words of the chorus are borrowed 
 from one of the most popular songs of Alexander M 'Donald 
 (MacMhaighstir Alasdair), the Tyrtaeus of the '45, in which 
 
A HIGHLAND MARCHING SONG 55 
 
 Prince Charlie is addressed as a beautiful golden - haired 
 maiden named Morag (Little Marion). The peculiar rhyme 
 of the Gaelic (assonance 'march' and 'arms,' 'order and 
 'chorus,' etc.) is imitated. ' Mhorag,' pronounced Voerak, 
 is the voc. case of ' Morag,' and the three leading words of 
 the chorus mean simply, And 0, thou little Marion ! an im- 
 passioned expression of affection towards the young Chevalier. 
 Pains have been taken to make this composition a correct 
 historical summary of the chief achievements of Highland 
 warriors, from the earliest times to their latest battle. The 
 dates are given in chronological order, with one exception. 
 The Regiments engaged from 1745 to 1815, and the dates, 
 are given chiefly on the authority of General Stewart of Garth. 
 The first edition of the song was made in 1865. It is impos- 
 sible to say when it will end. ] 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE : 
 
 AN EDINBURGH SUMMER SONG. 
 
 THE beautiful isles of Greece 
 
 Full many a bard hath sung ; 
 
 But the isles I love best lie far in the west 
 
 Where men speak the Gaelic tongue. 
 
 Ithaca, Cyprus, and Rhodes, 
 
 Are names to the Muses dear ; 
 
 But sweeter still doth Icolmkill 
 
 Fall on a Scotsman's ear. 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE 57 
 
 Let them sing of the sunny South, 
 
 Where the blue ^Egean smiles, 
 
 But give to me the Scottish sea 
 
 That breaks round the Western Isles ! 
 
 Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome, 
 
 I would see them before I die, 
 
 But I'd rather not see any one of the three 
 
 Than be exiled for ever from Skye ! 
 
 3 
 
 What are the wonders there, 
 Stranger, dost ask of me ? 
 What is there not ? I reply like a Scot, 
 For him who hath eyes to see. 
 
58 THE ISLE OF SKYE 
 
 But if you're a delicate man, 
 And of wetting your skin are shy, 
 I'd have you know, before you go, 
 You had better not think of Skye ! 
 
 4 
 
 Lovest thou mountains great, 
 Peaks to the clouds that soar, 
 Corrie and fell where eagles dwell, 
 And cataracts dash evermore ? 
 Lovest thou green grassy glades, 
 By the sunshine sweetly kist, 
 Murmuring waves, and echoing caves ? 
 Then go to the Isle of Mist ! 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE 59 
 
 5 
 
 The Matterhorn's good for a fall, 
 If climbing you have no skill in, 
 But a place as good to make ravens' food 
 You will find upon Scoor-na-Gillian. 
 And there you will see at Strathaird 
 That Grotto of glittering spar, 
 With its limpid pool, where Mermaids cool 
 Their brows when they travel from far. 
 
 There frowns the dark Coruisk, 
 Which made the great Wizard wonder, 
 Even Voltaire might have worshipped there, 
 Methinks, in the time of thunder ; 
 
60 THE ISLE OF SKYE 
 
 There towers the wild Cuiraing, 
 
 With its battlements grim and high, 
 
 And the mighty Storr, with its pinnacles hoar, 
 
 Standing against the sky. 
 
 Sail round the cliffy west, 
 
 And, rising out of the main, 
 
 You there shall see the Maidens three, 
 
 Like Choosers of the Slain ; 
 
 And go wherever you may, 
 
 With a new and deep surprise, 
 
 The Coolin blue will fill your view, 
 
 And fix your gazing eyes. 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE 61 
 
 Were I a Sovereign Prince, 
 
 Or Professor at large in vacation, 
 
 I'd build me a tower in the Isle of Skye 
 
 At the expense of the Nation ; 
 
 And there like a Sea-King I'd reign, 
 
 But with a more gentle rule 
 
 I'd harry no cattle, nor slay any man, 
 
 But I'd drive all the children to school. 
 
 9 
 
 There in the bright summer days, 
 Stretched on the sward I would be, 
 And gaze to the west on Blaven's crest, 
 Towering above the sea ; 
 
62 THE ISLE OF SKYE 
 
 And I'd watch the billowing mist 
 
 Roll down his mighty side, 
 
 While up from the shore would come evermore 
 
 The music of the tide. 
 
 10 
 
 And when the sun sinks to his rest, 
 
 'Mid glory of purple and red, 
 
 There will flash the light of a thousand spears 
 
 On Blaven's cloudy head ; 
 
 And each turreted ridge of black 
 
 Is lit with a flame of gold, 
 
 As they hang on high, 'twixt earth and sky, 
 
 A wondrous sight to behold ! 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE 63 
 
 II 
 
 Pleasant it is to be here, 
 
 With friends in company, 
 
 But I would fly to the Isle of Skye 
 
 To-morrow, if I were free ! 
 
 Dunedin is queenly and fair 
 
 None feels it more than I 
 
 But in the prime of the summer-time, 
 
 Give me the Isle of Skye ! 
 
THE LORD PRESIDENT. 
 
 A PARLIAMENT HOUSE DITTY. 
 AIR There's nae luck about the house. 
 
 AND are you sure the news is true, 
 
 That's bruited through the town ? 
 The JUSTICE-GENERAL, they say, 
 
 Is giving up his gown. 
 Is this a time to joke and laugh, 
 
 And twirl the careless heel ? 
 'Twill be another House, methinks, 
 
 When we have lost M'NEILL ! 
 
THE LORD PRESIDENT 65 
 
 More famous wits we may have had, 
 
 More skilled in various lore ; 
 And now, alas ! their names are few 
 
 On classic page that pore : 
 More bold expounders of the law 
 
 Might on the Bench be seen, 
 But in that chair, once filled by STAIR, 
 
 No better head hath been. 
 
 I saw him not in those great days 
 
 Of which the ancients talk, 
 When giants paced the floor, where now 
 
 They say that pigmies walk. 
 F 
 
66 THE LORD PRESIDENT 
 
 I saw not in its splendid prime 
 
 The glowing Celtic fire 
 Which, lighting up cold reason's track, 
 
 Even Saxons could admire. 
 
 I saw him only in the days 
 
 When in that highest place 
 He sat, a venerable form, 
 
 Which Time had touched with grace. 
 It seemed as if for him that seat 
 
 Had been alone ordained, 
 So easily, by native right 
 
 Of chieftainship, he reigned. 
 
 To his assessors on the Bench 
 Due deference did he pay, 
 
THE LORD PRESIDENT 67 
 
 Far from his nature was the pride 
 
 Of domineering sway ; 
 To youth unskilled how kind in aid ! 
 
 To weakest brethren bland ; 
 Impatient only to the man 
 
 That vainly hid his hand. 
 
 Of eye unerring to discern 
 
 Where difficulty lay, 
 But never forward to object, 
 
 Or stop a speaker's way : 
 By nature prone to step aside 
 
 Where dubious was the ground, 
 If erring, erring on the side 
 
 Where safety might be found. 
 
68 THE LORD PRESIDENT 
 
 From mingled web of law and fact, 
 
 Who has his equal seen 
 To ravel out the threads of truth, 
 
 And redd the tangled skein ? 
 No pomp of logic cleared the path 
 
 That led him to the light, 
 Where others toiled to prove, he saw 
 
 By gift of Second Sight. 
 
 A goodly sight it was to see 
 The balance of his thought, 
 
 Now swaying this way and now that, 
 As pro and con he brought, 
 
THE LORD PRESIDENT 69 
 
 And laid them in the well-poised scales, 
 
 Till, as they equal seem, 
 The final grains of common sense 
 
 And justice turn the beam. 
 
 No thought of shining ever moved 
 
 His large and manly mind, 
 That with a noble negligence 
 
 Threw showy arts behind ; 
 Yet none in few and fitting words 
 
 Choice thoughts could better clothe ; 
 Loving the substance more than form, 
 
 He won and mastered both. 
 
 Then fare thee well, Lord President ! 
 With honour, as with years, 
 
70 THE LORD PRESIDENT 
 
 Thou goest crowned, to take thy place 
 Of right with Britain's Peers. 
 
 Our hearts attend thee from this House, 
 And come what changes may, 
 
 We'll ne'er forget, nor see the like 
 Of BARON COLONSAY ! 
 
 From the Reporters Box, First Division, 
 February 1867. 
 
ARDMILLAN, 1871. 
 
 THREE summer days, with full content, 
 Among Ardmillan's braes I spent ; 
 Four nights, within its sheltered keep, 
 The ocean's murmur sooth'd my sleep : 
 And often still, in quiet hours, 
 I think upon Ardmillan's bowers, 
 O'erhung by wooded slopes that lie 
 'Neath grassy ridges, stretching high. 
 Sheltered by many an ancient tree, 
 The ancient house stands pleasantly. 
 
72 ARDMILLAN, 1871 
 
 It looks across the western brine, 
 And sees the light of morning shine 
 Where Ailsa, towering from the deep, 
 Upheaves on high her forehead steep. 
 Its turrets catch the golden fire 
 When sinks the sun beyond Kintyre, 
 And wide the shifting glories spread 
 Their deepening hues of royal red 
 Where, farther north, in outline grand, 
 The peaks of Arran face the land 
 To which poetic fancy turns 
 With deepest love, the land of Burns ! 
 How pleasant, on the breezy height, 
 To watch the great sea gleaming bright, 
 With light and shade in endless chase 
 Careering o'er the azure space ; 
 
ARDMILLAN, 1871 73 
 
 While stately ships pass to and fro 
 Like ocean birds on wings of snow, 
 And from the beach comes measur'd roar 
 Of billows breaking on the shore ! 
 Beneath those hospitable towers 
 How peaceful glide the summer hours ! 
 Sweet odours float on breath of balm, 
 And all around is bright and calm : 
 From the deep umbrage of the trees 
 Come voice of birds and hum of bees, 
 While human voices, sweeter still, 
 The air with pleasant music fill. 
 O happy home of kindness warm, 
 Thine are the secret and the charm 
 That makes it sunshine all the year 
 To him who finds a welcome here ! 
 
74 ARDMILLAN, 1871 
 
 Though clouds o'ercast the outer sky, 
 Love's halcyon light and beaming eye 
 Reign round the warm and cheerful hearth 
 Where pristine piety and worth 
 Keep bright and pure the fire of life, 
 Despite the world, and worldly strife. 
 Here mellow wisdom's ample store 
 Is graced with wealth of letter'd lore, 
 And Milton's self might here have found 
 Congenial home, on Scottish ground, 
 For the high Muse that, holding dear 
 Castalia's fount of waters clear, 
 Delighted more in Sion hill, 
 And purl of Kedron's holy rill. 
 
THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD 
 
 OR 
 
 THE LORD KNOWS WHO. 
 
 AIR The Laird of Cockpen. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 i 
 
 WHEN worthy old Manor passed gently away, 
 Oppressed with the work and the cares of the day, 
 The question arose, who should sit in his chair, 
 The Outer House burden and glory to share. 
 
76 THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD 
 
 That House, to our sorrow, at present contains 
 But one man whom Heaven has gifted with brains, 
 And therefore the question is pressing and grave, 
 Who now shall go in there, our credit to save. 
 
 3 
 
 There's Gifford the long-haired, with beak like a 
 
 bird, 
 
 Whose talk on the platform is often absurd, 
 But a lawyer well furnished and able is he, 
 And an excellent judge, without doubt, he would be. 
 
THE LA Y OF THE NEW LORD 77 
 
 4 
 
 There's Donald the jaunty, so tall and so trim, 
 With knowledge so boundless no doubt about 
 
 him ! 
 When he pleads, one may sometimes exclaim, 
 
 " What a cure ! " 
 But no one would grudge him the place, I am sure. 
 
 5 
 There's learned Patrick Fraser, least blate among 
 
 men, 
 Who has done much hard work, both with tongue 
 
 and with pen. 
 
 He sticks not at trifles, and is not refined, 
 But one claim he has got, and that is a mind. 
 
78 THE LA Y OF THE NE W LORD 
 
 There's wee Archie Davidson, solemn of jowl, 
 As prim as a sparrow, as wise as an owl, 
 A nephew of Cockburn he chanced to be born, 
 And therefore predestined the Bench to adorn. 
 
 7 
 
 One yet is to mention, the great little Shand, 
 So pawky and clever, so nice and so bland ; 
 He hopes in due time to become a Q.C., 
 So pray do not shelve him just yet for a wee. 
 
THE LA Y OF THE NEW LORD 79 
 
 8 
 
 There are others, it's said, but let them understand 
 That a line must be drawn, and we draw it at Shand. 
 So if any one knocks, we must show him the door, 
 Were he sheriff, or seraph, a hundred times o'er. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 i 
 
 Now a month had gone past, and no mortal could 
 
 say 
 
 Which of these learned horses would carry the day ; 
 With riches embarrassed, Lord Advocate Young 
 Cannot settle the matter, and so holds his tongue. 
 
8o THE LA Y OF THE NEW LORD 
 
 One morning our Donald was radiant to see, 
 And all of us thought 'twas a. fait accompli, 
 But ere evening the rumour was voted untrue, 
 For Donald, for once in his lifetime, looked blue. 
 
 3 
 
 The next day bold Patrick so sweetly did smile, 
 That the hopes of his backers went up for a while ; 
 But the pleasing delusion soon passed, and was o'er, 
 And Patrick paced heavily on as before. 
 
THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD 81 
 
 Last Tuesday wee Davidson strode through the 
 
 hall, 
 From the Advocate's Chambers, so pompous and 
 
 tall, 
 
 That every one said, he was sure of the gown, 
 But on Friday they doubted, so deep was his frown. 
 
 5 
 
 And so, four whole weeks, does the mystery brood, 
 Supplying the guessers and betters with food, 
 While Crichton and Thorns, on the rack all the 
 while, 
 
 Though nearly demented, are trying to smile. 
 G 
 
82 THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD 
 
 Now isn't it truly a glorious state 
 
 That our wealth in fit men for the Bench is so 
 
 great, 
 
 A month we require, and can freely afford, 
 To make up our mind on a Junior Lord. 
 
 Some, puzzled, the horrible rumour let fall, 
 That nobody's going to be judge after all ; 
 M'Lennan may like that, but so do not I, 
 By the beard of Belhaven, I hope it's a lie ! 
 
THE LAY OF THE NEW LORD 83 
 
 8 
 
 Then long live the Queen and her Councillor Bruce, 
 Whom Tories profanely denounce as a goose ; 
 And whatever he gives us, we will not refuse, 
 There's as bad on the Bench as the worst he can 
 choose. 
 
HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA. 
 
 [MR. SKENE, in Vol. II. of his Celtic Scotland, p. 91, de- 
 scribing the scenery of lona, says : " On the highest point, 
 overlooking the expanse of the western sea, is the cairn called 
 Cul-ri-Erin, which marks the spot where Columba is said to 
 have ascended for the purpose of ascertaining if he could dis- 
 cern from it the distant shores of his beloved Erin. Among 
 the poems attributed to him, there is one which so remark- 
 ably describes the scene from this spot, and the emotions it 
 was calculated to excite in one of his temperament, that it is 
 hardly possible to avoid the conclusion that it contains the 
 genuine expression of his feelings. " The original of this very 
 interesting poem is among the Irish MSS. in the Royal 
 Library at Brussels, 1 the keeper of which, M. Alen, kindly 
 supplied the copy from which the text is given. It has had 
 the advantage of being collated by the learned Dean of 
 Armagh with another copy, made by the late Professor 
 O'Curry, whose admirably faithful translation is given by 
 Mr. Skene. The words of that translation have been adopted 
 
 1 Burgund. MSS. No. 5100, pp. 34, 35. 
 
HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 85 
 
 in this version in many cases, with very little alteration. For 
 the accuracy of the text of the original, the present translator 
 is indebted to Dr. Reeves and Mr. Skene, with whom it is 
 an honour for any Celtic student to be associated in the 
 humblest way. Of the beauty of the original it is unnecessary 
 to say anything for those who can appreciate it. A. N.] 
 
 I 
 SWEET is to me in Uchd Aluinn, 1 
 
 On a peaked crag to be, 
 That I might often behold 
 
 The face of the boundless sea. 
 
 To look on the heaving waves, 
 
 While in their Father's ear 
 Music for ever they chant, 
 
 Hymning the world's career. 
 
 1 Lovely Breast. The rocky heights on the south-west of 
 lona are called Uchddchan at this day. 
 
36 HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 
 
 3 
 
 The level and star-bright strand 
 No sorrow it were to see, 
 
 And to hear the wondrous birds, 
 Sailing on happily. 
 
 4 
 The thunder of crowding waves 
 
 To hear on the rocky shore, 
 And down by the church to hear 
 
 The sounding surges roar. 
 
 5 
 
 To see the swift-flying flocks 
 Over the watery plain, 
 
 And, greatest of wonders all, 
 The monsters of the main. 
 
HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 87 
 
 6 
 To see the ebb and the flood 
 
 In power upon the sea, 
 And Cul-ri-Erin 1 there, I say, 
 
 My secret name would be. 
 
 7 
 And grief would come to my heart, 
 
 While gazing to her shore, 
 And all the many ills I've done 
 
 I weeping would deplore. 
 
 8 
 The Godhead then would I bless, 
 
 Him who doth all things keep, 
 Heaven with its orders bright untold, 
 
 And earth and shore and deep. 
 
 1 Back turned to Ireland Erin no more ! 
 
HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 
 
 9 
 
 I would search in all the books 
 
 That good to my soul would bring, 
 
 Now to beloved Heaven I'd kneel, 
 And now a Psalm I'd sing. 
 
 Heaven's high one, the holy Chief, 
 My thoughts would now employ, 
 
 Anon, to work without constraint 
 Would be to me a joy. 
 
 ii 
 Dulse from the rocks I would pluck, 
 
 At times I'd fishing go, 
 At times I would feed the poor, 
 
 Now in the cell bend low. 
 
HYMN BY ST. COLUMBA 89 
 
 12 
 
 Best counsel in the sight of God 
 To me there hath been given, 
 
 From error He shall keep me free, 
 My King, the Lord of Heaven ! 
 
A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE. 
 
 (Sung at the Reporters' Dinner, Queensferry, 2Oth July 1877. ) 
 AIR The Two, Corbies. 
 
 I 
 
 IF you desire a merry lay 
 Then ask it not of me, I pray ; 
 My harp hangs on a willow tree 
 Beside the banks of southern Dee. 
 
 2 
 
 My thoughts are not of anything 
 So light as framing rhymes to sing, 
 Both day and night, instead of songs, 
 I muse intent on rights and wrongs. 
 
A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE 91 
 
 3 
 
 I now sit in the curule chair 
 Once filled by him so good and fair, 
 Whose charms, like Phcebus ever young, 
 By Glassford Bell were fitly sung. 
 
 4 
 
 I wonder not that Bell did grieve, 
 And scarcely could the truth believe, 
 That such a swell should banished be 
 To live and die in Kirkcubree. 
 
 5 
 
 For though it be a bonnie town, 
 An ancient burg, of good renown, 
 No Rip Van Winkle yet am I, 
 Contented there asleep to lie. 
 
92 A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE 
 
 6 
 
 But yet let no one think it strange 
 That human life brings many a change, 
 A man from duns to keep him free 
 Might choose to live in Kirkcubree. 
 
 7 
 
 If man's chief end were vegetation, 
 No better place is in creation, 
 Quiet Peebles' self can scarce compare 
 With Cuthbert's Kirk for dreamful air. 
 
 Yet higher ends appear to me 
 Than that my bulk increased should be, 
 Even sensual pleasures I have seen 
 More sweet than cups with Whisky Jean. 
 
A LAY OF K1RKCUBREE 93 
 
 9 
 
 If you desire the truth to know 
 How I to such a place did go, 
 And leave the well-beloved town, 
 Of Scotland's pride the stately crown, 
 
 10 
 
 That truth I freely will confess, 
 'Twas S.S.C. and W.S. 
 Yes ! W.S. and S.S.C. 
 Too small attention paid to me. 
 
 ii 
 
 Perhaps the fellows thought also 
 That I for them no love did show, 
 Because my choice of company 
 Has never been an S.S.C. 
 
94 A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE 
 
 12 
 
 Some others thought, so I was told, 
 That I was not in want of gold ; 
 They held me for a Highland laird, 
 Who not a pin for cases cared ! 
 
 13 
 
 For such mistakes their eyes I blame, 
 And yet forgive them all the same ; 
 My ancient namesake will take care 
 That each to his due place shall fare. 
 
 14 
 
 Now do not think, my brothers dear, 
 That life for me has lost its cheer, 
 I still am game for six score mile, 
 With you an evening to beguile. 
 
A LAY OF KIRKCUBREE 95 
 
 15 
 
 And many a day I hope to see, 
 To meet the sons of S. and Z?. 1 
 Whom Rettie rules with anxious care, 
 So luck betide them ever mair ! 
 
 1 Shaw and Dunlop's Reports. 
 
TO PROFESSOR BLACKIE, ON HIS 
 RETURN FROM EGYPT. 
 
 (Sung at the Festival of the B.B., 27th December 1878.) 
 
 AlR Donald Cairo? s come again. 
 
 I 
 
 BLACKIE to the East has been, 
 Memnon and the Sphinx has seen, 
 Up the waters of the Nile 
 He has sweated many a mile, 
 Seeing with believing eyes 
 Plague of dust and plague of flies, 
 
TO PROFESSOR BLACKIE 97 
 
 Deaved by blackies nude as frogs, 
 
 Shouting beggars, howling dogs ! 
 
 Chorus Now his troubles all are o'er, 
 Welcome to the Professor ! 
 Tell the news in brugh and glen, 
 Blackie he is come agen ! 
 
 Did you ever hear his hymn 
 On the land of Mizraim ? 
 Chanting with a Gaelic chorus 
 To Osiris, Ra, and Horus ! 
 Thoughts of heather all the while 
 Cheered him on the muddy Nile ; 
 
98 TO PROFESSOR BLACKIE 
 
 Never fainer man than he 
 Stood again on Oban quay. 
 
 Chorus To the land of heath and ben 
 He is welcome back agen ! etc. 
 
 3 
 
 Many were his lively jinks 
 In the country of the Sphinx, 
 Natives he astonished there, 
 Copt and Moslem he gar'd stare ; 
 Quick of Arabs he got rid, 
 Climbing Cheops' Pyramid, 
 And when on the top he sprung, 
 " Scots wha hae," with birr he sung. 
 
 Chorus To the land of Bruce and Burns 
 Very welcome he returns ! etc. 
 
ON HIS RETURN FROM EGYPT 99 
 
 4 
 
 Here we have him back once more, 
 Laden with Egyptian lore, 
 More he kens now, doubt it not, 
 Than was known to Herodot, 
 Secrets hidden in the tongue 
 That was guessed at first by Young, 
 Making known by pictured things 
 Doughty deeds of thick-lipped kings. 
 Chorus Yes, of secrets known to few 
 
 Blackie knows a thing or two ! etc. 
 
 5 
 
 Blackie can do anything, 
 Sermon preach, or ballad sing, 
 
loo TO PROFESSOR BLACKIE 
 
 Write a book, or climb a peak, 
 Chat in Gaelic, or in Greek ; 
 Ever learning something new, 
 Holding fast the good and true, 
 What he trows he tells right free, 
 'A.\i)6V(i)v ev ayaTrr) I 
 
 Chorus Blackie he is here agen, 
 
 Ready aye with tongue or pen ! etc. 
 
 While men love the Gaelic tongue 
 Ever shall his praise be sung, 
 More than all their chiefs had done, 
 Blackie for the Gael has won ; 
 
ON HIS RETURN FROM EGYPT 101 
 
 Now the Celtic Muse shall be 
 Set in place of high degree, 
 Where the light of lore doth beam 
 In King James' Academe ! 
 
 Chorus Let the land of Duncan Bain 
 
 Echo to the cheerful strain ! etc. 
 
 7 
 
 Now with spirits full of glee 
 Blackie in his place we see, 
 Scotland when he was away 
 Seemed more empty than to-day : 
 Let the times be e'er so sad, 
 Let the world go e'er so mad, 
 
TO PROFESSOR BLACKIE 
 
 Pious thanks and cheerful mood 
 
 Well become this Brotherhood ! 
 
 Chorus Sing then, ye unworldly men, 
 Blackie he is come agen, 
 Tell the news in brugh and glen, 
 Blackie he is come agen ! 
 
SONG FOR THE 
 NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER. 
 
 2ND FEBRUARY 1872. 
 
 AIR A wet Sheet and a flowing Sea. 
 
 I 
 
 O WOULD that I a Sheriff were ! 
 
 I heard a young man sigh, 
 O might I but a Sheriff be, 
 
 A happy man were I ! 
 My pockets should be lined with gold, 
 
 Which now are bare of tin, 
 My cheeks should wear health's ruddy glow, 
 
 Which now are gaunt and thin. 
 
104 SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 
 
 if I were the Sheriff of 
 A county by the sea, 
 
 1 would not envy any man, 
 
 However high he be ; 
 I do not mean a Substitute, 
 
 Far higher I aspire ; 
 A Sheriff-Depute's place is that 
 
 Which stirs my bosom's fire. 
 
 3 
 The office of a Sheriff is 
 
 A good thing in itself, 
 It bringeth power and dignity, 
 
 And a moderate share of pelf ; 
 
SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 105 
 
 But ever to my fancy still, 
 
 The best of all his rights, 
 Is that he shines, with steady ray, 
 
 Among the Northern Lights ! 
 
 4 
 
 'Tis pleasant, for a single night 
 
 Among those lights to shine ; 
 But oh ! to be a fixed star, 
 
 I would that lot were mine ! 
 I'd barter all the hope I have 
 
 Lord President to be ; 
 If only I could be made sure, 
 
 Of a county by the sea ! 
 
106 SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 
 
 5 
 How joyous on the Pharos 1 deck, 
 
 In charge of Captain Graham, 
 In Public Safety's 1 noble cause 
 
 To dare the " saut sea faem " ! 
 In such a ship, in such a cause, 
 
 It's happy I should be 
 To visit every blessed light 
 
 That guards the Scottish Sea ! 
 
 6 
 Right gladly for the public weal 
 
 I'd visit Skerryvore, 
 Where the wondrous work of Stevenson 
 
 Defies the Atlantic roar ! 
 
 1 In salutem omnium is the motto of the Northern Lights 
 Commissioners. 
 
SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 107 
 
 And be the weather what it might, 
 
 Of sea, or wind, or rain ; 
 The black Dubh Hirteach I should hail, 
 
 Out in the lonely main ! 
 
 7 
 To Barra Head I fain would go, 
 
 And climb the dizzy height 
 Where o'er the cliffs of Berneray 
 
 Doth flash the far-seen light. 1 
 Then on to Heisker I should go, 
 
 And eke to Scalpay's Isle ; 
 And to see the Butt of Lewis light 
 
 I'd travel many a mile. 
 
 1 This light is seen at 32 miles, the farthest distance at which 
 any of the 60 Northern Lights is visible. Cape Wrath, 30 
 miles, comes next. 
 
io8 SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 
 
 8 
 
 From thence to Ronay I should cross, 
 And the time would not seem long 
 That was spent about the shores of Skye, 
 
 Fit theme for poet's song ! 
 i 
 To wild Cape Wrath I then should steer, 
 
 Washed by the Arctic wave ; 
 And eastward on by Dunnet Head, 
 Where the Pentland waters rave. 
 
 9 
 In Orkney and in Shetland isles 
 
 To me it would be joy 
 To visit every light that shines 
 
 'Twixt farthest Unst and Hoy. 
 
SONG FOR NORTHERN LIGHTS DINNER 109 
 
 why did perverse fate to Thorns 
 That Island realm assign ? 
 
 1 like Thorns well, but truth to tell, 
 
 I would his berth were mine ! 
 
 Thus sang the fond and foolish Bard, 
 
 And breathed his wishes vain, 
 As well he may try the Minch to dry 
 
 As hope such prize to gain ! 
 But blame him not, ye Northern Lights, 
 
 For happy still is he 
 At your bright board, with good things stored, 
 
 A welcome guest to be ! 
 
THE HEATHER. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 O SWEET is the breath of the heather 
 On braes of the Highlands that blows, 
 
 rich is its bloom when at evening 
 The hills glow in purple and rose ! 
 
 1 sit on the slopes of Loch Etive, 
 
 The heather is up to my knee, 
 
 I look to the west, where the islands 
 
 Arise from the far-gleaming sea. 
 
THE HEATHER 
 
 The peak of the mighty Ben Cruachan 
 Above me soars up in the mist, 
 
 Below, by the waters of Etive, 
 
 The feet of the proud one are kist. 
 
 I see the grey strength of Dunstaffnage 
 Keeping ward on the way of the seas, 
 
 And faintly the roaring of Connal 
 Is heard in the lull of the breeze. 
 
 Here, lapped in the stillness of Nature, 
 Afar from the dwellings of men, 
 
 My spirit is rapt by the magic 
 
 That breathes over mountain and glen. 
 
112 THE HEATHER 
 
 Around are the footprints of Fingal, 
 And Ossian, the last of his race ; 
 
 Here Dermid and Oscar and Fillan 
 Have wakened the storm of the chase. 
 
 O voices of heroes long vanished, 
 
 Ye live, overcoming the tomb, 
 While lingers the music of Ossian 
 
 Round hills where the heather doth bloom ! 
 
 Where glances the light on the waters 
 That dash betwixt Mull and Lismore, 
 
 The long-ships of Hako went flashing, 
 The Raven to battle that bore. 
 
THE HEATHER 113 
 
 O valiant offspring of Odin ! 
 
 The drop of your blood that's in me 
 Still fires at the thought of the prowess 
 
 That made you the kings of the sea. 
 
 Beneath yonder slope good King Robert, 
 When the brooch from his shoulder was torn, 
 
 Cut his way through the pass which he redden'd 
 With the blood of the clansmen of Lorn. 
 
 O conquering sword of King Robert ! 
 
 How good to have followed with thee, 
 To strike a strong blow for old Scotland, 
 
 The day that she rose to be free ! 
 i 
 
114 THE HEATHER 
 
 The wind from the heights of Glen Etive 
 Comes laden with voices of woe 
 
 Tis the dirge that for ever and ever 
 Is borne from the depths of Glencoe. 
 
 O ghosts of the brave Clan Maclan ! 
 
 Still yours is that terrible glen, 
 Once blithe with the voices of children, 
 
 The gladness of women and men. 
 
 I think of the days of Prince Charlie, 
 
 When the North spent its valour in vain, 
 
 And the blood of the brave and the loyal 
 Was poured at Culloden like rain. 
 
THE HEATHER 115 
 
 Now past like the mist on the mountains 
 
 Are the days when such deeds could be done ; 
 
 The clansmen are scattered for ever, 
 The race of the chieftains is run. 
 
 And gone are the green-coated Fairies 
 That brightened the hillside of old, 
 
 The witches that rode on the tempest, 
 The Gruagach x that haunted the fold. 
 
 And past are the sights dread and solemn 
 Vouchsafed to the eye of the seer, 
 
 The lights, and the sounds, and the phantoms, 
 That filled every clachan with fear. 
 
 1 A long-haired friendly sprite, of the Brownie species, but 
 female. 
 
H6 THE HEATHER 
 
 The life of the days that have fleeted 
 Comes back not with vision or spell ; 
 
 So rest ye, dim shadows of cloudland 
 Ye Fairies, for ever farewell ! 
 
 O thoughts of the past ! ye bring sadness, 
 And vain is the wish that once more 
 
 The great grassy glens that are silent 
 Were homes of the brave as of yore. 
 
 Sleep, brave ones and bards that have perished, 
 And green be your places of rest, 
 
 And light be the winds that go sighing 
 
 O'er the children whom Nature loved best. 
 
THE HEATHER 117 
 
 The soft dewy steps of the gloaming 
 Are climbing the sides of the Ben, 
 
 The last flush of light crowns with glory 
 The Herdman l that watches the glen. 
 
 Here, wrapped in my plaid in the heather, 
 
 I envy no monarch his bed. 
 Come, dreams of the hills and the Highlands, 
 
 And visit in slumber my head. 
 
 1 Buachaill Etive, the principal mountain at the head of 
 the glen. 
 
THE RUSH TO THE BAR. 
 A SONG FOR A RECENT FACULTY DINNER. 
 
 BY AN EXAMINATOR. 
 
 AIR The Low- Backed Car. 
 
 Now listen, and I'll sing you 
 Some light and artless rhymes ; 
 
 We need such lays, our hearts to raise, 
 In these distressful times. 
 
THE RUSH TO THE BAR 119 
 
 The song that I will sing you 
 
 Is not of deeds of war, 
 But about the lads, that come in squads, 
 
 To join the Scottish Bar. 
 Chorus To enter the ranks of the Bar, 
 
 They are flocking from near and far ! 
 I think they are mad, but still I am glad 
 That there should be such faith in the 
 Bar. 
 
 No year that we remember, 
 
 Such a crop of them has seen ; 
 
 There have passed, since last December, 
 Not less than SEVENTEEN ! 
 
120 THE RUSH TO THE BAR 
 
 And Eight have paid their entrance fees, 
 
 Who'll pass, no doubt, next year, 
 To walk the boards, and increase the hoards 
 
 The widows' souls that cheer. 
 Chorus Such a rush as there is to the Bar, 
 In spite of hard times and war ! 
 Their wigs when they don, I hope they'll 
 
 get on, 
 And be pleased that they came to the Bar. 
 
 3 
 To us behind the scenes here 
 
 The sight seems rather strange, 
 For trade is slack, though there's no lack 
 
 Of movement and of change ; 
 
THE RUSH TO THE BAR 121 
 
 Our prizes are not many, 
 
 And when a chance we see, 
 The question now seems always how 
 
 The post may abolished be ! 
 Chorus But yet they come on to the Bar, 
 Each hoping to prove a star, 
 The places to fill, that are vacant still, 
 Of the former great lights of the Bar. 
 
 4 
 
 To the learned Examinators 
 
 You'll justice do, I'm sure, 
 Their work has been, as you may ween, 
 
 This year no sinecure. 
 
122 THE RUSH TO THE BAR 
 
 Tis reckoned a proof of vigour 
 
 To yield at a birth two or more, 
 But what will you say, when in one day 
 
 Our Faculty brought forth FOUR ! 
 Chorus Thus we keep up the life of the Bar, 
 And from dread of extinction are far ! 
 While promising boys come to add to our 
 
 joys, 
 And share in the luck of the Bar. 
 
 5 
 
 Then pledge the bold young jurists 
 Who have joined our ranks this year, 
 
 Their healths we'll drink, whatever we think 
 Of the folly that brings them here ! 
 
THE RUSH TO THE BAR 123 
 
 I hope they have private fortunes, 
 
 To furnish the sinews of war ; 
 If not, let us pray, they never may say, 
 
 "We were daft when we thought of the Bar." 
 Chorus So let them come on to the Bar, 
 
 Things can scarcely be worse than they are! 
 Here's success to the lads, who are coming 
 
 in squads, 
 To prove that there's life in the Bar ! 
 
 2j,rd December 1870. 
 
AT KYLE RHEA. 
 
 27TH JUNE 1878. 
 
 [During the severe thunderstorm which raged in Skye last 
 week, a fatal occurrence took place. The people living at a 
 house at Kyle Rhea were conducting family worship during 
 the prevalence of the storm on Thursday night, and on rising 
 from their kneeling posture they discovered the sad fact that 
 one of their number, a girl of fifteen years of age, was quite 
 dead, having been evidently struck by lightning. Scotsman, 
 2nd July 1878.] 
 
 IT was a lowly cottage, 
 On the shore of the Misty Isle, 
 Where towers dark Beinn-na-Caillich 
 Above the rushing Kyle. 
 
A 7 KYLE RHEA 125 
 
 It was the height of summer, 
 At the close of a long June day, 
 When the good man " took the books," 
 For the hour had come to pray. 
 
 Without were elements warring, 
 Within was peace and calm ; 
 'Mid roar of rain and thunder, 
 Arose the plaintive psalm. 
 
 The chapter was read, unhurried, 
 'Mid lightning's lurid glare, 
 And round about that trustful hearth 
 They all knelt down to prayer. 
 
126 AT KYLE RHEA 
 
 The dusky place was lighted, 
 By another awful flash ; 
 And loud above the father's voice, 
 Was heard the thunder's crash. 
 
 Duly the prayer was uttered, 
 While rolled the solemn peal ; 
 Then all uprose but Annie 
 And still did Annie kneel. 
 
 " Sleepest thou, Annie, dear one ? " 
 Is said, with gentle shake : 
 Yes ! Annie sleeps full soundly, 
 Never on earth to wake. 
 
AT KYLE RHEA 127 
 
 By the lowly hearth, so hallowed, 
 Hath swept the Angel's car, 
 That wafted the great Elijah 
 From sorrowing eyes afar. 
 
 Break not thy heart, O mother ! 
 "Tis well with the child of thy love ; 
 She will worship still when you worship, 
 But among the saints above ! 
 
 Printed by R. & R. CLARK, Edinburgh. 
 
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