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 i (V «»!/»« r
 
 
 THE 
 
 SONGS OF SCOTLAND, 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN; 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 
 
 i^isforical antr (Critical, 
 
 AND 
 
 CHARACTERS OF THE LYRIC POETS. 
 
 He sang 
 Old songs, the product of his native hills ; 
 A skilful distribution of sweet sounds. 
 Opening from land to land an easy way 
 By melody and by the charm of verse. 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, 
 
 AUTHOR OF SIR MARMADUKE MAXWELL, TRADITIONAL TALES, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN TAYLOR, 
 
 WATERLOO-rLACE, PALL-MALL. 
 
 1825. 
 
 121406
 
 f1? 
 
 5 fc ly ' 
 
 V. 1 
 
 V 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 0. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO SCOTTISH SONG 
 
 CHARACTERS OF LYRIC POETS. 
 
 Pase 
 
 King James the Fifth 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 167 
 
 Alexander Scott 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 169 
 
 Alexander Montgomery 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 170 
 
 Sir Robert Ayton 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 173 
 
 Francis Semple 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 175 
 
 William Walkinshaw 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 178 
 
 Allan Ramsay 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 179 
 
 Lady Wardlaw 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 185 
 
 William Crawford 
 
 
 
 
 
 187 
 
 William Hamilton 
 
 
 
 
 
 190 
 
 David JIaUet 
 
 
 
 
 
 193 
 
 Lord Binning 
 
 
 
 
 
 197 
 
 James Thomson 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 199 
 
 Tobias SmoUet 
 
 
 
 
 
 201 
 
 Lady Grissel Baillie 
 
 
 
 
 
 206 
 
 Miss Jane Elliot 
 
 
 
 
 
 208 
 
 3Iiss Rutherford 
 
 
 
 
 
 208
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 Page 
 
 Sir Gilbert Elliot .... 
 
 . 212 
 
 Mrs. John Hunter .... 
 
 . 214 
 
 Alexander Ross .... 
 
 . 216 
 
 I\liss Jenny Grahame 
 
 . 217 
 
 Reverend John Skinner 
 
 . 220 
 
 Alexander Skirving 
 
 . 222 
 
 John Lowe ..... 
 
 . 223 
 
 William Julius Mickle 
 
 . 226 
 
 John Logan . . . . < 
 
 . 228 
 
 Robert Burns .... 
 
 . 230 
 
 Robert Tannahill .... 
 
 . 236 
 
 Richard GaU . . . . . 
 
 . 240 
 
 Hector Macneill . . . . . 
 
 . 241 
 
 Reverend William Blorehead 
 
 . 244 
 
 Alexander Wilson .... 
 
 . 247 
 
 Sir Alexander Boswell 
 
 . 248 
 
 SONGS, 
 
 Fair Annie of Lochroyan 
 
 Gude Wallace 
 
 Good ale hauds my heart aboon 
 
 Hughie Graeme 
 
 I'd rather be fast than free 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast 
 
 Jolmie of Breadislee 
 
 I loved thee once 
 
 I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair 
 
 298 
 
 262 
 
 296 
 
 327 
 
 305 
 307 
 314 
 318 
 320 
 
 Lord Randal 
 
 Lord IMaxwell'ti goodnight 
 
 285 
 322
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 vu 
 
 Page 
 
 I^ady Ann 
 
 
 . 339 
 
 3Iarie Hamilton 
 
 
 . 348 
 
 Night is nigh gone 
 
 
 . 274 
 
 Rattling roaring Willie 
 
 
 . 346 
 
 Sir Patrick Spens 
 
 
 . 257 
 
 Song of the maidens 
 
 
 . 281 
 
 The gaberlunyie man 
 
 
 . 267 
 
 The jolly beggar 
 
 
 . 276 
 
 The two ravens 
 
 
 . 289 
 
 Tak yere auld cloak about 
 
 ye . . . 
 
 . 292 
 
 The wee wee man 
 
 • • • • 
 
 . 303 
 
 Todlen hame 
 
 
 . 330 
 
 The wife of Usher's Well 
 
 
 . 332 
 
 The auld goodman 
 
 • • • a 
 
 . 336 
 
 The demon lover 
 
 • • • « 
 
 . 341 
 
 When banners are waving 
 
 
 . 271 
 
 Young Erlinton 
 
 • • • 
 
 . 309
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. 
 
 TO speak in your presence of Scottish song — to hope 
 you will listen while I seek to trace its history, describe 
 its varied character, and, with an honest heart and a 
 liberal mind, examine the productions of the lyrists of our 
 native land, seems something like the man ^vho spoke 
 to the sun concerning the source of light : for who can 
 know so much about lyric lore, or bring so much know- 
 ledge and genius to illustrate it, as yourself? In sup- 
 posing myself seated beside you Avitli free license of 
 speech, I imagine your patience equal at least to my 
 presumption ; for I cannot but know that you have no- 
 thing to learn, nor can I hope to charm you into an 
 auditor by any extraordinary grace of language, or felicity 
 of remark. Something indeed of what I have to say 
 has been learned from yourself: I am unwilling to be 
 thought so careless a reader and so dull a friend, as to 
 come profitless away from your company or your works. 
 It may seem a piece of tyranny unknown in literature, 
 to echo back your own words in your own ear ; but it is 
 for another purpose that I suppose you so near me — 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 your presence will have a favourable influence over a 
 spirit, which, though it comes gladly to an elected work, 
 is conscious of its defects, and will be willing to imagine 
 itself admonished into more than ordinary conciseness 
 and regularity, by the presence of superior genius. This 
 will likewise enable me to escape from the nice formali- 
 ties and subtle distinctions of a regular essay, into the 
 more pleasant labour of a desultory introduction ; where 
 character may be more closely observed than method, 
 where the fixed or the vagrant graces of song will be 
 traced more anxiously than the works through which 
 they have wandered, from their first appearance till now; 
 and where I shall sometimes gladly resign the hopeless 
 task of finding era and author to our ancient lyrics, for 
 the more agreeable labour of illustrating them by cri- 
 ticism and anecdote. I shall endeavour to remember that 
 brevity is a flower that never blooms out of season — 
 that he who wishes to be read, must write to be under- 
 stood; and that, though trusting more for my success to 
 nature than education, I must seek the aid of both in^ 
 a work where information and research are required : 
 what cannot be got by nature's voluntary light, may be 
 found by the lantern of learning. 
 
 When literature slackened in its homage to men of 
 riches and rank, painting and sculpture came and re- 
 flected back to titled pride and opulent vanity their own 
 image, with such minuteness and felicity of resemblance, 
 as rendered all opposition from the pen hoj)eless and 
 vain. As dedications are therefore uncommon or un- 
 known, it may be expected that I should assign some
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 3 
 
 reason for departing from the ordinary course of authors : 
 it is from no wish to seem singular, nor from any desire 
 to revive those acts of sometimes blamable and always 
 involuntary homage, with which some of the greatest of 
 men souglit to propitiate some of the meanest. Had 
 you owed your greatness to birth or to favour alone, I 
 should have regarded you in silence as one of those gilded 
 images which fortune sets up for worship on her high 
 places : but your fame comes from a nobler source — from 
 that influence which much wiser men than I am have not 
 scru})led to call divine ; from that art unteachable, un- 
 taught, which can neither be created nor propagated. 
 My admiration is therefore voluntary — a natural impulse 
 which I wish not to conceal, which I might not if I 
 would ; which pride feels no wound to own, nor inde- 
 pendence less erectness in acknowledging. I shall now 
 proceed with the subject, — though it seems no great 
 symptom of wandering, to speak of a poet in an intro- 
 duction to song. 
 
 I am inclined to claim for the very oldest of our Scot- 
 tish songs, a moderate antiquity and a humble origin. 
 The greatest lover of Scotland, will be unable to find the 
 wild flowers of her lyric verse floating farther up the 
 stream of her history than the reign of Robert Bruce : 
 and the fondest admirer of her song cannot point to a 
 surer source for its purest and most lasting strains, than 
 to our herdsmen and warriors. Those who wish to find 
 its origin among the wild and shadowy traditions of the 
 original people of the land, ought to tell us why the 
 
 b2
 
 4 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 lyric muse has confined her melting and heroic breathings 
 to a long, narrow, and sometimes barren strip of border 
 country ; and those who imagine we have received the 
 impulse from the south, should show us some of those 
 coeval traditionary strains which inspired our ancestors. 
 I am telling the story for England as well as for ourselves, 
 when I say, that almost all our romantic or martial bal- 
 lads, and almost all our songs which bear the peculiar 
 stamp of remoter times, and claim distinction from the 
 tales they tell, or the names they celebrate, find a local 
 habitation nigh the border. Nothing can be more re- 
 markable than the similarity in character and feeling of 
 the strains, whether of peace or war, or love or sorrow, 
 which were breathed of old from either bank of the 
 Tweed ; and nothing can be more certain than that this 
 resemblance has long since ceased, and that England has 
 changed the natural tone and peculiar character of her 
 song. That she has changed for the better I am not so 
 sure, — let me weigh the merits of Scottish and English 
 song with a careful and impartial hand. 
 
 When Cowley speaks of " dancing words and speak- 
 ing strings," he expresses with much happiness the feli- 
 citous union of poetry and music. The natural unstudied 
 grace of thought, the lucky ease and unsought beauty of 
 language which make lyric verse move and breathe, and 
 without which it is unworthy of the society of Music, its 
 less divine but no less graceful sister, seem common to 
 both countries. Here the resemblance ceases — a Scottish 
 song is a story, an English song is a sentiment; the former 
 seems more akin to truth and warmth, the latter to court-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 5 
 
 Hness and delicacy. The Scotsman mingles the name 
 of his mistress with his strain ; and lavishes loveliness 
 and beauty upon her, and assembles around her all that 
 is fair or fragrant in the evening landscape : the En- 
 glishman conceals his mistress in a foreign mask ; and 
 pours his fancy more than his heart around a natural 
 sentiment or a neat conceit, adorning it with all the 
 elegance and melody of a rich and varied language. The 
 former sings openly of his affection, and describes his 
 hopes and fears with all the candour of youthful enthu- 
 siasm : the latter has no wish to make the wide world 
 his confidante ; he is discreet in his most rapturous mo- 
 ments, and understands from experience all the mystery 
 of love-making;. The former thinks of nothina; but his 
 iove, and seems proud to let the world know how much 
 he admires her, and how passing fair she is for whom he 
 is pouring out his whole heart : the latter neither trusts 
 us with his true love's name, nor with a portrait of her 
 person, nor is he in any haste to discover in what land 
 she liveSj or whether she be lofty or low. The former 
 goes out to woo in a pastoral land, and inanimate nature 
 comes in for its share of rapture ; he tells us of the stars 
 which shine above them, and the names of the flowers 
 over which they walk ; — the sweetness of the hawthorn 
 under which tliey sit is not forgotten, and the stream at 
 their feet has a name, or acquires one from that moment : 
 the latter indulges in no such pastoral imaginings, he 
 sits under a painted ceiling and a gilded chandelier, and 
 makes love 
 
 When the wine cup shines in light.
 
 6 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 The lyric muse of the north is the muse of simple nature : 
 she loves to expatiate by hill and dale, with her locks 
 flowing on her shoulders, her garments lifted above the 
 grass " till half a leg is scrimply seen," and with a look 
 like the Peggy of Allan Ramsay wlien she went to gather 
 dew. Her more courtly sister of the south loves the 
 lighted hall and the illuminated city: she goes rustling 
 in silks, with paste gems and diamonds in her hair, is a 
 complete pattern of external grace and decorum of be- 
 haviour — 
 
 And prudence is her o'erword aye ; 
 She talks of rank and fashion. 
 
 If I have to accuse the latter of reserve, and with breath- 
 ing out her love as coldly as the icy words of some of 
 the old lecturing IMoralities, I am afraid I shall not be 
 able to excuse the former of occasional trespasses against 
 outward decorum, and with going higher kilted at times 
 than even the tolerant may think discreet. But perhaps 
 this very freedom arises from the dramatic form in which 
 our northern songs, like all early national poetry, are 
 conceived. In their lively presentation of person and 
 incident, and time and place, they resemble a dramatic 
 scene; and as many of them contain pictures of common 
 life, there has been less desire to extract the poetry 
 alone, than to stamp freshly off the whole scene, and 
 reflect back a true image of nature. A total want of 
 dramatic incident and character, and a desire to address 
 the mind alone, has secured to English song the welcome 
 absence of familiar coarseness and rude interchange of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 7 
 
 speech, which augment, at the same time, the life and the 
 indelicacy of some of our early songs. This desire to 
 limit itself to a single sentiment, and intertwine all the 
 grace of verse round a smart saying or a happy conceit, 
 led an English critic to imagine that whatever went far- 
 ther than this ceased to be song. This seems the de- 
 finition of one who had a better acquaintance with the 
 latter than the elder lyrics of England ; but I cannot 
 consent to withhold from the popular poetry of the Gothic 
 nations, the very name, both oral and Avritten, by which 
 it was admired and descended to posterity. I am wilUng 
 to be no wiser than our ancestors, who refused not the 
 name of song to much that could be sung ; and were 
 pleased to include many long ballads and portions of 
 romance in the poetry to which voice and instrument 
 added their charms. The very nature of love, its joys, 
 its sorrows, and its fears, must induce it to overflow 
 those pedantic limits into which the critic's wand wishes 
 to conjure it. The heart desires to disclose something 
 more than the solitary sentiment enjoined by the critic. 
 The passion of love, like the muse of Burns, rages like an 
 imprisoned fiend till it pours out itself in song ; and all 
 the liveliest revelations of the heart, bear the name and 
 form, and breathe of the beauty which inspired them. 
 
 To seek, with the hope of finding, a certain era for the 
 origin of Scottish song, would be like the boy who chased 
 the rainbow: — when he reached the knoU on which its 
 glittering extremity seemed to rest, he saw it shining on 
 a distant hill ; and when he succeeded in gaining the 
 summit, he saw the beautiful vision vanishing in the
 
 8 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ocean. We see before us a large mass of lyrics, such 
 as perhaps no nation can surpass, either in number or 
 beauty: we look a hundred years back, and the number is 
 sensibly diminished, and many of the brightest are gone : 
 we pass onward a hundred years more, and we see many 
 of our present favourites in a ruder dress, and hear the 
 muse breathe a rougher and less melodious strain ; an- 
 other century, and there are frequent lapses and chasms 
 in traditionary verse, and the voice of the muse is more 
 rude and martial ; another century and her musings are 
 scattered in fragments over the land like the ravings of 
 the sibyl ; and, finally, her voice has ceased, and history 
 is content to quote a verse and speak of the influence of 
 her song. The skill of learning, the labour of industry, 
 and the utmost application which genius can make to the 
 pages of the chronicler and the historian, can only end 
 in the conviction, that song of a domestic and a martial 
 kind has been long natural to Scotland ; but truth must 
 call in the aid of conjecture, and conjecture must seek 
 the assistance of national vanity, before we can satisfy 
 ourselves that we possess, without a very strong infusion 
 of recent poetry, change of language, and alteration of 
 thought, any one of the perfect original strains which 
 gratified our ancestors. Credulity may believe that the 
 songs which cheered our rude and martial forefathers, 
 breathed the same varied strain, and contained the seeds 
 from which our innumerable songs have sprung ; and 
 fancy may imagine how much or how little of the ancient 
 spirit of poetry influences the court, the camp, and cottage 
 now, which was abroad of old, and sang, like Dante or Gary,
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 9 
 
 Of ladies and of knights, the toils and ease 
 That witched us into love and courtesy. 
 
 It is an ungrateful labour to dispel agreeable delu- 
 sions ; and the fictions which soothe national pride, or 
 please family vanity, are those to which we most fondly 
 cling. But when truth strips the romance from history, 
 and seeks the proofs by which we lay claim to lyrical 
 antiquity, we find nothing left of all those primitive 
 strains, which gave a Scottish tongue to our national 
 melodies, but a few rude lines and a few questionable 
 fragments. It is easy indeed to say, that everywhere we 
 see traces of the national muse of earlier days, — that 
 we discover over all the border lowlands her footsteps 
 more than half defaced, and hear her well-known voice 
 dying away like the last murmur of a distant melody. 
 But truth is not allowed to make her escape in general 
 expressions : what history has preserved, or veritable tra- 
 dition handed down, I shall gladly notice; and I may 
 lament, with the poet of old, the ravages of time and the 
 imperfections of oral remembrance, and that, unless we 
 are aided by revelation, we know little more than nothing. 
 
 The period when the Scottish language began to be 
 heard above the barbarous discordance of the conquering 
 and the conquered, cannot be accurately known ; and it 
 is equally vain to seek to be informed, at what time it 
 flowed in a stream pure and plentiful enough for the 
 uses of the muse. There must have been a large interval 
 of years, while the Celtic language was step by step re- 
 tiring to the northern liiDs, and the present language was
 
 10 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 secretly moulding itself on the Saxon, the Danish, and the 
 Norman, in which our poetry appeared of many colours, 
 and caught a strip and a star from every fresh infusion 
 from the west or the south. That our earliest poets spoke 
 a kind of Babylonish dialect, fit to confound the united 
 wisdom of many colleges, I am not prepared to say ; but 
 it is much easier to prove that the peculiar poetry of 
 the various tribes or nations who turned England and 
 Scotland into a prize-fighter's stage, gave a tino-e or 
 an impulse, which is yet Aasible in the popular poetry 
 of the land. If we can indulge in the pleasing belief 
 that Fingal lived and that Ossian sang ; and if we are 
 to judge of the aspirations of the Celtic muse by the 
 wild, and pathetic, and chivalrous strains which were so 
 long and so wondrously preserved for JMacpherson to 
 find, we may conclude that the lowland muse OAves less 
 to her Celtic sister than to the wild legends of the Nor- 
 wegians and Danes. The Scottish and the Scandi- 
 navian ballads or songs have a close and a vivid resem- 
 blance : the same spirit seems to have conceived, and 
 the same spirit executed them. They abound in the 
 same wild and singular superstitions ; the same thirst for 
 the marvellous by sea, and the incredible by land. They 
 present an image of a rude, a martial, and original 
 people : might is their source of right ; personal beauty 
 and personal bravery are their only visible perfections ; 
 their ships are their homes, the field of battle their 
 delight,- plunder their reward; and the chief judge 
 and arbitrator in all dubious matters is the sword. 
 Blood flows, through their romantic as well as their
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 11 
 
 martial strains; and if they draw images of female 
 loveliness and beauty, it is but to throw them into the 
 arms of the savage hero of the tale, or upon the sword point 
 of some fiercer rival. But steeped as they are in super- 
 stition and in blood, they have many redeeming graces 
 of graphic power, rude chivalry and fervent pathos. 
 They exhibit that sharp and fresh presentment of inci- 
 dent and scene, which Avill ever be found in the songs of 
 those who seek to see nature for themselves. They have 
 the fire-edge of first thought strong upon them, Avith 
 that minuteness and particularity, which make fiction 
 speak with the tongue of truth. 
 
 In much of this energy of character the Celtic poetry 
 shares ; but its manners are more refined, its sentiments 
 more generous, its superstitions more sublime, and its 
 chivalry rivals the brightest era of European knighthood. 
 I speak of the character of the epic songs of Ossian, 
 which, hidden like a miraculous relic for more than a 
 thousand years, came forth to support the expiring tra- 
 ditions of the land, and to revive the fame of the ancient 
 heroes, who \^^ere about to retire for ever, nameless and 
 unsung, to their wreaths of mountain mist, to drive their 
 visionary cars and pursue the shadowy deer. The other 
 remains of Celtic song, which I have examined, seem to 
 describe a ruder and less gifted people ; they delight 
 in catalogues of barbarous names — in clusters of sonorous 
 epithets and interminable traditions. They seem barren 
 in generosity of sentiment ; their story is some nameless 
 feud ; and their imagery is limited to the heathy desert 
 and the misty waste. The summons to tlie foray, the
 
 12 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 call to battle, and the rushing to the charge, are favourite 
 themes. The Celtic bards are unequalled in their stirring 
 calls to arms, and for 
 
 Chanting rhymes of deadly feud. 
 
 But I am far from sure that they have influenced the 
 border poets in their choice of subjects, or in the manner 
 in which they have treated them. 
 
 By examining the expression and spirit of our early 
 national poetry, written and oral, by perusing the ancient 
 historians and writers of England and the Scottish low- 
 lands, and by weighing, as well as a limited balance will 
 allow, the popular language of the two countries, I may 
 safely conclude, that they are peopled by one race, who 
 spoke of old the same language, who were sprung from 
 the same ancestry, and Avere divided in nothing save 
 the desire of dominion. When the Saxon language was 
 inoculated with the Danish, and coloured Avith the Nor- 
 man, it found time to subside into something fixed and 
 settled, and its voice was gradually heard over the island 
 as far, and perhaps farther, than the banks of the Forth. 
 To a Scotsman the ancient literature of England is 
 quite accessible, and comes closer to his mother-tongue 
 than the more pure and more polished, but not more 
 forcible, literary language of the present day. Many of 
 the words of WicklifFe and Chaucer, and even of Shake- 
 speare, have ceased to be living English, and are still 
 living Scotch ; and I cannot help imagining that the lan- 
 guage of the land miglit recover some of its lost strength, 
 by calling into life and popularity many of its neglected
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS, 13 
 
 words. The whole of the populous county of York 
 speaks a language which I am willing to call Scottish, 
 since I understand it through means of my native tongue ; 
 and various other northern counties give a very lively 
 image in their speech of the days of Chaucer and Barbour. 
 A poet and critic has acknowledged, that Barbour adorned 
 the English language by a strain of versification, ex- 
 pression^ and imagery, far superior to his age; and I 
 may say of Wintoun, who Avrote at a later period, that 
 his language is more rude and his orthography more im- 
 pure, inasmuch as his genius was inferior. When we 
 come to the days of Gawin Douglas and Dunbar, we 
 are so sensible of the difference between the language 
 which they Avrite, and that of the poets of England who 
 immediately follow them, that we are almost tempted to 
 imagine that the northern tongue, instead of advancing 
 in correctness and purity, had relapsed into obsolete 
 ruggedness and uncouth barbarism. I have no wish to 
 refuse my admiration to the works of these two exquisite 
 poets ; they can afford to be accused of an affectation of 
 uncommon words, of a wish to embellish what Sir David 
 Lyndsay calls the " maternal tongue" with " aureate 
 termis." But they have refused to speak the popular 
 language of their country ; and by studding their verses 
 with learned words, have become more inaccessible to a 
 common reader than the pages of Barbour, who Avrote so 
 long before them. 
 
 But while the more courtly and more learned poets 
 were sacrificing the sense of genius to show the vanity 
 of learning, the oral lyric poetry of Scotland had in-
 
 14 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 sensibly become popular, and its authors seem to have 
 indulged no higher wish than to express what tliey felt, 
 and describe what they saw, in the common work-day- 
 world language of their native country. But if the rustic 
 authors were unacquainted with the unfortunate art of 
 embellishing their strains, it must be confessed that they 
 were content with very homely words, paid little regard 
 to regularity of rhyme, and satisfied themselves with 
 very rugged numbers. Though it is said by some learned 
 persons that the first language of man is poetry, lam afraid 
 to claun for our ancestors the name of poets in their first 
 recorded attempts at verse. Wintoun indeed has quoted 
 a portion of a lyric poem, which is very sweet and flow- 
 ing ; and as it is written on the unhappy Avars which 
 followed the death of Alexander the Third, it has been 
 pronounced as old as the days of John Baliol. But to 
 me it has a much more modern sound. It is too melo- 
 dious and too alliterative for that period, and seems to 
 be of the same age as the rhyming chronicler himself. 
 It glides as smoothly along as the numbers of the pre- 
 sent day: — 
 
 When Alexander our king was dead. 
 
 That Scotland led in love and le. 
 Away wes sons of ale and bread. 
 
 Of wine and wax, of game and glee ; 
 Our gold was changed into lead : 
 
 Christ, born into virginitie. 
 Succour Scotland, and remede 
 
 That stad in this perplexitie.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 15 
 
 I know that Leyden, no mean autliority, quotes and 
 embellishes it as a relic of the age to which the Prior 
 of Lochleven ascribes it, and that Ritson, the most sus- 
 picious of critics, and the most scrupulous of antiquaries, 
 regards the verse as genuine. But Leyden perhaps spoke 
 hastily, and at least spoke young, and as he was not in 
 pursuit of truth, might sec nothing meritorious in seek- 
 ing a less ambitious antiquity for the verse ; and with 
 regard to Ritson, experience has taught me to abate my 
 confidence in even the most considerate judgment of a 
 mere antiquary. 
 
 But we have a fragment of a national song on which 
 suspicion has not fastened ; and of an age^, too, which 
 lessens regret for the dubious authenticity of the other. 
 I overjiass, and overpass willingly, some very rude rhymes 
 on the siege of Berwick in 1296 : the minstrel scoff was 
 repaid by the English with rhymes equally barbarous ; 
 and as if the reply of the rhymer had not been sufficiently 
 keen, the sword of Edward followed, far sharper than the 
 severest satire. I also overpass the song of Sir Patrick 
 Spence, the earliest of our lyrics, which sought to unite 
 sentiment with external nature and domestic or historic 
 circumstance ; and I pass it only, because I am unwilling, 
 from internal evidence and traditional testimony alone, 
 to place it at the head of Scottish song. Nor shall 
 I dwell on the Gude Wallace, a rough and vigorous 
 lyric, bearing in various places the sharp stamp of great 
 antiquity, and in others the softer and more sentimental 
 infusion of a later age. The latter is one of those 
 songs which has floated down the stream of oral memory
 
 16 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 for centuries ; and perhaps was popular in an era, which 
 we have Fordun's authority for saying, possessed several 
 songs in honour of Sir William Wallace. But I gladly 
 go from conjecture to certainty. 
 
 After the battle of Bannockburn, says Fabyan, " The 
 Scottes, inflamed with pride and derision of the English, 
 made this rhyme as folloAveth — 
 
 Maydens of Englande, 
 
 Sore may ye morne. 
 
 For your lemmans, ye 
 
 Haue lost at Bannockysburne. 
 With heue-a-lowe. 
 What weneth the king of Eng-land 
 So soon to have won Scotland } 
 Wyth rumbylowe. 
 
 " Thys song," he adds, " was after many days sung 
 in dances in the carols of the maidens and mynstrelles 
 of Scotland, to the reproofe and disdain of Englishmen : 
 M'ith diners others which I overpasse." The testimony 
 of the old historian is supported by Caxton's Chronicle, 
 which gives us some farther information respecting this 
 very curious relic : — " Wherefore the Scottes said, in 
 reproof and despite of King Edward, for as moche as he 
 loved to be gone by water, and also for he was discom- 
 fited at Bannokesborne ; therefore maydens made a song 
 thereof in that country of King Edward of England, 
 and in this manner they songe — " The quotation of 
 Caxton extends no farther than that of Fabyan, and 
 seems much more corrupt. But it enables us to judge
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 17 
 
 of the mixed nature of the song. It seems something of 
 a lyrical condolence, as well as a song in " disdain and 
 reproof" of English pride. It sympathizes with the 
 maidens who had lost their lovers; and compares the 
 magnificence of Edward's march to Bannockburn with 
 the shame of his flight and his escape in a fishing-boat. 
 This very early and not inelegant strain is more sweet 
 and flowing than the popular English verses of the same 
 period; it commences in the gentle spirit of our best 
 lyrics, and strikes with truth and modesty the true tone 
 of our best and most moving songs. I should have con- 
 sidered it as a song rather of sorrow than of scorn, had 
 not Caxton supplied the satiric allusion to Edward's 
 flight, and had I not discovered that the burthen was 
 also satirical. In the romance of Richard Coeur de Lion, 
 as the English fleet sailed towards the coast of Syria, the 
 minstrel sings, that the king saw a large Saracen shiji of 
 war, and, arming himself for the fight, urged on his 
 rowers with characteristic impatience : — 
 
 Roweth on fast ! who that is faint. 
 In evil water may he be dreynt ! 
 They rowed hard, and sung thereto. 
 With hevelow and rumbeloo. 
 
 The Scottish poets of the days of Bruce knew how to 
 make a singular line, from a popular English romance, 
 sharpen the satire of a lyric, which was once so well known 
 as to be quoted by three historians. I know not whether 
 it is to the English romance or the Scottish song that 
 King James alludes in his Peblis to the Play. 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Hope, Calye, and Cardronow, 
 
 Gathered out thick-fold. 
 With heigh, and how, rumbelow. 
 
 The young folks were full bold : 
 The bagjDipe blew, and they outthrew. 
 
 Out of the towns untold ; 
 Lord! such a shout was them among. 
 
 When they were o'er the wold ! 
 
 As this is the first genuine fragment of what is now 
 widely known by the name of Scottish song, so is it 
 the last that for a long space of time finds a place in 
 history. With the exception of a few fragments of a 
 satiric rather than a pathetic kind, and many names of 
 lyrics once common and popular, we have nothing of all 
 the strains which amused or moved our ancestors till 
 printing came to the aid of the muse, and men, from 
 vanity or curiosity, began to collect her labours. The 
 early flowers of our song are soon collected from the 
 wide field of history ; they are few, and when they are 
 together, the garland seems hardly worthy of gathering. 
 The next that comes has something of the sharpness of 
 the national emblem — an epigram rather than a song; 
 but so pointed and keen, that in those days of fierce 
 chivalry, it may have caused the breaking of many a 
 lance. When David, the son of Robert Bruce, married 
 Jane, the sister of King Edward, in 1328, the Scots in 
 scorn called her Jane Make-peace, and ^v^ote various 
 Trufies, Roundes, and Songs, in derision of the al- 
 liance, and of the costly and gaudy dresses of the En-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 19 
 
 glish knights. We owe the foUowing satiric verse to the 
 kindness of Fabyan; and from Caxton we learn, that it 
 was fixed on the doors of the Cathedral Church at York 
 by the Scottish ambassadors, during the residence of the 
 court in the north. It sounds like a part of a song : — 
 
 Long beardis hartles, 
 Paynted hoodes \\'y'tles. 
 Gay cottes graceless, 
 Maketh England thrj-^fteless. 
 
 The poetic and satiric spirit of the north is further 
 illustrated by the curious story which Bower relates of 
 Sir William Dalyell ; and \vhich is told with such live- 
 liness in the notes to Marmion, as makes me afraid to 
 attempt an abridgment. It seems that in 1390, the 
 Scottish knight, whom the historian praises for his wisdom 
 and his lively wit, was on a mission to the English court, 
 where he saw Sir Piers Courtenay parading about the 
 palace, wearing a rich mantle, bearing for device an em- 
 broidered falcon, ^vith this rhyme — 
 
 I bear a falcon fairest of flight ; 
 Whoso pinches at her, his death is dight 
 
 In graith. 
 
 Sir William appeared next day in a rich mantle, simi- 
 lar to that of Courtenay, bearing a magpie instead of a 
 falcon, with a motto which parodied the vaunting in- 
 scription of the Englishman. 
 
 I bear a pie, picking at a piece ; 
 Whoso picks at her, I shall pick at liis nese. 
 
 In faith. 
 c2
 
 20 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Sir Piers, who was vain of a very handsome person 
 and renowned for his skill in tilting, challenged Sir 
 William to a just with sharp lances. They ran three 
 courses, and in the third, the handsome Englishman 
 lost two of his front teeth : he complained that Dalyell 
 left his helmet unlaced, which gave way at the touch 
 of his spear, and enabled him to shun the shock of the 
 encounter. The Scot agreed to run six courses more, 
 liable to the forfeit of two hundred pounds, if, on en- 
 tering the lists, any unequal advantage should be detected 
 on either side. When they were on the point of closing, 
 Dalyell demanded, with a smile, that Courtenay should 
 consent to the extinction of one of his eyes, as he him- 
 self had lost one in the field of Otterburne. The other 
 demurred to the equalization of optical powers, and the 
 king commanded that Dalyell should receive the forfeit, 
 saying he excelled the English both in wit and valour. 
 It is not every old historian who illustrates the age of 
 which he Avrites with a story of rich humour and sar- 
 castic rhyme. 
 
 For the sake of keeping together these satiric verses, 
 I have omitted to mention the remains of a song quoted 
 by Godscroft, on the murder of the lord of Liddesdale 
 in 1353. I know not that by delaying it I have offered 
 any violence to precedence of composition ; for I confess 
 the lines have no very antique sound, and certainly 
 enjoyed the benefit of oral transmission for some time 
 before they reached the ear of the historian of the house 
 of Douglas. 
 
 " The lord of Liddesdale being at his pastime, hunting
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 21 
 
 in Ettricke Forest, is beset by William Earl of Douglas, 
 and assailed, wounded, and slain beside Galsewood ; 
 upon a jealousy that the earl had conceived of him with 
 his lady, as the report goeth; for so says the old song — 
 
 The countesse of Douglas out of her boure she came. 
 
 And loudly there that she did call. 
 It is for the lord of Liddesdale 
 
 That I let all these tears doAvnfall. 
 
 "The song also declareth how she did write her love- 
 letters to Liddesdale, to dissuade him from that hunting. 
 It tells likewise the manner of the taking of his men, 
 and his own killing at Galsewood; and how he was 
 carried the first night to Lindin Kirk, a mile from Sel- 
 kirk, and was buried within the abbacie of Melrose." 
 To express joy, or scorn, or sorrow, on any remarkable 
 occurrence, was the custom of the ancient muse ; her 
 subjects were real, or believed : fiction was not become a 
 profession, she had 
 
 No idly feigned poetic pains, 
 
 she dealt only in national or domestic history. It was 
 not likely, therefore, that the fall of a favourite and suc- 
 cessful hero would escape such notice ; but there is no 
 better authority than this oral song for charging Earl 
 Douglas with jealousy, and his lady with light behaviour. 
 History imputes the murder of the Flower of Chivalry 
 to other causes ; and it must be confessed, that though 
 he deserved not to be murdered, he hardly merited to 
 live. I am therefore of opinion, that the song was
 
 22 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 written by some minstrel, so long after the event it cele- 
 brates, that length of time sanctioned the iiction. Such 
 expressions as Godscroft, on the authority of the song, im- 
 putes to the countess, were common among ladies in the 
 times of chivalry, and implied admiration rather than 
 criminal affection. The queen of France ^vrote with her 
 own hand a love-letter to our James the Fourth, calling 
 him her love ; and desiring him to raise an army, and 
 step tlu-ee steps on English ground, and strike three 
 strokes with a sword, for her sake. We all know how 
 readily he obeyed ; and the price which he paid, dear as 
 it was, would have been more willingly given, could he 
 have foreseen on Flodden Field the heroic poem which 
 his fate lias inspired. But no one accuses the queen of 
 France of an attachment to James, and no one imagines 
 that James regarded her more tenderly than any other 
 lady. Her letter was the common language of the times 
 — the words of politic beauty in the ear of chivalrous 
 vanity. Nor was the kiss A\'hich the Princess Blargaret 
 of Scotland bestowed on Alain Chartier, while asleep in 
 the palace gallery, regarded by her ladies of honour as 
 very improper, or indecorous : a kiss which Menage says 
 wiU immortalize her. It was a salute according to the 
 precepts, or, at least, the spirit, of chivalry; and the excuse 
 of the princess was in the same strain, — she did not kiss 
 the man, but the mouth which had uttered so many fine 
 sayings. . 
 
 Were I to suppose this curious fragment to be the 
 earliest specimen we have of the language and spirit of 
 chivalry employed in song, it might be imagined that I
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 93 
 
 am ignorant of the romantic song of True Thomas, in 
 which chivalry seems in the dawn ; and the historical ro- 
 mance of Barbour, a poem of which Scotland may be 
 justly proud. The first is a wild fiction, created more 
 for the sake of embalming a popular superstition than 
 for indulging in prophecy; and it unites the common 
 belief of the people with all the magnificence of an 
 Arabian tale. The second is the adventures of the great 
 Robert Bruce and liis illustrious companions, where 
 poetry is called in to adorn truth, and render accurate 
 and unimpeachable history more lively and agreeable. 
 Nothing can surpass the ease and readiness with which 
 the poet pours the stream of a fine imagination and a 
 tender heart round the varied fortunes of his heroes, 
 and seizes on all the poetical features and incidents 
 which animate narration and elevate story. Fancy here is 
 the servant, not the master, of fact ; and imagination is 
 made the vassal of a sober and deliberate judgment. Yet, 
 scorning to use what king James calls the " flowered 
 pen," he is more romantic than romance ; and has 
 breathed a heroism and tenderness through a period of 
 peril and blood, which has communicated itself to the 
 rudest strains of our minstrelsy. He has stamped in 
 poetry the chiralrous deeds, and manners, and feelings 
 of the Scottish people ; and given a living spirit of na- 
 tionality, to what he, with unexpected modesty, calls a ro- 
 mance. He is the Froissart of our country; with equal 
 spirit and graphic power, but with a kinder and ten- 
 derer heart. I wish I could have discovered in his nar- 
 ratives more frequent traces of our ancient national songs ;
 
 24 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 but the Scottish historians have been exceedingly penu- 
 rious in such quotation, and we owe more to honest 
 Fabyan than to all the chroniclers of the north. Bar- 
 bour indeed forbears to relate the defeat of Sir Andrew 
 Harcla, by Sir John de Soulis, the Scottish governor of 
 Eskdale, inasmuch as it was so fully rehearsed in a 
 popular song that it required no comment : 
 
 Young women, when they will play. 
 Sing it among them ilka day. 
 
 This is an authentic reference to a very early song ; 
 for John de Soulis, knight of Torthorwald in Dumfries- 
 shire, governor of Eskdale, and grandson of Nicholas 
 de Soulis, the competitor with Bruce for the crown, was 
 slain, along with Edward Bruce and many gallant war- 
 riors, at the battle of Fagher in Ireland, in 1318. 
 
 I have been mixing romance with history, ancient 
 times with latter; and introducing a princess of Scot- 
 land before I introduced her more illustrious father, 
 James the First. To this accomplished prince, the author 
 of our first serious and purely imaginative poem, the 
 King's Quair, and our earliest truly comic and hu- 
 morous and homely poem, Peblis to the Play, Major 
 assigns the reputation of composing many excellent 
 Scottish songs, which were popular while the hi- 
 storian wrote ; and Tassoni ascribes to him the compo- 
 sition of many sacred pieces of vocal music, and also the 
 invention of a new kind of music, plaintive and melan- 
 choly, and different from all others. No one has con- 
 tested the king's poetical honours; but the assertion of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 25 
 
 the Italian lias stirred up all the fiddlers and pipers of 
 the north and south — all alike anxious to defend the 
 antiquity of the several sorts of composition, and afraid to 
 impute the invention of a new kind of melody to a mere 
 mortal. They seem unwilling to believe that the strains 
 which their instruments emit originate in a meaner place 
 than above; and turn in disdain from the claim of King 
 James, to ascend among the mists of antiquity, in 
 search of the fountain from which the national music 
 has flowed. Without consulting the Druid under his 
 oak, — or seeking melody from a painted Pict or a naked 
 Caledonian, — or inquiring from tradition what tune 
 Wallace played when he visited the English host, dis- 
 guised as a harper, — or pausing to consider the nature of 
 the sound which the Scottish horns made when Lord 
 Douglas wasted the north of England, which Froissart 
 declares was as infamous as if all the devils in hell had 
 been there, — let me state my own feelings in a matter of 
 mere belief; for who can hope that history, having left 
 song unnoticed, would condescend to chronicle sound ? 
 
 If our Scottish song has preserved its ancient charac- 
 ter, — and it has, else the fragments which have descended 
 to us have deceived me, — I think there can be little 
 doubt that our music and poetry were coeval, or twin- 
 born. It is evident from the gliding ease and peculiar 
 structure of the verse, that our early songs, written as 
 well as oral, have been composed to be sung ; for no man 
 will readily compose a successful song, without accom- 
 panying the act of composition with a kind of subdued 
 or audible chant, in the spirit of the air to which he
 
 26 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 wishes it to be sung. He who would conceive song must 
 be under the influence of some kind of harmony; and 
 though he may not be able to sing, he must have that in- 
 ternal sense of melody which will make his words flow 
 in unison with music. There is much narrative as well 
 as lyric poetry composed imder the impulse of music ; 
 in many passages of Marmion, and the Lady of the 
 Lake, I can hardly resist breaking out into an involun- 
 tary chant as I peruse them. If I am told that the 
 author has not the art or the power of giving audible 
 utterance to song, my answer is^ that he is inaudibly 
 melodious, and fully possessed with the spirit of music : 
 else how would his poetry rouse and animate me into 
 singing ? But there is a farther proof of the early alli- 
 ance of poetry and music, which I hope others have felt 
 as well as myself, else it almost looks too strange to 
 obtain credit. When I was a boy, and committed to 
 memory many of our ancient as well as modern songs, 
 I never learned one of them without making myself 
 master of some kind of melody which re-echoed the 
 words ; and, curious to say, most of those airs which the 
 words suggested corresponded, I afterwards found, in a 
 great measure Avith the proper tune! The nature of 
 the song and the distribution of its emphatic words 
 suggested the general character and spirit of the air. I 
 am inclined to consider many of our melodies exceedingly 
 old; and that the melodies, which Tassoni attributes 
 to the genius of King James, were only new creations 
 in the feeling and character of what was already popular. 
 I gladly return to the poetry of James : but we can-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 27 
 
 not expect to find in an allegorical poem, written in 
 prison at the age of nineteen, any lively sketches of 
 manners, or paintings of an historical or domestic kind — 
 for which he seems to have been eminently gifted. Nor 
 can I observe any allusion to the lyrics of his native land. 
 But though song is not directly noticed, he has given 
 some of the sweetest examples of musical versiiication, 
 and such vivid sketches of silent nature, as were un- 
 equalled in poetry, whether Scottish or English, at the 
 period he wrote. We see every where traces of his 
 fondness for melody, and the influence which beauty, 
 the song of birds, and the budding trees, had upon his 
 heart and his fancy. We feel a wish to join in what 
 Gray so beautifuUy calls 
 
 The untaught harmony of spring, 
 
 when the royal poet gives his birds human utterance : 
 
 Come sing with us. Away, winter away ! 
 Come, summer, come, the sweet season and sun. 
 
 His poetry has never been praised so highly as it deserves. 
 It has a modesty and delicacy unkno^vn among the elder 
 worthies of English verse. The loss of his lyrics, if 
 they were conceived with equal spirit, and executed 
 with equal happiness of language and sense of nature 
 and melody, is a loss which we may well deplore. In 
 his Peblis to the Play, a poem full of rustic festivity and 
 mirth and broil, we have his peasants quoting songs, 
 dancing to the sound of the bagpipe, and Will Swan, 
 the miller, desiring to perform what he calls the
 
 28 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Schamon's Dance, for tlie amusement of the multitude. 
 This was probably a kind of hornpipe accompanied by 
 action and song, and performed in character. The early 
 and unhappy death of James was a loss which his country 
 long deplored, and avenged mth such singular ferocity, 
 as made the author of the Muses' Threnodie exclaim, 
 
 A cruel crime, rewarded cruellie. 
 
 I come now to a part of my subject over which I 
 would gladly pass, — which has employed the rich Gothic 
 genius of Percy, and the dry barren criticism of Ritson, — 
 on which the Welsh have doted and the Irish dreamed, — 
 the history of our Minstrels and Bards. But I come to 
 it as one who comes to a deep and a broad stream, over 
 which there is no bridge, on which there is no boat, 
 where there is no ford visible, through which he cannot 
 wade, and dare not try to SAvim, yet over which he must 
 pass before he can be in safety or in shelter. I must 
 throw myself into the flood, and trust to fortune. An 
 introduction to song would be incomplete •without some 
 notice of a race or order of men, frequently mentioned in 
 history and tradition, who experienced the favour of 
 kings, and tasted the severity of our laws ; and whose 
 genius and labours are supposed with truth to have 
 materially influenced the character and augmented the 
 fame and number of our lyrics. In seeking to separate 
 conjecture from truth, and to distinguish between the 
 dreams of national vanity and the more sober and ra- 
 tional conclusions of men whose fancy was kept in awe 
 by the interposition of good sense and honest judgment.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 29 
 
 I have no wish to strip from the minstrel the robes of 
 Percy, and cover him with the rags of Ritson. To sliow 
 him seated with kings, invested with collars of gold and 
 singing the deeds of heroes, and then to divest him of 
 his dignity, and class him with the idle and the base, 
 brand him as a disturber of peace, and put him down as 
 a fugitive and vagabond, is to draw no fictitious portrait : 
 it is the common story of many communities and indi- 
 viduals, who abused the favour, and experienced the 
 caprice, of princes. The painting of Percy is that of a 
 poet, to whose eye was ever present the sweeping robes 
 and jewelled dresses of the Gothic courts of romance, 
 and who sometimes ascribed more than the world felt to 
 the pathos and spirit of old song. But Ritson was more 
 than the reverse, he doubted almost all that other men 
 believed; he looked on the promised land of verse, and 
 said, the water is naught and the ground barren. This 
 fastidiousness, and querulous regard for accuracy, did far 
 more harm than Percy's rich and fruitful imagination, 
 which, like the first spell in the magician's book, made 
 
 The cobweb on a dungeon wall 
 Seem tapestry in lordly hall ; 
 A nutshell seem a gilded barge ; 
 A sheeling seem a palace large. 
 
 Whereas Ritson beheld all with the spell-bound look of 
 the warder of Branksome, who, for the heir of Buc- 
 cleuch and his mysterious guide, saw only 
 
 A terrier and lurcher passing out. 
 
 But before I proceed to draiv a farther parallel be-
 
 30 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 tween the poet and the critic, as I am speaking of ima- 
 ginary things, 'and periods of darkness and tradition, it 
 may be as well to listen to the claims of the Bards of 
 Ireland, who, with the Welsh, desire to take precedence 
 in all that concerns our national music and song. 
 
 In the liistory of Irish poetry, the order of creation 
 is reversed, the evening and morning come not ac- 
 cording to natural order ; light precedes darkness, and 
 the dawn is brighter than the mid-day. In the tra- 
 ditions of aU other nations, the farther back we go 
 the darker our way becomes : with the bards of Ireland 
 we may travel into the remotest times, and still our 
 road grows broader and fairer; and the excellence of 
 their poetry, the beauty of their persons, and their im- 
 portance in the world, augment as we proceed. We are 
 indebted to the research or to the fancy of Walker for 
 much curious information respecting them; and if we 
 may credit common belief, Ireland has been famous for 
 song for a longer period than even national vanity seems 
 willing to name. A thousand years might be safely 
 taken from the duration of its poetic fame, and yet 
 enough be left to soothe or please a very reasonable share 
 of pride ; and more than enough to stagger the belief 
 of a very zealous antiquary. Instead of a herd of wild deer 
 chased over a wilder heath by a troop of barefooted bar- 
 barians, and a rude song of triumph or of joy when the 
 venison was preparing on the liearth-fire of a hovel of 
 turf and heather, we are introduced to splendid palaces, 
 to princes and poets in scarlet and in gold, to the thrill 
 of a thousand musical instruments, and polite conten-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 31 
 
 tions between mighty bards in civilized song. All this 
 could never be. 
 
 To imagine a people famous beyond all nations in 
 ancestry and song, with academies for instructing noble 
 youths in this heaven-born art, with poets gifted with 
 the threefold poAvers of bard, prophet, and priest, with 
 kings eager to reward and peasants to admire, and 
 where the sword of the hero and the hearts of princesses 
 were alike under the control and keeping of poesy, — is 
 only to realize to the imagination the court of Ollam 
 Fodla, monarch of Ireland, in the year of the world 
 3236. I claim some indidgence from the ordinary reader 
 for choosing an era of such modest pretensions to anti- 
 quity, when I might have carried him farther into the 
 regions of Celtic romance by a thousand years, and still 
 have presented him with Irish Poesy grown to full size, 
 living with princes, founding academies and palaces, 
 and revelling in epic song. When Ollam came to the 
 throne, he summoned all his tributary kings and na- 
 tional bards, and after recording some salutary laws in 
 the Psalter of Tara, or government chronicle, he pro- 
 ceeded to pass an act regarding the production of that 
 scarce commodity called poetic genius. " He ordained 
 that none but young men of genius and noble descent 
 should be admitted into the order of bards ; that the 
 profession should be hereditary, and, when a bard died, 
 his estate was to devolve not to his eldest son, but to 
 such of his family as discovered the greatest talents for 
 music and poetry." I have not heard what effect this 
 law, which removed that ancient right of nature to con-
 
 32 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ceive and bring forth genius in her own capricious way, 
 had upon song ; and from the silence of history and tra- 
 dition, I am inclined to believe that the glory of Irish 
 verse was not at all increased by ordaining that none 
 should sing but those of noble descent. 
 
 It is to be regretted that this great and literary prince 
 and people have left us nothing to admire but an empty 
 name: of all the poets cherished and rewarded, not 
 one has descended in song to posterity. A great people 
 without any visible monuments of greatness, and a lite- 
 rary nation without any traces of literature, present a 
 riddle too profound for the solution of man. The tem- 
 ples of Greece,— a land strown with works of art, 
 and every hill and vale living yet in living song, — give 
 us an image of ancient greatness which illustrates hi- 
 story ; but of all the splendid poetical academies of Ire- 
 land, where the bards studied nine years by torch-light, 
 of all the songs they sang after this laborious appren- 
 ticeship, we have neither a stone standing nor a verse 
 remaining. When I am told that the bards marched 
 to battle with flowing robes and glittering harps, and 
 stood apart, while the ranks closed, to single out acts of 
 heroism to record in song, I can imagine a rude and un- 
 cultivated and martial people, who, like the Normans, 
 advanced on their enemies amid warlike music and sons : 
 but when I am also told, that the women on a day of bat- 
 tle rushed in among their husbands and brothers, ani- 
 mating them with their war songs and the music of the 
 cruit or harp, I forget that I am reading of a people 
 who lay claim to superior civilization, and think of a
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 33 
 
 liordc of martial barbarians, sucb as the Romans encoun- 
 tered in the naked Britons and painted Caledonians. 
 It is in vain that the penury of this original people 
 is sought to be hid in' magnificent words: the rewards 
 which their princes bestowed on their poets and historians 
 speak of a nation of shepherds — of kings who had little 
 to give, andof genius paidinkind. When the Welsh law 
 restrained bards from begging the king's horse, hawk, 
 or greyhound, we suppose those inspired people were a 
 privileged race, and that it was a point of honour or of 
 superstition to present them with what they desired ; 
 and it is not illiberal to imagine, that as the law ex- 
 tended no protection to the king's plate and coin, he had 
 no coin or plate to protect from the need or the avarice 
 of the poets. In like manner, when we find that a 
 teller of thirty Irish tales was rewarded with a large 
 cow, the relater of forty tales with three that gave milk, 
 while he who repeated fifty stories obtained five cows, 
 or a chariot, or rather a trail-car, according to the nature 
 of his compositions, we have a very curious and in- 
 structive picture of a people semi-barbarous, who had 
 nothing more valuable than their fiocks; and whose 
 palaces in the midst of woody deserts, instead of being 
 embellished with sculptures, and filled with paintings 
 and books, and vessels of silver and gold, were perhaps 
 filled with milch cows, and other indications of pastoral 
 wealth. Nor am I sure that by coming nearer our own 
 times by a thousand years, we shall see any extraordinary 
 influence which the numerous colleges and literary 
 regulations of Ireland exercised over the intellect or the 
 
 VOh. I. D
 
 S4 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 visible wealth of tlie princes and people. In the reign 
 of King Hugh, A. D. 580^ the bards became extremely 
 insolent and corrupt, and their order a national griev- 
 ance. They demanded the golden buckle and pin which 
 fastened the robes on the royal breast ; had there been 
 a croAvn to demand, they would have asked it too : they 
 lampooned the chief nobiHty; and, confiding in their 
 numbers, amounting to one third of the men of Ireland, — 
 a curious calculation — set the monarch at defiance. By 
 the assistance of St. Columba, who was summoned from 
 Scotland, the chief poets were rebuked, their numbers 
 lessened, and the subjects for their muse pointed out by 
 the careful finger of church and state. To the glory of 
 Heaven, the honour of Ireland, the fame of its heroes, 
 and the beauty of its women, they were directed to 
 confine their musings. — But all such laws have been 
 imagined in vain ; for of the poetry of that age, when one 
 third of the men were poets, we have as little as we 
 have of the days of the first Milesians, when Cir Mac 
 Cis and Onna Ceanfinn presided over the poetry of the 
 north and the music of the south, eighteen hundred 
 years before the coming of Christ. 
 
 I shall not attempt to trace the fall of Irish poetry, 
 since I cannot say how far it fell, nor describe the share 
 which Christianity is said to have had in its decline ; 
 nor try to allot to the Danes and the English their several 
 shares in the great wreck of national song. But I very 
 willingly leave the pages of romance and conjecture, and 
 accept the aid of an Englishman and poet, in estimating 
 the character of the Irish bards and their productions.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 35 
 
 It seems to fluctuate between the thief and the patriot, 
 between inflated prose and genuine poesy. During the 
 reign of Queen Elizabeth, Spenser lived long in Ireland, 
 and observed the country and the bards with a poet's eye; 
 he has left us a valuable and a lively picture of an order 
 of men, whom national vanity seeks to conceal beneath 
 the splendid draperies of fiction : — 
 
 " There is amongst the Irish a certain kind of peo- 
 ple called bards, which are to them instead of poets, 
 whose profession is to set forth the praises or dispraises 
 of men in their poems or rhymes ; the which are had in 
 so high regard and estimation amongst them, that none 
 dare displease them, for fear to run into reproach through 
 their oflfence, and to be made infamous in the mouths of 
 all men : for their verses are taken up with a general 
 applause, and usually sung at all feasts and meetings 
 by certain other persons, whose proper function that is, 
 who also receive for the same great rewards and reputa- 
 tion amongst them. They are, for the most part, so far 
 from instructing young men in moral discipline, that 
 they themselves do more deserve to be sharply disci- 
 plined; for they seldom use to choose unto themselves the 
 doings of good men for the arguments of their poems ; but 
 whomsoever they find to be most licentious of life, most 
 bold and lawless in his doings, most dangerous and de- 
 sperate in all parts of disobedience and rebellious dis- 
 position, him they set up and glorify in their rhymes ; 
 him they praise to the people, and to young men make 
 an example to follow. For being, as they all be, brought 
 up idly, without awe of parent^^', witliout precepts of 
 
 d2
 
 3G SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 masters, and without fear of offence ; not being directed 
 or employed in any course of life which may carry them 
 to virtue, will easily be drawn to follow such as any may 
 set before them : for a young mind cannot rest ; if he be 
 not still busied in some goodness, he will find himself 
 such business as shall soon busy all about him. In 
 which, if he shall find any to praise him, and to give him 
 encouragement, as those bards and rhymers do for little 
 reward, or the share of a stolen cow, then waxeth he 
 most insolent, and half mad with the love of himself 
 and his own lewd deeds. And as for words to set forth 
 such lewdness, it is not hard for them to give a goodly 
 and painted show thereunto, borrowed even from the 
 praises as are proper to virtue itself; as of a most 
 notorious thief and wicked outlaw, which had lived all 
 his lifetime on spoils and robberies, one of their bards 
 in his praise will say, that he was none of the idle milk- 
 sops that was brought up by the fireside, but that 
 most of his days he spent in arms and valiant enter- 
 prizes ; that he did never eat his meat before he had 
 won it with his sword ; that he lay not all night slug- 
 o-iuir in a cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to 
 keep others waking to defend their lives ; and did light 
 his candle at the fiames of their houses to lead him in 
 the darkness ; that the day was his night and the night 
 his day ; that he loved not to be long wooing of wenches 
 to yield to him, but where he came he took by force the 
 spoil of other men's love, and left but lamentation to their 
 lovers ; that his music was not the harp nor lays of love, 
 but the cries of people and clashing of armour ; and.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 37 
 
 finally, that he died not bewailed of many, but made 
 many wail when he died, that dearly bought his death. 
 
 " I have caused divers of these poems to be translated 
 unto me, that I might understand them ; and surely they 
 savoured of sweet wit and good invention, but skilled 
 not of the goodly ornaments of poetry ; yet were they 
 sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural 
 device, which gave good grace and comelieness unto 
 them ; the which it is a great pity to see so abused to 
 the gracing of wickedness and vice, which with good 
 usage would serve to adorn and beautify virtue." 
 
 Let me add to this some of the song of the poet of 
 the O'Neil's of Clanna-boy, and the picture of the bard's 
 person and description of his feelings are complete. He 
 sings of the woes of Ireland, and sings like an eloquent 
 barbarian: — "Our miseries were predicted a long time, 
 in the change these strangers wrought in the face of the 
 country. They have hemmed in our sporting lawns, 
 the former theatres of our glory and virtue. They have 
 wounded the earth, and they have disfigured with towers 
 and ramparts those fair fields which nature bestowed for 
 the support of the animal creation. The slaves of Ireland 
 no longer recognize their common mother; she equally 
 disowns us for her children : we both have lost our forms. 
 Hapless land ! the plunderer hath refitted you for his 
 habitation, and we are now moulded for his purposes." 
 When this is sobered down into ordinary language, it is 
 nothing but the lament of a man that his country is be- 
 come cultivated and enclosed, that houses are erected 
 and castles built, and that he has no longer liberty to 
 
 121^'u;
 
 38 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 range in his boundless woods, and feed his flocks by the 
 mountain and the river. This honest effusion is the 
 best answer to those who see in the old and rude insti- 
 tutions of Ireland the perfect works of a civilized and 
 enlightened people, with whom flourished for thousands 
 of years agriculture, architecture, sculpture, chivalry, 
 and song. For the honour which follows the name of 
 those who sang for the delight and instruction of the 
 wise and the noble, let us examine the story of the last 
 representative of the ancient bards, Turlough O'Carolan. 
 He wandered up and down scattering music and song 
 wherever he Avent, among rich and poor : he gave joy to 
 others, but had always poverty to himself j and I have not 
 heard that any of those in v/hose honour he sang, and who 
 loved to talk of the glory of the bards of old, and of the 
 generosity of the princes and nobles, gave him either 
 mantles or milch cows. He died in the 68th year of 
 his age, in 1738, and was buried at Kilronan, in the 
 diocese of Ardagh. " His grave," says Walker, "is still 
 knoAvn to his few surviving friends, and the neighbouring 
 hinds ; and his skull is distinguished from other skulls 
 scattered promiscuously about the churchyard, by a per- 
 foration in the forehead, through which a small piece 
 of riband is drawn." This is fame ! 
 
 But Ireland can urge many real claims to eminence 
 in song, without referring to imaginary epics, visionary 
 tales, and ancient times of poetic glory, to which the 
 most dauntless fancy cannot fix a date. It suits my 
 present purpose to notice, that the northern parts of the 
 island possess many songs, conceived in the ])eculiar
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 89 
 
 humour and funcy of the people; which, with a strong 
 infusion of the spirit of the nation, bear a close resem- 
 blance to the Lowland songs of Scotland. It is evident, 
 they have more of the Saxon than the Celtic feeling in 
 them : yet they express the character of the country -with 
 much liveliness and graphic accuracy. In this will-o'- 
 wisp excursion among woods and wilds with the bards 
 of the sister land, I had hope of finding so fair a pic- 
 ture of their ancient state, that I could have held it 
 up as an image of the former condition of the Scottish 
 and English minstrels. But Truth -wrote on water, and 
 Romance \\Tote on stone. I sought history, and I found 
 fable. Let me return to my native country, and examine 
 the state of the minstrels of the north and south ; and 
 endeavour to delineate their character and condition, 
 from sources more sure and accurate than what are pre- 
 sented by the historians of Ireland. 
 
 When Percy, uith a poet's affection and a scholar's 
 diligence, gathered together the many and curious 
 evidences of the fame of the minstrels and the popu- 
 larity of their songs, he expected a close and critical ex- 
 amination perhaps, but he could have no idea that a 
 critic of learning and research would follow his steps 
 to misinterjiret his authorities, and mock the character 
 which he had so beautifully drawn of this ancient class 
 of men. It is not easy to imagine a liberal reason for 
 Ritson's hostility. It was not love of truth, for he has 
 wilfully closed his eyes on some important historical 
 facts, and opened them wide to misinterpret others. It 
 was not love of our ancient poesy, for to vilify the
 
 40 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 authors of some of our sweetest compositions is to traduce 
 the art itself; but it seems to have arisen from the min- 
 gled spirit of contradiction and envy, and from a resolute 
 wish of exhibiting the rude and ungainly side of a sub- 
 ject Avliich Percy had shown so stately and engaging. 
 Nor was this at all difficult to do. He could come to 
 the contest armed with royal edicts, opinions of nobles, 
 and notices of historians, in which the minstrel art was 
 degraded to the level of buffoonery, and its professors 
 classed with the worthless and the base. But while he 
 brought all this array against the respectability of the 
 calling, he could not be insensible that in a thousand 
 places in story and song, in edicts and in history, the 
 minstrel was classed with the brave and the honourable ; 
 that he sang before princes and nobles ; that his rewards 
 were large, and his immunities worthy of his art and of an 
 opulent and liberal country. This difference seems easily 
 accounted for. A gifted and popular professor of the 
 art of minstrelsy was as far removed above the condition 
 of one who harped and sang to the mere multitude, as 
 the martial song of Marmion is abo^-e the common chant 
 of a metre ballad-maker ; as trauscendant in dignity and 
 eminence, as Siddons is superior to the Lady Macbeth of 
 a strolling actress in a country barn, with blankets for 
 curtains and rustics for an audience. 
 
 Nothing can be more elegant, or, perhaps, more ac- 
 curate, than the character of the minstrels. It is Percy 
 who speaks. — " They were an order of men in the middle 
 ages who united the arts of poetry and music, and sang 
 verses to the harp of their own composing ; avIio appear
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 41 
 
 to have accompuiiied their songs with mimicry and 
 action, and to have practised sucli various means of 
 diverting; as were much admired in those rude times, 
 and supplied the want of more refined entertainments ; 
 whom these arts rendered extremely popular and accept- 
 able in this and all the neighbouring countries, where 
 no high scene of festivity was esteemed complete that 
 was not set oiF with the exercise of their talents ; and 
 where, so long as the spirit of chivalry subsisted, they 
 were protected and caressed, because their songs tended 
 to do honour to the ruling passion of the times, and to 
 encourage and foment a martial spirit." In support of 
 this character many authorities are collected, which give 
 altogether a curious specimen of the manners and feel- 
 ings of those unruly and martial times. 
 
 In the reign of King John, Ranulph Earl of Chester, 
 marching into Wales with a slender retinue, was attacked 
 by the Welsh, and constrained to seek shelter in his 
 castle of Rothelan, where he was instantly besieged. 
 This happened during the great fair of Chester; and 
 Roger de Lacey, the constable, hearing of the earl's dis- 
 tress, collected a multitude of minstrels and players, 
 and other persons whom the festivities of the season had 
 gathered, and putting his son-in-law, Ralph Button, at 
 their head, hastened them onwards to Rothelan. The 
 Welsh, mistaking them for an army of disciplined vete- 
 rans, dispersed, and the siege was raised. For this good 
 service, Ranulph granted to Button and his descendants 
 a peculiar patronage over minstrels, players, and other 
 merry companions; and it appears, that as late as the
 
 4-2 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 14th of Henry the Seventh, Laurence Button, Lord of 
 Dutton, claimed, that aU minstrels inhabiting or exer- 
 cising their office within the county and city of Chester 
 should appear before him or liis steward on the feast 
 of St. John yearly, and give him at the said feast four 
 flagons of wine and one lance ; and that every minstrel 
 should pay him fourpence-halfpenny. When Edward 
 the First went to the Holy Land, he was accompanied 
 by a harper or minstrel ; and this person seems to liave 
 been an inmate of the prince's tent ; for when Edward 
 was wounded by the Saracen, the harper rushed in, and 
 beat out the assassin's brains with a tripod. The 
 notice of historians, and the song of Gray, will per- 
 petuate Edwai-d's ferocity to the bards of Wales, whose 
 influence over a rude and a martial people was in the 
 way of his ambition ; yet in his own court the minstrels 
 appear to have been distinguished by royal favour. When, 
 in 1306, he conferred the honour of knighthood on his 
 son and on many of the young nobility, a multitude of 
 minstrels were introduced, to kindle, by their music and 
 their songs, an enthusiasm among the newly made 
 knights, to induce them to make some military vow. This 
 unwonted kindness of Edward to the professors of min- 
 strelsy boded no good to the liberties of Scotland. 
 The vow which they inspired in the king was, that he 
 would take ample vengeance on Robert Bruce, for in- 
 sulting God, the church, and himself; and having done 
 that duty, would sheathe his sword against Christians, 
 hasten to Palestine, and fight as long as he lived against 
 the h(!athen. I know not what the vow of the knights
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 43 
 
 was, but that of young Edward is recorded. lie would 
 put himself at the head of the army, and not remain two 
 nights in one place till he reached Scotland. A curious 
 passage in Stow proves that minstrels were, like heralds, 
 a privileged race, and that they could pass at pleasure 
 into the royal presence. In 131 G, while Edward the 
 Second solemnized the feast of Pentecost in the great 
 Hall of Westminster, and sat with all his peers around 
 him, there entered a woman adorned like a minstrel, 
 sitting on a great horse, trapped as minstrels then used, 
 who rode round the tables showing pastime, then laid 
 a letter before the king, saluted the presence, and de- 
 parted. The letter was a remonstrance with his majesty 
 concerning the favours he conferred on minions. 
 
 When Henry the Fifth embarked for the French wars, 
 in 1415, he ordered his minstrels, iifteen in number, to 
 attend him, to each of whom he gave an allowance of 
 twelvepence a day: a liberal salary in those times. 
 Though he provided, by his valour and heroism, one of the 
 finest themes for poesy of any of our kings, such was 
 his modesty that he would not allow, on his return to 
 London, the helmet which he wore at Agincourt to be 
 carried before him, for the people to see the dints and 
 cuts which it had endured in the day of battle; nor 
 would he allow any ditties to be made or sung by min- 
 strels in honour of his victory, modestly ascribing the 
 whole praise to God alone. But this did not proceed 
 from any disregard for the professors of music and song; 
 for next year at the feast of Pentecost, when the Em- 
 peror and the Duke of Holland were his guests, he or-
 
 44 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 dered rich gowns for his minstrels, and to each of tliem 
 he orally bequeathed one hundred shillings yearly, which 
 his son caused to be paid out of the exchequer. 
 
 On a complaint made to Edward the Fourth, that vari- 
 ous rude and incompetent persons had assumed the name 
 and habit of the king's minstrels, and collected money 
 in several parts of the kingdom, his majesty granted to 
 Walter Haliday, marshal of his minstrels, and to seven of 
 his brethren, a charter, which empowered them to ex- 
 amine the pretensions of all who affected to follow the 
 minstrel profession, and to admit them to their rights and 
 immunities, or to silence and punish them. Walter Hali- 
 day seems to have been a favourite minstrel during three 
 reigns : I am willing to claim him as a minstrel of the 
 "North Countrie," probably belonging to the ancient 
 house of Haliday in Dumfriesshire. Alexander Carlyle, 
 another of the minstrels, has also a name with a northern 
 sound. 
 
 Such are the chief authorities on which Percy depends 
 for support, in the history of minstrelsy and his character 
 of its professors ; and these seem so conclusive, as to place 
 the fame and name of our old bards and musicians be- 
 yond the suspicions of criticism, and the cavils of anti- 
 quarians. To those, and they may be many, who are 
 un^villing to bury themselves with Ritson among the 
 rubbish of verse or history, I shall seek to express his 
 doubts with clearness and brevity, and describe the means 
 and manner by which he hoped to level with the ground 
 the beautiful Gothic fabric raised, as the antiquarian 
 imagined, by the enchantments of Percy.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 45 
 
 The critic commences by permitting France and Spain 
 to enjoy the reputation which history gives them of a 
 race of minstrels who united the genius of the poet 
 with the skill of the musician, and went from bower to 
 hall, singing to the noble and the far-descended of valour 
 and of beauty. This was too well authenticated tobe rashly 
 disputed, nor did it suit his purpose to doubt the conti- 
 nental character of the minstrel ; but he denies to Eng- 
 land the pleasure of ever having heard, in her native 
 tongue, the union of poetry and music from the lips and 
 hands of her minstrels. He tells how the Norman min- 
 strel Taillefer fell at the battle of Hastings, singing the 
 ballad of RoUo — because he sang in a foreign language ; 
 and he is willing to admit that Richard the First was 
 discovered in his captivity by the courage and skill of 
 his minstrel — since the song which Blondel sang, and to 
 which the king responded, is composed in French. But he 
 believes and endeavours tojjrove, that the minstrels who 
 composed songs and sang them to music at the English 
 court were all foreigners, and their compositions in their 
 native tongue; and that the real minstrel of England was 
 a mere musician, who never conceived a verse nor sang a 
 song to the sound of either harp or lute. He laughs, — 
 and one cannot well forbear smiling, — at the ludicrous 
 military array of those minstrels who marched from 
 Chester fair along with their impure comrades, whom I 
 am content to name '''merrie companions" with the modest 
 historian, to the relief of Earl Ranulph : but this only 
 proves that in the reign of King John they were a nume- 
 rous class of men, and that the exercise of their art.
 
 46 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 whether of poetry or music, or both, was productive, 
 since so many lived by it. If they sang, their songs 
 would be the common language of the country ; those 
 who wish to please must endeavour to be understood. 
 
 If the Chester minstrels have left it doubtful whether 
 they sang to please the multitude, or merely limited the 
 pleasure they wished to give to their instruments alone, 
 there can be no doubt that the minstrels, who assembled 
 by the order of Edward the First, both sang and played. 
 Music without language was too refined an instrument 
 for such a politician as Edward. It seems but an im- 
 perfect teller of purposes ; and the music which moved 
 his nobles and knights had more of a human tongue in 
 it than any mere sounds of our own times, if they could 
 distinguish whether it urged them to a Scottish or a 
 French war. Ritson appears to have felt this; and 
 though he is very curious and scrupulous about proofs 
 both in verse and prose when other men seek to esta- 
 blish any conclusive point, yet he is willing to be satis- 
 fied with mere assertion in aid of himself, when he de- 
 clares that the existence of music and song by no means 
 proves the minstrels to have been Englishmen. Now 
 though it be true, that many national songs of this period 
 were vvrritten in French, it is also true, that many 
 were composed in the national language : the songs 
 of Robin Hood were popular at this period, so were 
 ballads in honour of Ranulph, the gallant Earl of 
 Chester ; and the disastrous wars between Scotland 
 and England were the cause of songs on both sides of 
 the Tweed, in the common speech of the country. We
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 47 
 
 know that the English language, about this period, 
 acquired a harmony and a vigour lit for any purpose of 
 heroic song. We know that it was widely spoken and 
 commonly written, that it was the language of the nobles 
 and the peoj)le, for foreign speech was confined to a few; 
 and why should we conclude that the youths of England 
 were moved on to an heroic enterprise in other language 
 than their own ? We are told, indeed, that Edward the 
 Second took a carmelite friar Avith him, to sing of his 
 exploits in Scotland; and that he paid a poet's ransom, by 
 singing a Latin song in honour of the hero of Bannock- 
 burn. But though his song, such as it is, is written in 
 Latin, it is only a proof of the taste of the friar; his was 
 the failing of a far finer and later genius, George Bu- 
 chanan ; a failing common to many learned men, and by 
 no means a proof that ladies' charm and knights' exploits 
 were commonly commended in Latin. Were the min- 
 strels of Henry the Fifth, Walter Haliday and Alexander 
 Carlyle, foreigners } I am speaking of an age to which 
 the genius of Chaucer and Barbour may be said to be- 
 long ; and surely the language which they wrote is worthy 
 of being measured out to any music that ever came from 
 harp or lute. It has softness and grace equal to the ex- 
 pression of the most tender sentiments; and strength 
 and nobleness equal to the description of the most adven- 
 turous and heroic deeds. 
 
 For the same purpose, and with the same wish to 
 prove that no English minstrel ever united the arts of 
 poetry and music, and sang verses to the harp of his own 
 composing, Ritson descends step by step through va-
 
 48 SCOTTISH SONGS. ' 
 
 rious reigns to the days of Elizabeth ; examining old 
 chronicles, and scarce tracts, and obscure verses, Avith 
 the most j^iainful and inquisitive diligence. He collects 
 many remarkable passages, where minstrels are described 
 as mere musicians, and classed with the idle and the dis- 
 solute ; but he abstains from touching on those authori- 
 ties, and they are many, which through a long lapse of 
 years give the minstrels song as well as melody. With 
 the reign of Elizabeth, the glory or the shame of the 
 minstrels terminates : their friends and their enemies 
 alike agree that they are become unworthy of further 
 notice, and have wholly fallen from that station which 
 the chief professors of the art maintained in the courts 
 of kings, and the castles of nobles, through a succession 
 of centuries. The glossarists explain minstrels to mean 
 musicians, but they explain it from the visible symbol 
 of the profession, the instrument which they carried to 
 assist them in song. Men would call the old poet so 
 beautifully described in the introductory lines of " The 
 Lav of the last Minstrel" a harper, since a harp is 
 carried at his side ; but the moment he commences the 
 song which 
 
 Was not framed for village churls, 
 
 he becomes a minstrel to the car as well as to the eye, 
 and a poet too ; in spite of Sir Henry Sjielman, and all 
 other people M'ho understood the direct but not the 
 figurative meaning. 
 
 But no point Avhich the ungenerous industry or the 
 perverse pride of learning ever sought to establish has
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 49 
 
 been so completely demolished as this. Authorities, 
 learned and unlearned, men Avho speak in the lan- 
 guage of the country, and those who speak in that of a 
 foreign land : the monk in his cell, — the poet in his 
 song, the historian in his history, have been summoned 
 from the dust of museums, and the dwelling-places of 
 moths, to confound Ritson and all his imaginings. That 
 minstrel means both bard and musician, no one may 
 longer doubt ; but it must be confessed the name of 
 poet cannot, without outraging all charitable belief, ex- 
 tend itself over the unsummable multitudes, who wan- 
 dered harp in hand about the country wearing the min- 
 strel's cloak, and contributing to the amusement of the 
 rabble. Some of the authorities are rare and entertain- 
 ing. In the romance of Emrare, which from its obsolete 
 style, nakedness of story, and poverty of incident, Percy 
 supposes to rank next in age to Hornchild, we have — 
 
 I have heard minstrels sing yn sawe ; 
 
 and in a poem by Adam Davie, author of some me- 
 trical visions as old as Edward the Second, we find 
 this distich — 
 
 Merry it is in hall to hear the harp, 
 The minstrels sing, the jogelours carpe. 
 
 So also William of Nassyngton, who wrote soon after, 
 says — 
 
 I will make no vain carping 
 
 Of deeds of arms, nor of amours, 
 
 As does minstrels and gestours ; 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 That makes carping in many a place 
 Of Octaviene and Isumbrasse. 
 
 That the minstrels were singers as well as musicians 
 these quotations sufficiently prove ; and that they com- 
 posed verses which they chanted or sang to the harp, 
 there are proofs in abundance. In the romance of Em- 
 rare we find the following exhortation : — 
 
 Minstrels that walken fer and wide. 
 Here and there on every side. 
 
 In mony a diverse londe ; 
 Should at her beginning 
 Speak of that righteous king 
 
 That made both sea and land. 
 
 In the ancient song of Guy and Colbrande, the min- 
 strel speaks more openly: — 
 
 When meat and drink in great plentye, 
 Then lords and ladies still will be. 
 
 And sit and solace lythe ; 
 Then it is time for me to speak 
 Of keen knights and kempes great. 
 
 Such carping for to kythe. 
 
 And Hollinshed, translating the prohibition of Henry 
 the Fifth to his minstrels, on his return from Agincourt, 
 that they should abstain from composing songs in honour 
 of his success, says clearly that he woidd not permit any 
 ditties to be made and sung by minstrels on his glorious 
 victory : and we have proof enough that most of his min-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 51 
 
 strcls were Englishmen- It seems to me that Percy in 
 the number of his authorities either overlooked or dis- 
 regarded one of the most respectable and conclusive, in- 
 asmuch as it gives evidence of the music^ of the song, 
 and of the language. In the prologue to the Canterbury 
 Tales, written about the year 1388, Chaucer confers all 
 the attril)utes of a minstrel on his friar. I know not 
 whether I am more pleased with the singular testimony 
 which the passage yields to the description of Percy, or 
 the happy and vigorous language of the father of En- 
 glish poesie. 
 
 His tippet was ay farsed ful of knives. 
 And pinnes for to given faire wives ; 
 And certainly he had a merry note, 
 Wei could he singe and plaien on a rote ; 
 Of yeddinges he bare utterly the pris. 
 His nekke was white as is the fleur-de-lis. 
 But he was like a maister or a pope. 
 Of double worsted was his semicope. 
 That round was as a beUe out of the presse. 
 Somewhat he lisped, for his wantonesse 
 To make his English sweet upon his tongue ; 
 And in his harping when that he hadde songe. 
 His eyen twinkled in his hed aright. 
 As donne the starres in a frosty night. 
 
 It is now time, and more than time, to leave the min- 
 strels and bards of our sister lands in the obscurity into 
 which the variable taste of mankind, and the universal 
 (lifFusion of literature, by the pen and by the press, 
 
 k2
 
 52 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 had thrown them and their art; and inquire into the 
 character and productions of those who belonged to 
 Scotland. But in writing the story of the southern 
 minstrelsy, we are telling the tale of the northern. It 
 is the offspring of the same people, of the same taste, of 
 the same feelings, of the same hardihood in martial ad- 
 ventures, with the like love for the strange and the su- 
 perhuman. Our minstrels, like their brethren of the 
 south, frequented the courts of our princes, the castles 
 of our nobles, and the bowers of our ladies. They sang 
 the same themes of valour and of beauty, of true history 
 and wild romance, of domestic calamities, or of national 
 welfare. They experienced, too, the same vicissitudes of 
 fortune — pleased the ear of the princes and the pride of 
 the people at one time : or suffered by their neglect, by 
 their caprice, and by the cruelty of their edicts at another. 
 
 No longer courted and caressed. 
 High placed in hall a welcome guest. 
 He poured to lord and lady gay 
 The unpremeditated lay. 
 A wandering harper scorned and poor. 
 He begged his bread from door to door ; 
 And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, 
 The harp a king had loved to hear. 
 
 A Stewart, a Douglas, a Seton, or a Gordon, listened 
 to the minstrel and his song with as fond an ear, and re- 
 warded him '\\ith as liberal a hand, as a Plantagenet, a 
 Percy, or a Howard. But he found the hand that was 
 ready to give was as prompt to punish; and the oral
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 53 
 
 poets and historians of the land had to bewail, in the 
 north as well as in the south, the rigorous justice or the 
 hasty cruelty of their princes and nobles : nor was this 
 to be wondered at, for the honour or dishonour of nobility 
 and knighthood seemed so much at the mercy of an order 
 of men, who had all the fierce passions common to genius, 
 and who perhaps were sometimes more willing to sig- 
 nalize unpopular themes than pour out their songs accord- 
 ing to the measure of their patrons' wishes, or the poli- 
 tics of the court. Or we may consider them desirous 
 of rewarding in song the valour which protected their 
 country, or the beauty which adorned it. But the poet 
 who sang of the bravery of a Black Douglas would hurt 
 the vanity of the Red ; he who soothed the pride of a 
 Scott would find a Kerr an ungrateful listener ; what 
 made a Home smile might make a Hamilton frown, and 
 the verse which might extract a largesse from the 
 hand of a Maxwell would bring the author a speedy 
 blow from that of a Johnstone. The pride of one clan 
 was in arms against the pride of another : district was jea- 
 lous of the fame of district, and town of the reputation of 
 to^vn ; while he who sang a partial or a party strain was 
 sacrificed as animosities rose or subsided. 
 
 There were themes, nevertheless, for which the min- 
 strels could ever find willing listeners : a military inroad 
 upon England, or a romance steeped deep in the streams 
 of ancient belief and popular superstition. The charms 
 of a moonlight raid could only be equalled by those 
 of an equestrian procession of the spiritual people with 
 whom belief had tenanted vale and hill ; and the clang
 
 54 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of the trumpet or the horn that summoned to battle was 
 rivalled by the sound of the elfin-pipe, and the melody 
 of the fairy minstrelsy. The storming of a rich town 
 gave way to the description of the palace of fairyland ; 
 and the prospect of much booty, to that of seizing a 
 charmed ring or an enchanted SAvord. A castle where 
 warders paced, and where archers stood with their bows 
 bent, was a less pleasant sight to a martial people than 
 the palaces of polished steel, or the walls of burnished 
 brass, which the wizard's skill promised of old for the 
 glory of Scotland. A Wallace quelling a Red Reaver, or a 
 Bruce slaying a Bohun,_^^filled the minds of an imagina- 
 tive people much less than the story of the Hero and the 
 Spirit of Gaskhall ; which I confess I never read while 
 a boy without a shudder : or the tale of Michael Scott 
 and his infernal steed, with its hoof lifted for the third 
 stamp which was to sink Paris. If it were the pleasures 
 of midnight booty, which charged the shield of one of 
 our most illustrious families with the moon and stars ; it 
 was the influence of a romantic imagination, which 
 added the savage warder and the mermaid for sup- 
 porters. If the hand and dagger, and the bold " I dare," 
 of the name of Kirkpatrick belong to the page of hi- 
 story, it was a mixed love of poetry and danger which 
 added wings to the spur of the Johnstones. 
 
 Yet martial as the songs of the minstrels were, I am 
 not prepared to say that they werfe conceived on the field 
 of battle, and that, like the poets of the Normans, they 
 chanted warlike songs as they rushed to the attack ; or 
 with a mixture of poetic fury and military glee marched
 
 SCOTTISH SONCiS. 55 
 
 with harp and sword to death or glory, like the bards of 
 the ancient Irish. Froissart, who has left us such a 
 vivid picture of the army with which Randolph and 
 Douglas foiled young King Edward at Stanhope Park, 
 has nowhere alluded to any sounds more harmonious 
 than the clamour of horns, and the shouting of the 
 names of leaders. He was too much of a poet, too fond 
 of the picturesque, and far too anxious and accurate an 
 inquirer, to have left the poet and his art unnoticed, had 
 a minstrel been in the camp. The dress of the minstrel, 
 and the instrument with which he was encumbered, 
 seem unfit for a rapid march, and all the changes of for- 
 tune pertaining to the military life. He who sang of 
 valour might have failed in personating a hero; and the 
 most inspired strain of poesy could not well augment 
 the fury or the animosity with which nation at that time 
 regarded nation. It was in a scene where the helmet 
 and cuirass were laid aside for the velvet dress of peace, 
 where princes sued and ladies presided, that the min- 
 strel, with his harp and song, was to be found. When 
 he was away from the ranks of war, he was to be sought 
 as a minister of pleasure in such a court as that of 
 James, on which Douglas refused to smile, and to which 
 Lady Heron sang. 
 
 It is not necessary that I should seek for the period 
 when the minstrelsy of Scotland was most famous, or to 
 what source their romantic legends are to be ascribed. 
 He who reads the introduction to the romance of Sir 
 Tristram will find more curious learning illustrating 
 the subject than would gratify the most avaricious an-
 
 56 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 tiquary, and genius and skill enough to satisfy the 
 greatest unbeliever in the northern antiquity of the oral 
 art. I think the Scottish origin of the earliest British 
 romance, composed in the native tongue, is sufficiently 
 clear ; and also the superiority of the language in which 
 it is Avritten over the first specimens that we have of 
 the labours of the English muse : but I am not quite so 
 satisfied of the Celtic origin of the romances which were 
 showered so thickly over Scotland ; though they have 
 certainly caught a colouring from the traditions and be- 
 liefs of the original inhabitants. I may aptly enough 
 compare them with the language of the land — the 
 mixed offspring of the speech of various tribes and 
 nations, but amid which the Gothic prevails ; and which, 
 like a river augmenting its waters with many lesser 
 streams, gives an impress and character to the whole. If 
 our romance, like a curious piece of cabinet-work, was 
 inlaid with Celtic or Scandinavian materials, the ground- 
 work was undoubtedly Saxon. All that gave strength 
 and durability arose from the people whose numbers 
 and A\'hose language prevailed. The labour of the in- 
 quiry would be certain, and the rCTvard unsure, if some 
 more extensive research were made to ascertain if the 
 Arabian or JMoorish lore had any influence, through the 
 crusades, upon the northern romances and superstitious 
 beliefs. Limited as my own knoAvledge is, and the 
 learning of all other nations lying to me in utter dark- 
 ness, since I am acquainted with no other language than 
 my OAvn, I have often imagined, as I read the history of the 
 Arabians, and had their manners, and customs, and love
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 57 
 
 of poetry, and romantic adventure, laid by the historian 
 or the traveller before me, that in return for the va- 
 lour and the folly which Europe formerly sent against 
 them, they had exported some of their wild fictions, and 
 their passion for the extravagant and the strange. Our 
 northern warriors were not fonder of the sword-blades of 
 Damascus than they were of the wild fictions with which 
 eastern story abounds ; and if the sight of the more per- 
 fect structures of the East for beauty or defence had 
 some influence on the castles and towers of those cru- 
 saders who had the good fortune to return, may we not 
 imagine that the romantic song of the north also profited 
 by an infusion from its literature, though it had to be 
 translated to be understood ? Yet, after all, it is beyond 
 doubt that the acts, true or fabulous, of the ancient 
 people of the land, and the names of the British wor- 
 thies, have given subjects to romantic poets over Eu- 
 rope ; and that elaborate fiction has, while it preserved, 
 almost overlaid the name of Arthur and his renowned 
 companions. But the manner in which those fictions 
 are told, the superstitions they involve, and the feelings 
 they consecrate, evince more of Saxon than of Celtic 
 character ; and I contemplate them as Gothic stories, in 
 spite of Celtic names of places and heroes. 
 
 The choice which Thomas of Erceldoune made was 
 a Celtic subject — the language in which it is written 
 is that of England. The period of the composition of 
 his poem may be fixed, according as the reader's fancy 
 chooses to please youth, or indulge age, in the luxury of
 
 58 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 romance writing : his life did not extend to 1299, and 
 we find him in high reputation for prescience at the 
 time of Alexander's death in 1286 ; and if we may trust 
 the dubious testimony of the minstrel Henry, he pro- 
 phesied the future glory of the deliverer of Scotland, 
 when he was thrown for dead out of the prison of Ayr 
 about 1295. He has the fame of a prophet, and there 
 can be no doubt that he was familiarly known by the 
 name of the Rhymer ; but there is no native proof that 
 he was ever famed as a minstrel, in the strict ren- 
 dering of the word. The author of the romance of 
 Sir Perceval names him among those minstrels who had 
 sung of the varied fortunes of Sir Tristram ; and Got- 
 fried von Strasburgh calls him a master of the art of 
 romance. These authorities are conclusive with respect 
 to the name he was recognised by in foreign lands ; and 
 there can be no doubt, from testimony,viTitten as well as 
 oral, that he was a person of some rank, and honoured 
 with the acquaintance of the great and the gallant of the 
 period in which he lived. Of the character of his poetry, 
 and the nature of the language which he used, we have 
 the evidence of Robert de Brunne, the annalist. The 
 Englishman complains of the ambitious and ornate kind 
 of language in which Sir Tristram is ^vritten, and of its 
 difficult and complicated verse ; which required such a 
 succession of corresponding rhymes, as rendered it less 
 easy to commit to memory than his own jingling couplets. 
 If the complaint of the annalist be true, then the author 
 of Sir Tristram was master of a richer, and a purer, and
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 59 
 
 more elegant language than was known in England 
 when he wrote ; if it be groundless, then the opinion of 
 Ritson is incorrect, when he says, that the English had 
 no language fit for the uses of poetry before the days 
 of Chaucer. 
 
 As Thomas of Erceldoune is the oldest Scottish poet 
 to whom history or tradition assigns the merit of com- 
 posing in English, I must conclude that those minstrels 
 who sang and suffered during the short reign of Mac- 
 beth were either a dynasty of Highland bards who com- 
 posed in Erse, or that the English language was of far 
 older standing in Scotland than is generally allowed. 
 But I tliink the state of Scotland, at that period, re- 
 sembled so entirely the condition of England, that the hi- 
 story of the one gives a distinct image of the other. When 
 the first Edward rewarded the minstrels who harped and 
 sang to his court, and punished the bards of the princi- 
 pality of Wales, he rewarded cautious loyalty wliile 
 he gave treason its due. In like manner the minstrels 
 at the Scottish court were ranked with knights and he- 
 ralds, and were indulged with robes of silk, — a dress 
 limited to persons who could spend a hundred pounds 
 of land rent ; while the bards of the Highlands were 
 classed with fools and knaves, and ordered to seek 
 some commendable livelihood, " on pain of being branded 
 on the cheek, scourged with rods, or draAvn like horse 
 in the plough and harrows." Here I observe the sa- 
 gacity of a prince, who rewarded those whose songs 
 were in derision of his enemies, or in honour of loyal 
 lieroes of the land ; while he punished and degraded the
 
 60 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 bards of a vanquished and turbulent people, whose pro- 
 ductions probably reminded them too often of their an- 
 cient independence, and who sang the achievements 
 against the Saxon and the law of some of the more fero- 
 cious and desperate chieftains. Dr. Burney says the first 
 Greek musicians were gods, the second heroes, the third 
 bards, and the fourth beggars : it would be imj^rudent and 
 unjust to claim celestial honours for our Caledonian bards; 
 to the third and fourth honours of the Athenian scale 
 we may safely aspire ; and I gladly leave the Irish and 
 the Welsh to divide the more lofty and less attainable 
 honours between them. 
 
 When Gelimer, the vanquished King of the Vandals, 
 implored from the clemency of his Roman conqueror a 
 lyre, a spunge, and a loaf of bread, he is supposed to 
 have asked a boon Avhich he thought necessary for his 
 pleasure, his comfort, and his existence. It was long 
 since the monarch of Africa had tasted bread ; a de- 
 fluxion had fallen on his eyes, the effect of fatigue or in- 
 cessant weeping; and he wished to solace the melan- 
 choly hours, by singing to the lyre the sad story of his 
 own misfortunes. When Venantius Fortunatus assigns 
 the lyre to the polished Romans, he resigns the harp to 
 the hands of the barbarians ; and the request of Gelimer 
 would have been more national had he desired a harp 
 instead of a lyre. But whatever instrument he asked 
 for, the inference must be the same, that in seeking to 
 unite music and poetry he sought a solace common to 
 his nation ; and in becoming the minstrel of his own mis- 
 fortunes he gives an example to his Gothic descendants.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 61 
 
 and bids us read the character of our ancestors in his 
 affecting and singular story. The Welsh, the Irish, and 
 the northern Scots, have all in their turns, though the 
 children of another people, sung to the harp the story of 
 their own misfortunes ; and have sent from their woods, 
 their mountains, and their morasses, a long and continued 
 note of sorrow for their lost independence, the decay 
 of their language, and the gradual disappearance from 
 anions; the nations of their fame and their name. Their 
 language has yielded, because the genius which supported 
 it was unequal to the task of making it popular in lite- 
 rature ; and as all their monuments of greatness were 
 oral, their traces must in time disappear from the earth, 
 — like the actor, A\'ho can leave no image of his genius 
 beliind. 
 
 When the earlier English poetry of Scotland was 
 committed to the memories of the people, the pen had 
 not been taught to come to the aid of the muse ; its 
 office was of a more holy, though not less poetical, na- 
 ture; and in recording the legends and miracles of 
 saints, and in tracing history hardly less fabulous, it was 
 less worthily employed than in preserving the labours of 
 an art which many of the pious deemed profane. If the 
 church accounted minstrelsy heathenish, the laity would 
 feel it expensive, if the swarms of its professors obtained 
 from the generosity of the people food and raiment, such 
 as was the reward of Henrj^ the minstrel. It is not often 
 indeed that minstrels are named in Scottish story, and 
 they are not always mentioned with that respect which 
 men ought to obtain who aspire to inspiration Yet to
 
 62 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 them we must ascribe the early reputation whicli our 
 country obtained for romantic poetry, the multitude 
 of wild and singular traditional stories for which our 
 border counties have been long famous, and that impress 
 and stamp of chivalry which distinguish much of our 
 lyric poetry. To this I may add, that they lived in a 
 land from which romantic fiction sprang, where the 
 chief heroes were born, and disciplined to arms and 
 courtesy. Ettricke Forest was the wood beloved by 
 Merlin, and he is buried at Drumelyier on Tweed, in 
 the territories of Urien and Ywain. Galloway was the 
 patrimony of Gawain, and the reputed scene of the ad- 
 ventures of Sir Grime and Sir Gray Steil. At Stowe, 
 in the vale of Gala, near Melrose, we are assured by the 
 historian that Arthur deposited a piece of the true 
 cross; and tradition still points out the tomb of the 
 beautiful Gunever, between Cupar and Forfar. Car- 
 lisle, at that period included in the kingdom or de- 
 pendencies of Scotland, was the Carduel of romance, the 
 favourite residence of Arthur ; and between that city 
 and Penrith is his " Round table," which, like his ro- 
 mantic " Seat," still preserves his memory. A thousand 
 lesser traditions, conceived in the same curious spirit 
 with the romances of the minstrels, might be mentioned 
 as the local offspring of this genial soil ; all combining 
 to prove how long the impulse of poetic creation lasted 
 and lingered, with all its attendant beliefs and super- 
 stitions, among the valleys and secluded houses of the 
 border. I might quote a thousand authorities from verse 
 and history, to prove the pre-eminence in ballad and
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. G3 
 
 song of the minstrels of the " north countrie :" but I 
 choose rather to establish this by the excellence of the 
 collection which I wish to make than to claim honour 
 for what may have perished, or suffered that change 
 which all oral poetry has endured. 
 
 The " Rich Stronde/' on which Marinell was thrown 
 by Britomart, Avas not more thickly bestrewed 
 
 With pearls and precious stones of great assay, 
 
 than names, and Knes, and fragments, of our ancient 
 song, may be seen floating on the early waves of the 
 tide of Scottish literature. From the day when Gawain 
 Douglas wrote, till the time that Allan Ramsay col- 
 lected, Ave find in many a strange and unexpected place 
 the impression which the popular songs of Scotland 
 made on the various spirits Avhich the change, and fac- 
 tion, and civil animosities of those eventful times brought 
 into action and popularity. The legends of the church 
 had, for a Avhile, begun to sink under the flood of coarse 
 sarcasm, or ironical satire, Avhich the poets, Avith Sir 
 David Lindsay at their head, poured upon it ; and the 
 saints, or gods of stone or silver, forsook their niches for 
 the hammer or the crucible of the Reformers, avIio de- 
 spised and destroyed those gross and sensible symbols of 
 the sinking religion. The aAA'akened spirit of the land 
 Avent abroad, and as the old religion had invested itself 
 with all the outAvard signs and tokens of earthly power 
 and splendour, the neAV and purer Avorship perhaps 
 despised too much the association of the simple and 
 comprehensible doctrine of Christ Avith the grandeur
 
 64 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of Gothic architecture, the imposing magnificence of 
 dress ; and, above all, the effective aid of devout instru- 
 mental music, which seizes so powerfidly on the minds 
 of an imaginative people. The ministers of the declining 
 church had been long degenerating from that pure and 
 lofty race of beings, whose stirring genius and active 
 virtues save life and renown to the churches of Asia 
 and Europe. They slumbered in luxurious indolence, 
 or sensual pleasure ; and when the world began to emerge 
 from the darkness of ignorance, they alone endeavoured 
 to retard its rise, or sought to extinguish the day-dawn 
 of liberty, learning, and useful knowledge. They had 
 long fostered the ignorance and encouraged the pastimes 
 of the vulgar ; sanctioned profane representations of sa- 
 cred plays, tolerated the personations of the divinest 
 characters, and allowed and encouraged men to make 
 familiar with the most awful symbols of heavenly joys, 
 or everlasting punishment. In promoting this desire for 
 shows, and plays, and pageants, half holy, half heathenish, 
 they introduced the multitude to the secrets of monkish 
 imposture, and taught them unwittingly to smile at their 
 own legends ; to doubt the influence of their saints of 
 wood and stone, the efficacy of their relics, and to laugh 
 outright at aU prayers addressed elsewhere than to the 
 God of the universe. With the decline or fall of the 
 ancient church, I apprehend the fictions of romance fell 
 into discredit also ; and in Scotland, at least, the Re- 
 formation had the effect of quenching the flame of poetry, 
 and of turning the genius which nature wished to con- 
 secrate to the muse to more popular or more lucrative
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. Go 
 
 I)urposes. The genius of poesy, in the Gothic days of 
 the church, delighted in gorgeous and splendid things, 
 in processions of sacred persons, in deeds of chivalry, in 
 actions which hovered on the limits of probability, and 
 in the magnificent scenes of courts and camps, where all 
 was addressed to the eye or to the ear. But the poetic 
 genius which followed was of a more simple and severe 
 character. The lyric muse assumed a meek and an 
 austere look, sang only of holy or edifying things, and 
 walked abroad with a sedate step, " with leaden eyes 
 that love the ground," and without the licentious ac- 
 companiment of music. 
 
 To endeavour to ascertain how much of our popular 
 lyric poetry has survived the Reformation would be a 
 fruitless effort of patriotism ; for all at that period, and 
 long after, was floating in the wide sea of oral remem- 
 brance, and Allan Ramsay was the first A^■ho made a 
 successful attempt to snatch a portion from oblivion. 
 The multitude of names, and fragments of forgotten 
 songs, which are scattered about the humorous poems 
 of our two royal James's, in the exquisite introduc- 
 tions to the books of the Eneid by Gawain Douglas, 
 and in those strange and singular productions, Cockel- 
 bey's Sow, and the Complaynt of Scotland, may -v^'cll 
 excite our sympathy for the lost favourites of our fore- 
 fathers. But it may serve to lessen our regret to kno^v 
 that some of those songs were unusually licentious and 
 indelicate. It has been my good or my bad fortune to 
 retrieve several of those regretted ^^'orthies ; and it has 
 cost me a labour equal to original composition to recall 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 6^ SCOTTISH SONGS, 
 
 them back to something like modesty and discretion. I 
 am not sure that I shall act prudently in pointing them 
 out ; the antiquary will regret the change of what is old 
 into what is new, and the nice and the inquisitive will 
 regard them with a suspicious eye, and imagine that 
 under the outward garb of decency and decorum the evil 
 spirit still remains — that I have not wholly succeeded 
 in evoking the tiend of licentiousness. 
 
 Few songs of the days of the minstrels have perhaps 
 reached us, none probably in the language and form of 
 the time. Songs which descend from generation to ge- 
 neration are changed or amended according to the taste 
 or caprice of the multitude, at whose mercy all oral 
 things lie ; and nothing seems so nmtable as lyric poetry. 
 During the long period when memory performed the 
 functions of the press, many songs must have appeared, 
 and made an impression on the public mind, till others 
 more beautiful, or possessing more popular qualities, 
 came, and consigned their predecessors to silence and to 
 oblivion. There are instances where songs breathing a kin- 
 dred sentiment, and expressing with more elegance and 
 more point the same story of some of our elder lyrics, have 
 succeeded in supplanting them in popular esteem, and 
 in expelling them from our collections. Burns, who, of 
 all poets that ever breathed, possessed the most happy 
 tact of pouring his genius through all the meanderings of 
 music, was unrivalled in the skill of brooding over the 
 ruder conceptions of our old poets, and in warming them 
 into grace and life. He could glide like dew into the 
 fading bloom of departing song, and refresh it into beauty
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 67 
 
 and fragrance. To this rare and enviable skill we owe 
 the renovation of many songs ; and this was a talent 
 which he possessed in common with many of the nameless 
 bards of Caledonia. It was an nsual practice to ingraft 
 verses upon our ballads and songs, and censure or ap- 
 plause was added or withdra\vn from the heroes of the 
 story, according to the caprice or the attachments of those 
 dispensers of fame, military and domestic. The song 
 ■which praised the valour of a Douglas was, by the tongue 
 of some Northumbrian songster, made to honour the 
 name of Percy; and the ballad of ChevT Chace, in the 
 lips of an Englishman or Scotsman, ascribed the honour 
 of the victory to that side of the Tweed on which the 
 person who sang it stood. A person once made it his 
 boast, in my hearing, that he could sing Johnnie Cope 
 with its nine variations. 
 
 But it is not from the pages of our poets and historians 
 alone that we are made sensible of the loss of many 
 ancient songs. To those who are ^^ell acquainted among 
 the lowland cottages it need not be told, that an even- 
 ing's converse can scarcely go by without some remnant 
 of ancient song being quoted, or some allusion made to 
 others which had been heard in youth, and had failed to 
 reach old age. I have collected many curious scraps in 
 this way, and learned many quaint saws and proverbial 
 savings which have eluded Ramsay and Kelly. A vigil- 
 ant and a skilful collector — one who would enter into 
 the peculiar feelings of a shrewd and a suspicious people, 
 mio'ht find his reward in many curious and instructive 
 things which still linger among our hills and vales. In 
 
 f2
 
 68 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 all the songs which are composed by the peasantry — I 
 mean by people unpractised in the arts of poetical com- 
 position — and in most of those which have descended 
 from the oral times, there is a visible laxity in the 
 rhymes ; no regard has been paid to the pleasure which 
 the eye feels in surveying a succession of couplets with 
 an exact correspondence of rhyme, and the fastidious 
 nicety of Spenser is a thing unknown in northern verse. 
 The rhymes of the more simple days of our ancestors 
 never eame before the eye, and any little irregularity of 
 this kind was surmounted and melted into harmony by 
 a skilful voice. From this defect to the eye, it has been 
 imagined that a song might be composed without the 
 fetters of rhyme ; but the ear demands a similarity of 
 sound, and in the rudest of our lyrical compositions this 
 has not been forgotten ; nor am I sure, if it were un- 
 necessary, that a singer accustomed to expect the recur- 
 rence of equality of sound could dispense with what I 
 caU an useful beauty. It was not till printing brought 
 poetry before the popular eye, as well as ear, that the 
 nice delicacy of rhyme was regarded ; and though we 
 have gained something to the sight, we have won no- 
 thing for the other sense. 
 
 On the very threshold of the Reformation, when the 
 hands of the reforming nudtitude were lifted to knock 
 at our abbey doors, to demand a purer and more simple 
 mode of worship, some of our most exquisite songs were, 
 heard among us for the first time ; and the musical voice 
 of Alexander Scot entered less into the national spirit of 
 son<^ than did that of our gifted and unfortunate James.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS, 69 
 
 tho Fifth. It was perhaps unfortunate for Scot, that his 
 songs were all committed to the custody of pajjer, and 
 more so that the unhappy times in which he wrote pre- 
 vented his productions from laying hold of the public 
 mind to the extent they deserved. Had they been 
 thrown among the multitude, like the earlier lyrics, they 
 would have been softened in their progress, and their 
 uncouth or obsolete words replaced with others more 
 current and melodious. But print or writing has an 
 external air of authority and truth, with which the pro- 
 vincial bards might feel unwilling to meddle, and any 
 changes of the text would be restored by reference to the 
 original work. With an oral song they felt no such 
 scruples ; it came Avithout the sanction of printed autho- 
 rity, and every one attired the orphan in the dress which 
 pleased his fancy. The songs which are ascribed to 
 King James are remarkable for their sprightly gaiety, 
 and seem stamped off by the same hand which gave us 
 that admirable historic painting of rustic life, Christ's 
 Kirk on the Green. No other poet has ever been named 
 as a sharer in the fame which these native productions 
 have brought to Scottish royalty ; and though the poem 
 has been awarded by some good judges to his ancestor, 
 James the First, I think, in comparison with its proto- 
 type, Peblis to the Play, it seems the work of a later 
 age. The latter struck the very note in which the Muse 
 of mirth and humour, from James Stuart to Robert 
 Burns, has continued to sing ; and, as a work presenting 
 the first comic delineation of rustic life and manners, it 
 is invaluable. But in buoyant ease and animation it is
 
 70 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 far excelled by the Christ's Kirk, a poem which, for 
 graphic power, is perhaps yet unequalled. There is such 
 a rapid felicity of expression, such matcliless drollery, 
 and uncontrollable humour, that to resist laughing out- 
 right is positive pain. The keeping, and truth, and 
 A'ariety of the characters, are all in the most natural 
 style; and the words, like those which overflowed on 
 the Muse of Burns, come rattling in their ranks — drop- 
 ping into their proper places, the work of good fortune 
 rather than of study. The royal author was the poet of 
 the commons as well as their king ; and to him and his 
 illustrious ancestor we owe those strains of homely and 
 heart-felt mirth, which have continued to flow through 
 Ramsay, and Ferguson, and Burns, 
 
 I know not if this incomparable performance was 
 current among the people, to A\'hose tastes and feelings it 
 is peculiarly addressed : long poems won their way slowly 
 into common favour, at a time when the press had not 
 added wings to the works of genius. But I remember 
 purchasing it for a penny, with the spirited continuation 
 of Allan Ramsay; and I lament that all those little 
 cheap copies of our favourite works have vanished before 
 the influence of a more fleeting literature. The dis- 
 graceful discomflture at Solway-moss, which hastened 
 the death of the accomplished author, was avenged by 
 many satiric ballads and songs, which imputed corrup- 
 tion to the commanders, and held them up as objects of 
 public hatred and detestation. We have an account of 
 the pain which tliosc compositions gave to the Earl of 
 fxlcncaini, one of the Scottish leaders: none of them are
 
 SCOTTISH S(^NGS. 71 
 
 known to exist ; they fulfilled the wishes of their authors, 
 and then sank into oblivion, like all verses emanating 
 from temporary topics, which have no claim on the 
 ordinary feelings of the human heart. The Earl of 
 Glencairn was himself a poet, and one of the most zealous 
 of the reformers : he wrote some verses, called " The 
 Hermit of Loretto," which Avere popular in days when 
 men opened their lips, for the first time, in safety against 
 the tenets of the ancient church. He sings a true story 
 — of an holy enthusiast and a common cheat, who erected 
 a shrine at Loretto in honour of the Virgin Mary, and 
 set up his own daughter as an image of the mother of 
 Christ. The young woman was of incomparable beauty, 
 and her charms, which were freely displayed to the 
 opulent pilgrims, attracted such crowds of suppliants, 
 that the shrine became rich, and the priest renowned. 
 Such was the subject on which Alexander Cunningham 
 Avrote, and it seems that the earl's rhyme excited no 
 common surprise in John Knox — his wonder almost 
 makes the labour of one, in whom the Presbyterian 
 apostle saw none of the gifts and graces of learning, 
 amount to a miracle. 
 
 I have already mentioned the Complaynt of Scotland, 
 and the notice \\'hich it took of our ancient lyrics : the 
 poem — for I camiot deny the name of poem to a work 
 that is strictly poetical in matter, though not in man- 
 ner — deserves very particular notice, inasmuch as it is 
 one of our earliest specimens of pastoral taste and feel- 
 ing, and gives us the names of many curious romances, 
 now only known by their torn and bleeding members
 
 72 SCOT'J'ISH SONGS. 
 
 scattered up and down, or by the fame which they have 
 left behind them. In the sixth chapter of a work which 
 extends to twenty, the author passed from his study to the 
 green fields, to feel the freshness of the dewy grass, and 
 the odour of the flowers. What he saw is best told in 
 his own words : some passages are omitted, and the or- 
 thography is regulated by the present mode of spelling. 
 " I beheld many hooded shepherds blowing their buck- 
 horns and their corn-pipes, calling and convoying many 
 fat flocks to be fed on the fields ; then the shepherds put 
 their sheep on banks and braes, and on dry hills, to get 
 their pasture. Then I beheld the shepherds' wives and 
 children, that bnuight their morning breakfast to the 
 shepherds. Then, after their disjune, they began to 
 talk of great merriness, that was right pleasant to be 
 heard. The principal shepherd made an orison to all 
 the rest of his companions." This orison is in praise of 
 a pastoral life, and on the wonders of the heavens, tlie 
 thunder, the lightning, and the rain. His wife " ad- 
 monishes" him, as all wives will : " My well-beloved 
 husband, I pray thee to desist from that tedious melan- 
 choly orison which surpasses thy genius, for it is not thy 
 faculty to dispute on a profound matter which thy ca- 
 pacity cannot comprehend. Therefore, I think it best 
 to recreate ourselves with joyous communing. And to 
 begin such recreation, I think it best that every one of 
 ,us tell a good tale or fable, to pass the time till even- 
 ing." All the shepherds, with their wives and servants, 
 were glad of this proposition ; then the oldest shepherd 
 began, and all the rest followed, in their several places.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 73 
 
 The names of the stories and tales which the author 
 lieard are very curious ; the stock of romantic productions, 
 of a Gothic or chissic origin, which our forefathers had 
 to gladden the winter nights, was far from inconsider- 
 able ; some of them are still known and popular, for 
 when will Chaucer and Barbour cease to be known ? but 
 the greater proportion have excited all the pleasure they 
 will ever excite, and the critic may ponder over their 
 names, and the poet imagine the nature of the strain, for 
 memory has long abandoned them to fancy. " The tale 
 of the Wolf of the World's End." " The tale of Fer- 
 rand. Earl of Flanders, who wedded the Devil." " The 
 tale of the Red Giant with three Heads." " The tale 
 of the Giants who ate living Men." " The tale of the 
 three-footed Dog of Noroway." " The tale of the Four 
 Sons of Aymon." " The tale of the Brig of the Man- 
 tribil." " Lancelot de Lac." 
 
 Arthur Knight, he rode one night 
 With gilded spur, and candle light. 
 
 " The tale of Floremond of Albany, Avho slew the Dragon 
 by the Sea." " The tale of Sir Walter the bold Leslie." 
 " The bold Braband," and " The tale of the Three 
 Weird Sisters." Of all these tales, and many others, 
 not one line is left. What a rich treat of romantic ad- 
 venture, and Gothic magnificence and superstition, many 
 of them promise ! I have some suspicion that the tale of 
 the Wolf of the World's End is a misprint for the Well 
 of the World's End — a nursery tale it is true, but one 
 of great beauty. The three-footed Dog of Norway, and
 
 74 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 the Three Weird Sisters, have a wild and unworldly 
 sound; and Sir Walter, the bold Leslie, may be the 
 same who. 
 
 Between the Less-lea and the mair, 
 
 performed an exploit still remembered in tradition. 
 
 " When the shepherds had told all their pleasant 
 stories, then they and their wives began to sing sweet 
 melodious songs of natural music of the antiquite ; the 
 four mermaidens, who sang when Thetis was married on 
 Mount Pelion, sang not so sweet as did those shepherds, 
 who excelled them all in melodious music. The mu- 
 sician, ^vho sang so dulcetly till the stones moved, and 
 the sheep, and cattle, and fowls of the air, lifted their 
 voices to sing with him ; yet nevertheless his harmonious 
 song surpassed not the sweet songs of the foresaid sliep- 
 herds. Now will I rehearse some of the songs which I 
 heard among them." 
 
 The lyrics which these rustics sang in this waking 
 di-eam of Wedderburn or Inglis (for we are not sure to 
 whose fancy we owe it) are supposed to have been po- 
 pular in 1549, when the poem was published. We may 
 conclude, at least, that they were favourites of the 
 author ; and Ave cannot well help surmising, that as they 
 are mentioned in a work of fiction rather than history, 
 some of them may be the invention of the poet. This 
 remark -will extend to those names of songs interwoven 
 in the poems of the James's, and in Gawain Douglas ; 
 and as such references give an air of truth and reality to 
 a work of imagination, I see no reason why we should
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 75 
 
 not ascribe the invention to those jjoets, since we know 
 it has been liberally used in later days. What serves to 
 strengthen this supposition is, that we look in vain 
 through this curious catalogue for our romantic or mili- 
 tary ballads : with the single exception of those which 
 relate to " The Hunt of Cheviot," we have no notice of 
 ballads and songs, which were certainly popular at that 
 period ; and this may be ascribed to two reasons : either 
 that many t)f the songs noticed were the creation of the 
 author, or that his taste directed him more to the choice 
 of those which were coloured with classic lore, and were 
 swelled with the names of Nymphs and Fauns, and Pan 
 and Apollo, and the " IMuses nine." It seems indeed 
 probable, from the strong infusion of classic reference 
 and story into his list of tales, and the other parts of his 
 Avork, that he laughed at the rude but graphic strains of 
 our natiA^e lyrics, and refused to be moved with the 
 multitude at the chanting of Johnie Armstrong, or the 
 Tale of True Thomas. It must be confessed, however, 
 that many of those songs commence with lines of a very 
 natural and simple sound ; and we cannot suppose that 
 lyrics beginning with " Still under the leaves green," 
 " Cou thou me the rashes green," " Broom, broom 
 on hill," " Turn thy sweet will to me," " My love's 
 lying ill, send him joy, send him joy," could readily 
 deviate into a less natural strain than that with which 
 they started. If the author was too prone to — 
 
 Lay his lugs in Pindus' spring. 
 And invocate Ajwllo,
 
 76 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 he sinned in common with many better and more ori- 
 ginal spirits. 
 
 In seeking to clioose a song to express the character 
 of our lyrics at this period, I am desirous of selecting 
 " The Lusty May ;" because it unites classical allusion 
 with natural emotion, and is either a specimen of Wed- 
 derburn's taste, or a proof of his genius for such com- 
 positions, since it has much of his pastoral and descriptive 
 spirit, and may be his own. 
 
 THE LUSTIE MA YE. 
 
 O lustie Maye, with Flora queen. 
 The balmy drops, from Phoebus sheen, 
 Prelucent beam before the day ; 
 By thee Diana groweth green. 
 Through gladness of this lustie Maye. 
 
 Then Aurora, that is so bright 
 
 To woeful hearts, she casts great light, 
 
 Right pleasantly, before the day. 
 
 And shows and sheds forth of that litrht, 
 
 Through gladness of this lustie Maye. 
 
 Birds on their boughs, when buds have birth. 
 Send forth their notes, and make great mirth. 
 On banks that bloom, on every brae ; 
 And fare and flee o'er fauld and firth. 
 Through gladness of this lustie Maye. 
 
 And lovers all that are in care, 
 To their ladies they do repair.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 77 
 
 In fresli mornings before tlie day ; 
 And are in mirth, ay mair and mair. 
 Through gladness of this lustie Maye. 
 
 Of all the sweet months of the year. 
 To mirthful Maye there is no peer. 
 Her glistering garments afe so gay. 
 You lovers all make merry cheer. 
 Through gladness of this lustie Maye. 
 
 The spirit of love and chivalry was breathed very deeply 
 over much of the poetry of this period ; and though it is 
 time to leave the shreds of antique songs, and relics of 
 romance, and attend to the Reformation, which changed 
 for a time the tone of our lyrics, and finally succeeded in 
 impressing them with a purer character, I cannot resist 
 the temptation of quoting Lindsay's description of the 
 rich dress of the Lady of Carrickfergus, rescued by 
 Squire Meldrum. It might be inserted in one of 
 Chaucer's tales, or introduced into one of our best ro- 
 mances, it has so much of the true old Gothic richness 
 about it. 
 
 Ane fairer woman than she was, 
 He had not seen in onie place. 
 1 ler kirtle was of scarlet red. 
 Of gold ane garlond on her head, 
 Decorit with enamelyne ; 
 Belt and brooches of silver fyne. 
 Of yelloAV taftais was her sark, 
 Begaryit all with broidered work ;
 
 78 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Right craftelie with gold and silk : 
 Then said that ladye white as milk. 
 
 The compliments which old Arbuthnot pays to female 
 wit and beauty are worthy of any age, and with them I 
 shall bid farewell to the poets of that time. 
 
 The properties perpend 
 
 Of every worldly wight, 
 Sae comely nane are kend. 
 
 As is a ladye bright. 
 Plesand in bed, lowesome and red, 
 
 Ane dainty day and night, 
 Ane halesume thing — ane hearts likinge, 
 
 Gif men would rule them right. 
 
 When God made all of nought, 
 
 He did this weel declare. 
 The last thing that he ^vrought, 
 
 It was ane woman fair. 
 In workes we see, the last to be, 
 
 Maist plesand and preclair, 
 Ane help to man God made her than. 
 What will ye I say mair ? 
 There is nothing new beneath the sun. Burns must be 
 content to share, with the grave Reformer and Principal 
 of Aberdeen College, the fame of the happiest praise ever 
 lavished on woman. 
 
 Auld nature swears, the lovely dears 
 
 Her noblest work she classes ; 
 Her prentice han' she tried on man. 
 And then she made the lasses.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 79 
 
 Devout men have not scrupled to ascribe to song much 
 of the success of the Reformation ; and there can be no 
 doubt that the ironical lyrics, in praise of its modesty 
 and purity, and the satiric songs, in open contempt and 
 scorn of the idle ceremonies, and indecorous pretensions 
 to miraculous gifts of the ministers of the ancient clnirch, 
 had a powerful influence over the public mind. When 
 Knox advanced to demolish the whole structure, and 
 Glencairn to break the hosts of saints in stone and metal, 
 the former found the corner-stones already loosened by a 
 profoner power than his own ; and the earl, as ho laid 
 the merciless hammer of reform upon the other, found 
 that a sti'onger spirit had been there before him, dis- 
 pelling the charm of sanctity, and reducing the deified 
 pieces of metal and stone to their ordinary and proper 
 value. But songs have shared in all commotions and 
 revolutions — they are the ready weapons of the learned 
 and the rude — they have fought for the kirk, and they 
 have fought against her — they have been made into the 
 watchword and the war-cry of parties ; a meaning beyond 
 the meaning of their authors has been imputed to them ; 
 and we know they ha^^e had an effect which makes men 
 marvel, who peruse those wonder-working rhymes, Avhen 
 time has sobered down the passions. We have seen 
 how easily a republican song moved men, at a pe- 
 riod when all minds were easily moved — the French 
 revolution: — and we have also seen and heard, in a later 
 day, the heroic welcome of the Bruce of Bannockburn, 
 degraded from its office of inspiring sentiments of manly 
 freedom and devotion in defence of oiu" native land, into
 
 80 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 tlie instrument of an illiterate faction of the meanest of 
 mankind. But lyric poets have sung in favour of liberty, 
 and they have sung against it ; and the only honest 
 songster I ever heard of was Skirving, who wrote " The 
 Chevalier being void of fear :" for he laughed, and laughed 
 loudly, at Jacobites and Georgites ; and he got the re- 
 ward of all men of the like ungainly integrity ; he Avas 
 plundered by the one, and in danger of being shot by 
 the other. 
 
 We may learn from many sources that the mass of 
 song which \va^ popular before the Reformation had 
 much grossness amid its animation, and indulged in 
 sensual images, and spoke in a strain more familiar than 
 virtue wished. The songs at which our ancestors smiled 
 or laughed outright Avould cover their descendants with 
 blushes ; and the gentle hand of reform was as much 
 wanted for our poetry as for our church, to render it fit 
 to live in a more fastidious and critical, though not 
 more virtuous age. It would be unjust to pretend that 
 this age has more virtue, and unwise to suppose that it 
 has a better taste, tlian the age which produced some of 
 our brightest spirits. The songs which our great-grand- 
 mothers sang, we may suppose, gave them delight ; and 
 we are not to imagine that their delight came from a 
 source less pure than our OAvn. They were a simple^ 
 people, who had not learned the art of attiring sensuality 
 in a dainty dress, nor had they found it necessary to live 
 like us in " decencies for ever." Yet I am no admirer 
 of that primitive mode of expression which speaks bluntly 
 out the hopes and wishes of the heart, nor am I sure-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 81 
 
 that this direct and undisguised style is half so mis- 
 chievous to innocence and youth as those strains which, 
 like the angler's hook, hide tlieir sting among painted 
 plumes. It was a more honest method of wickedness, at 
 Jeast, and strewed no flowers over the snake which lay 
 in watch for beauty. If our ancestors dispensed with 
 an accurate and blameless style, we have not heard that 
 they were ashamed of what we esteem to be indecor- 
 ous ; and the very freedom and fearlessness with which 
 they wrote led them into aggressions against propriety 
 which education and good sense will always observe. If 
 the Reformation found our lyrics lewd or profane, it 
 soon chastised or admonished them into a dulness which 
 became doubly ludicrous, from the motley garb of irre- 
 verence and holiness which they were made to assume in 
 the cause of the church. 
 
 I am half afraid to make the assertion, but the history 
 of the decline and downfal of popery in other countries 
 as well as Scotland will support me, that much of this 
 leprosy of licentiousness which infected our poetry was 
 caught when the Muse was doing the work of reform ; 
 nay, that it was caught in the very service of the re- 
 forming church. When the Muse first commenced her 
 attack on the infirmities of the monks and nuns, she 
 sharpened her satire, by contrasting the external holiness 
 of their establishments with the internal indulgence 
 and sensuality — the coldness without, with the warmth 
 within— their imaginary abstinence with tlieir real glut- 
 tony — and their pure looks and humble doctrine with 
 their luxurious beds and unchaste intercourse. As early 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 82 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 as tlie days of Boccaccio, the licentiousness of the monks, 
 and their tricks in the invention of profitable and curious 
 relics, are made the themes of some of his unequalled 
 tales ; and Chaucer, before he was suspected of heresy, 
 had obtained a sitting or tAvo from some of the laxer 
 members of the English church. The same spirit seems 
 to have been loose for a long time-in Scotland. Some- 
 times it is sly, insinuating, and ironical ; at other times, 
 it speaks frankly and familiarly out, and appears to pride 
 itself in the simple way of going to work recommended 
 by Burton — to call a spade a spade. One favourite 
 theme, on Avhich grave wit, as well as irony and humour, 
 Avas employed, was auricular confession. A monk is 
 described, in those satiric strains, round and smooth, 
 and, like the indolent voluptuary of the poet, with " a 
 roguish twinkle in his eye," listening in the solitude of 
 his cell to a fair and simple maiden relating the wan- 
 derings of her heart; — or hearkening to the story of a less 
 discreet, but no less desirable dame, resolved to take 
 advantage of the influence which confession gave him. 
 The indelicacy of his questions, the naivete of the an- 
 swers, and the pleasing penance which he imposed upon 
 his fair transgressors, form altogether a very curious, 
 but indecorous, dramatic scene. It would require some 
 time, and some discretion of language, to describe the 
 poems and songs, which, for a long while before the 
 outburst of the Reformation, rendered the Catholic 
 clergy odious in the eyes of the people — Avhich left their 
 processions without spectators, and their solemn masses 
 without congregations. And it must be confes.sed that
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 8.') 
 
 satire and truth went hand in hand ; for the conffreg-a- 
 tions did not depart till they could no longer with de- 
 cency stay : if any think the multitude were too sensi- 
 tive, let me remind them of the opinion of the provin- 
 cial council of the Catholic church in 1549, which im- 
 puted heresy " to the corruption and profane lewdness of 
 the clergy of almost every degree, and to their gross 
 ignorance in all arts and sciences." Yet, with an in- 
 consistency, which those who know human nature well 
 may explain, they prohibited poems and songs that charg- 
 ed them with no immoralities more heinous than those of 
 which they accused themselves, andthreatenedthc authors 
 and possessors of them with the vengeance of the church. 
 But this conquest, so glorious to the INIuse and to 
 mankind, was not achieved without pain and loss. The 
 Muse had revelled so long amid scenes of luxurious 
 grossness, that she was unable or unwilling to return to 
 purity, when a purer song was desired. The company 
 of " Ladye Sensualitye," and conversation with the 
 " Seven deadlye Sinnes," had proved too strong for her 
 morals. If the persons Avhom she so largely endowed 
 with licentious speech were destitute of flesh and blood, 
 and cold and allegorical, their language was the lan- 
 guage of nature, and their words were too seductive to 
 be resisted — even by those who were admonished by 
 " Ladye Chastitie" and her sedate companion, " Gude 
 Counsaill." For some time after the commencement of 
 the Reformation, I can find no songs which display great 
 symptoms of repentance. The Muse was long in return- 
 ing to Ynodesty of thought and decency of expression : 
 
 g2
 
 84 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 her services in the cause of religion were soon forgotten ; 
 her succours, though timely and perhaps effectual, came 
 from a profane source ; and the stern and anxious spi- 
 rits who had perfected the work of Reformation were 
 ashamed of the graceless Aveapons which had shared with 
 them in the honour of vanquishing Antichrist. If poesy, 
 however, was tardy in repentance, and slow in veiling 
 immodesty of thought under more seductive decency of 
 expression, it must be confessed she had leisure allowed 
 to become virtuous ; for the fathers of the reformed kirk 
 of Scotland were less scrupulous in matters of poesy 
 and amusement than their immediate successors or de- 
 scendants. 
 
 When the clergy of the Catholic church permitted or 
 encouraged the representation of plays, religious or li- 
 centious, on holidays, and on the Sabbath itself, they 
 seemed not to be over-scrupulous in the selection of sub- 
 jects. The legend of a saint, an exploit of chivalry, an 
 outlaw's den, a story of neighbouring scandal, or a por- 
 tion of gospel history, afforded in succession amusement, 
 and sometimes perhaps instruction, to the motley au- 
 dience. Robin Hood in Kendal green, with Maid Ma- 
 rian in her Lincoln kirtle, were followed by Adam and 
 Eve naked, and unashamed as when fresh from Heaven's 
 hand, and discoursing before ladies and lords about their 
 state of innocence. It has been said that such spectacles 
 exhibited the simplicity rather than the libertinism of 
 the age, and that a prudish imagination is much easier 
 alarmed than artless and unsuspecting innocence. But 
 that innocence must have been of a very primitive kind
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 85 
 
 indeed that could feel no shame at such indecorous re- 
 presentations as this ; and at a period when enthusiasm 
 was as fervent, and innocence as common, tliose spec- 
 tacles were expressly forbidden, and am])le draperies, or 
 garments of leaves, were interposed between the audience 
 and those primitive ladies, those sensual allegories, which 
 were summoned to the amusement of the multitude. 
 The Reformation had been established, and the ancient 
 \\'orship overthrown, for a number of years, before the 
 kirk of Scotland interfered Avith the representation of 
 loose plays and curious moralities. The earliest care of 
 the kirk extended no farther than to prevent the acting of 
 plays upon the Sabbath day, and to direct the dramatic 
 genius of the times, such as it was, to profaner subjects 
 than scripture : this was in 1574. Two years afterwards, 
 the assembly of the kirk refused permission " to the 
 Bailie of Dumfermline to play on the Sunday afternoon 
 a certain play which was not made upon the canonical 
 parts of Scripture ;" and in 1577> they beseeched the 
 Regent, " that his grace Avould discharge the plays of 
 liobin Hood, King of May, and such others, on the Sab- 
 bath day." Nor is there less moderation in the query of 
 the synod concerning the punishment of perscms who 
 after admonition from the kirk frequented "]\Iayplayes," 
 more especially ciders and deacons, and others who bore 
 offices in the kirk. There is nothing either fanatical or 
 austere in the ansAver, " They ought not to be admitted 
 to the sacraments without satisfaction, in especial elders 
 and deacons." The word satisfaction concealed perhaps 
 a greater severity of discipline, and extent of rebuke,
 
 86 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 than we associate with the word now; but it has 
 a gentle sound in modern ears, and we may say Avith 
 the poet, that such strictness was wholesome in the 
 main. 
 
 In the ocean of trouble which overwhelmed Scotland 
 much of her ancient spirit was lost, the chivalry of her 
 nobility was nearly extinguished, her sovereign was 
 against her or in bonds, and in the honourable desire of 
 spiritual liberty she nearly became dependent on Eng- 
 land. That she retained her independence, we may 
 thank the rising spirit of her peasantry more than the 
 honesty or the valour of her nobles. The time was at 
 hand when the common people of Scotland, escaping 
 from spiritual and personal vassalage, were to assert 
 with success and honour their rights and immunities, 
 and lay the foundation of their present character for in- 
 telligence, industry, and literature. But the convulsions 
 of church and state were more favourable to independ- 
 ence, which is always produced in a storm, than to 
 the growth of poetry, which is more the offspring of 
 peace and domestic tranquillity. There can be no doubt, 
 as the love of song is natural to the heart, that it was 
 still dear to the people, but poesy languished beneath 
 the austere or morose enthusiasm of some of our fondest 
 reformers ; and as many of our voluntary minstrels were 
 silenced from a sense of the unholiness of rhyme, or from 
 the admonitions of the kirk, minstrelsy became less po- 
 pular than formerly. A severe and self-denying spirit 
 was communicated to the majority of the people, and 
 the Muse of simple and innocent song became wholly
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 87 
 
 mute, (tr brciitluid in secret her sweet and unwelcume 
 strain. 
 
 Some of the pastors, who assisted in forming the pri- 
 mitive kirk, have been described as expressing reluct- 
 ance in rebuking or in silencing an art, once a national 
 and domestic enjoyment, and still dear from a thousand 
 associations. They might feel afraid, that instead of 
 hiding its light in the dark lantern of a learned lan- 
 guage, or wasting its sweetness on cold and intractable 
 religious allegories, the spirit of poesy would seek a pro- 
 faner road to distinction — and if they thought so, it 
 would seem they were not mistaken. The IMuse, learned 
 as well as rustic, seemed willing to divorce herself from 
 all alliance with the kirk, and was anxious to regain her 
 former influence over the mind of the multitude ; and 
 she made the attempt in strains equally pithy, sar- 
 castic, and indecorous, as those with which, in her more 
 popular days, she had braved and alarmed the church of 
 Rome. In addressing herself to those who silenced the 
 minstrel's instrument, and the poet's voice, she repre- 
 sents the interference of the elders and ministers in the 
 domestic management of families as equalling auricular 
 confession ; she paints them with eyes which knew no 
 tears, with hearts of stone, and features of iron. Nor 
 did she confine herself wholly to satiric song : she re- 
 membered how deeply her dramatic attempts affected 
 the church of Rome, and she tried the same sharp 
 weapon ; but she tried it with a feebler hand, and upon 
 a less vulnerable body. If I may measure the grossness 
 or the wit of those attempts by a dramatic song which
 
 88 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 I recovered from tradition^ I can imagine that they 
 fairly rivalled the productions with which the ancient 
 church was assailed, in impurity and humour. It is the 
 confession of a sensual sinner before the kirk session, 
 and the minister and his elders are ridiculed by the 
 transgressor, as he gives " satisfaction," in a way singu- 
 larly keen and pointed. I have been present when it 
 was acted as a kind of interlude at a wedding. The 
 rustic who performed it came in attired in sackcloth from 
 neck to heel, a leathern belt girded his middle, while 
 a quantity of long flax, falling over his temples from 
 under a slouched hat, made him resemble the man in 
 " Rome's Legacy to the Kirk of Scotland." The gray 
 head of the transgressor, and the youthfulness of the sin, 
 his ludicrous song, and still more ludicrous acting, the 
 imaginary audience of grave ministers of religion, and the 
 real audience of shepherds and ploughmen, who, like 
 the humble hero of the song, were 
 
 Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, 
 
 formed a scene well worthy of laughter. This descrip- 
 tion may recall to some of my south border friends the 
 witty but irreverend ballad of " Auld Glenae." 
 
 The kirk, it woidd appear, hearkened at first to those 
 scoffing and indecorous strains with carelessness or con- 
 tempt. It was too surely founded in the feelings of the 
 })eople to be easily shaken by the idle song of a vagrant 
 minstrel ; and perhaps the professors hoped that neglect 
 might crush the folly of verse more effectually than kirk 
 censure. But cither the Muse became more insolent, or
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 89 
 
 the j)rcachcrs less patient ; or probably forsaking the 
 courtesy of general satire, she lifted her voice against 
 them by name, or lent her aid to swell the clamour of 
 disturbance or rebellion. We have the authority of John 
 Knox for relating that one Wilson, who neither could 
 read the Ne^v Testament nor the Old, made a despiteful 
 railing ballad against the preachers, for which he nar- 
 rowly escaped hanging. The reformed kirk might be 
 more pure than the Catholic churcli, but it was scarcely 
 more meek in its prosperity ; in times such as those the 
 passions of men were up and iuHamed : French cunning 
 and English force — the ferocity of the old religion, and 
 the fury of the new, made justice rare, and mercy scarce. 
 In such tumultuous days, it is with much pleasure that 
 I find one honest man, who had the boldness to sing a 
 song creditable to a patriotic heart. When the " Con- 
 gregation of the Lord," reinforced by the English army, 
 opposed the army of the Queen Regent, in which was a 
 considerable body of French commanded by Count de 
 INIartigues, and some severe skirmishes happened at 
 Leith, a song, of which the following is an extract, was 
 made and sung — I hope it had a response in many a 
 Scottish bosom. 
 
 I have nae will to sing or dance, 
 For fear of England or of France, 
 God send them sorrow and mischance, 
 
 Is cause of their coming. 
 We are sac rewlit, rich and poor, 
 That we Avot not where to be sure,
 
 90 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 The border as the burrow-moor. 
 Where some perchance will hing. 
 
 And yet I think it best that we 
 
 Pluck up our hearts and merry be. 
 
 For though we would lie down and die. 
 It Avill help us nae thing. 
 
 An attempt of a more charitable kind was soon made 
 to humble prt>fane minstrelsy, and minstrelsy never stood 
 in greater need of purification. As the kirk increased in 
 austerity, the songs increased in licentiousness, and grew 
 so grievously IcAvd, that pious persons imagined them to 
 be rather the creations of the devil than the musings 
 of man. Nay, in one instance, Belzebub was heard to 
 chant one of his most graceless strains amid a conclave 
 of witches ; and with such wicked speed did this in- 
 fernal lyric fly over the land, that scarcely two days 
 elapsed ere all the young men and young women were 
 singing it. Either the kirk had laboured to little pur- 
 pose in lessening sin and in cultivating morality, or this 
 supernatural song had a charm A\hich a poet would 
 gladly learn— that of catching and keeping attention. 
 To go to a contest Avitli the powers of darkness corre- 
 sponded with the character of those times ; and tradition 
 makes a professor of religion array himself, and march 
 to dubious warfare with a wicked spirit, in the same 
 manner that a knight of old, with a spear in his hand, 
 and his lady's glove in his helmet, rode to the encounter 
 of a dragon or a sorcerer. In entering into competition 
 in song with the powers of darkness or ungodliness, the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 91 
 
 kirk had a twofold object — it would vanquish a dan- 
 gerous, or at least a troublesome foe, and imjiress a cha- 
 racter of decorum and religion on the popular lyrics of 
 the land. For this purpose one or more of the inspired 
 reformers undertook the singular and perilous task of 
 enlisting profane airs into the service of religion, by 
 uniting them to poetry of a purer and more devotional 
 kind. The idea was excellent and practicable, but the 
 way in which it was executed was absurd and ludicrous ; 
 the lyric powers of the preachers were unequal to their 
 curious and important task — their songs were grave mo- 
 ralities, and their ballads dull sermons. 
 
 The wishes of the kirk were honestly set forth at the 
 front of the work, and the title may help us to imagine 
 the lyric cheer which was provided by Wedderburn for 
 the youths and maidens of Scotland, in the year 1560. 
 " Ane compendius Book of godly and spiritual Songs, 
 collected out of sundrie parts of the scripture, with sun- 
 drie of other ballads changed out of profane songs, for 
 avoiding of sin and harlotrey, with augmentation of sun- 
 drie good and godly ballads, not contained in the first 
 edition." The prologue farther intimates the original 
 j)urpose of the work, and it would seem when it first 
 ap])eared that the reformation was incomplete. It was 
 dedicated to the use of " Young persons, and such as 
 are not exercised in scripture, who will sooner conceive 
 the true word than when they hear it sung in Latin, 
 which they understand not. But when they hear it 
 sung, or sing it themselves in their native tongue, with 
 sweet melody, then shall they love their God, and put
 
 92 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 away bawdry and unclean songs." In the same spirit, and 
 in continuation of the same warfare against unclean or 
 profane song, William Geddes, minister of Wick, wrote 
 the " Saint's Recreation," in 1683, a collection of spi- 
 ritual songs, " suited," says the author, " to grave, 
 sweet, and melodious tunes." He is as dull in spiritual 
 song as any of his predecessors ; yet he says some curious 
 things in his preface, wliich assist us in estimating the 
 character of our ancient lyrics. He supposes one of his 
 readers to insinuate that some of these airs or tunes were 
 popularly sung to " amorous sonnets ;" and to this he 
 answers, first, that he imitates certain pious and zealous 
 divines, who to good purpose composed godly songs to 
 profane airs, such as " The bonnie broom," " I'll never 
 leave thee," and "We '11 all go pu' the heather." " And, 
 secondly," says the divine, " it is alleged by some, and 
 not without some colour of reason, that many of our airs 
 or tunes are made by good angels, but the letter or lines 
 of our songs by devils. We choose the part angelical, 
 and leave the diabolical." Of these celestial lyrics, 
 which were to interpose between the powers of darkness 
 and their prey, and overthrow their poetical empire in 
 the north, it is proper to give some account. 
 
 To substitute devout and religious songs in place of 
 the witty, or profane, or pathetic verses, some of which 
 were coeval with their airs, and all popular, required a 
 poetic gift, which has been conferred on few, and a taste 
 and tact akin to inspiration. No such powers were 
 confided to our kirk minstrels — lyric poesy refused to 
 appear under the kirk banners, und the reformation of
 
 SCOTTISH S()N(;S. 93 
 
 verse was fonnrl more laborious than the overtlirow of 
 popery. Amid all the unavailing attempts of the "gude 
 and godly ballates" of Wedderburn to fan the fires of 
 devotion into a brighter flame than those of worldly love, 
 there is nothing which warms or elevates. In these re- 
 ligious parodies of profane song, the original purpose of 
 the verse is never forgotten — the original meaning is 
 never wholly subdued— there is still as much of the 
 graceless old as enables it to prevail against the devout 
 new. The efl^ect of this kind of spiritualized sensuality 
 upon ordinary and simple minds must have been in- 
 structive and curious. Acquainted as they were with 
 the sensible and intelligible images of the profane song, 
 can we think they would labour much to understand 
 the allegorical instruction of the spiritual.? To hear 
 religion indulging in the current language of literal love 
 with some fiiir maiden, trysting her out to a stolen and 
 a twilight interview, and praising the darkness of her 
 eyes, the beauty of her locks, and the ripeness of her 
 lips, was far less likely to excite an ardour for the kirk 
 than for the fair dames who frequented it. The pea- 
 santry to whom these devout meditations were more 
 particularly addressed were somewhat dull in com- 
 prehending allegory, and unversed in the new art of 
 spiritualization ; and it was as easy, and perhaps more 
 agreeable, to accept the joys which the song expressed 
 in a literal way. From the religious songs of that and 
 the succeeding ages, which live more in our curiosity 
 than our esteem, I will endeavour to select some speci- 
 mens.
 
 94 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Tliat many of the songs, which the kirk lyrics were 
 composed to supplant, abounded in lascivious wit and 
 gross humour, we have satisfactory evidence ; but I am 
 far from sure that the sedate poet was always successful 
 in supplying a purer and a better strain. The young 
 and the joyous, who were alive to the power of associa- 
 tion when they sung the following song, must have been 
 possessed with presbyterianism beyond all example, if 
 it failed to present to their minds any images but 
 those of love and enjoyment. I may remark that the 
 paraphrase is far too close : the new usurps the rhyme 
 of the old ; the lascivious dress is worn ; and though the 
 meaning is free from reproach, the sounds of the grace- 
 less and the good are so much alike as to deceive a care- 
 less listener — we know not which is devil, which is saint. 
 
 Who is at my window, who, who ? 
 Go from my window, go, go. 
 Who calls there so like a stranger ? 
 Go from my window, go, go. 
 
 Man, I gave thee not free will, 
 That thou should my gospel spill : 
 Thou does nae gude, but ever ill. 
 Therefore from my door thou go. 
 
 That will, alas ! has me beguiled. 
 That will sae far has me defiled. 
 That will thy presence has me exiled. 
 In at thy door let me go.
 
 SCOTTISH SON(iS. 95 
 
 To blume that will thou does not riffht, 
 I gave thee reason whereby thou might 
 Have known the day from the dark night 
 In at my door to go. 
 
 And were it fit to do again, 
 Rather as thou should lie in pain, 
 I Avould suffer mair in certaine. 
 That in at my door thou may go. 
 
 I ask nae thing of thee therefore. 
 But love for love to lie in store ; 
 Give me thy heart, I ask no more, 
 And in at my door thou shalt go. 
 
 Who is at my window, who, who ? 
 Go from my window^ go, go. 
 Cry no more there like a stranger. 
 But in at my door thou go. 
 
 The first and last verses of this half spiritual and half 
 amorous ditty are old; the dramatic cast of the lascivious 
 song is imitated, and the importunate language of the 
 lover and the yielding resolution of the lady are not 
 concealed under a very thick veil of allegory. Nor is 
 there better skill or greater delicacy in the attempt to 
 reclaim another of these popular ditties : the gross and 
 literal chorus, by the frequency of its recurrence, seems 
 capable of poisoning the divinest verse ; and here the
 
 9G SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 body of the song assists in strengthening the lewd senti- 
 ment of the old ditty, rather than in lessening it. 
 
 John, come kiss me now, 
 John, come kiss me now, 
 John, come kiss me by and by. 
 And make nae mair ado. 
 
 The Lord thy God I am. 
 That John does thee call : 
 John represents man 
 By grace celestial. 
 
 Fot John, Goddis grace it is. 
 Who list till expone the same : 
 O John, thou did amiss 
 When that thou lost this name. 
 
 iMy prophets call, my preachers cry 
 John, come kiss me noAv, 
 John, come kiss me by and by. 
 And make nae mair ado. 
 
 I know not where to find such a specimen of gross ex- 
 pression and devout meaning, mixed up with an attempt 
 so singularly clumsy and unhappy, to expound an in- 
 tractable allegory. In hearing this half converted lyric 
 sung, the listener would be more apt to think of the sins 
 from which it was meet he should be warned than of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 97 
 
 the graver joys to wliicli tlie reformed strain now sought 
 to call him. To those who loved, and they must have 
 been many, the old song of 
 
 He's low down, amang the broom. 
 That's waiting for me, 
 
 the new language which the pious poet caused it to utter 
 would have a strange sound and a mixed meaning : 
 
 My love mourns for me, for me. 
 My love that mourns for me ; 
 
 I am not kind, he's not in mind, 
 My love that mourns for me. 
 
 Though purified in the religious crucible, and stamped 
 afresh in new language, and with a different meaning, 
 such is the influence of association, that we still imagine 
 we hear the interdicted strain ; and we cannot help seeing 
 the forbidden scenes of the old song rising before us. In 
 such hands the profane airs of Scotland must have proved 
 a ver\' dubious auxiliary in the cause of purity and truth ; 
 and when religion called so anxiously for the aid of the 
 lyric ]\Iuse, it is a reproach to the age that her call 
 brought out no better and more inspired spirit than 
 Wedderburn. Perhaps no period in our history pre- 
 sented such an opportunity to a poet of acquiring lasting 
 renown. A purer and a nobler strain Avould have been 
 welcomed by the professors of religion, and by the com- 
 munity at large : an age that could tolerate or applaud 
 
 VOL.. I. H
 
 98 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 the rude and fanatic verses of tlie kirk minstrels was 
 avaricious of poetry. 
 
 But if the authors of these spiritual songs failed in 
 overcoming the popularity of the unclean verses — if they 
 did not wholly succeed in making the tongue of devotion 
 talk more sweetly than the lips of worldly love — if they 
 rendered the spiritual conversation between '•' the flesche" 
 and " the spirit" the dullest of all controversies^, they 
 did not altogether fail in their \vish to overwhelm with 
 scorn and loathing the contemporary church of Rome. 
 The spirits of the age had been disciplined more for this 
 sharp and perilous work than 
 
 For capering nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
 To the lascivious pleasing of a lute, 
 
 or even freezing woman into a spiritual allegory for the 
 edification of the multitude. But in the contempt for 
 masses, crosses, confessions, beads, and pastoral crooks, 
 they sometimes forgot they were singing for the improve- 
 ment of poesie ; and in their descriptions of the scarlet 
 lady and her monks and hand-maidens, they neglected 
 the morality of their flocks. It is hard to disbelieve an 
 author's own averment ; but when he says he is singing 
 a devout ballad, he is only entitled to belief if his strain 
 correspond with his assertion : and it is scarcely credible 
 that a work dedicated to delicacy and holiness could re- 
 lapse into descriptions worthy of the lax minstrels whose 
 lewd songs were so properly condemned ; yet I know not 
 where to seek for scenes of greater lasciviousness than
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 99 
 
 some of these spiritual ballads contain^ and in passages 
 too where there is no desire to hide the meaning under the 
 thick or transparent veil of metaphor or allegory. Those 
 who think me severe, and who are unacquainted with 
 the slumbering songs of our ancestors, I may refer to a 
 very lively but a very lewd ballad, of which the following 
 is rather a modest sjiecinion. 
 
 The Sisters gray, before this day. 
 
 Did croon within their closter ; 
 They feed ane Freir tlieir keys to bear. 
 
 The fiend receive the foster. 
 Syne in the mirk he weill could wirk, 
 
 And kittle them wantonlie : 
 Haye trix ! trim go trix 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. 
 
 I might also refer them to others equally indelicate. In 
 their love of exposing impurities they forgot that their 
 exordium was holiness and chastity, and that they had 
 undertaken to compose songs which men could sing 
 without shame, and women without blushing. Their 
 satire was coarse, vigorous, and effectual ; and they had 
 some skill in exposing the infirmities of the friars and 
 nuus : yet I am not certain that Wedderburn ever sang 
 aught so sharp as John Wicklifife said two hundred 
 years before. " The priests don hot well their godlv 
 office, but live in covetousness and gluttony, drunken- 
 ness and lechery, with fair horse and jolly and gay 
 
 h2
 
 100 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 saddles and bridles ringing by the way, and themselves 
 in costly cloths and pelure, while their poor neighbours 
 perish for hunger and cold." — Wedderburn has some- 
 times aspired to equal the animated pictures of our great 
 reformers, and he gives the church of Rome some " Apo- 
 stolic blows and knocks." 
 
 Sum make gods of sticks and stanes. 
 Sum make gods of sainctis banes. 
 
 There is considerable freedom and strength in the ballad 
 in derision of mass ; and the following allusion to the 
 great point of human controversy, the real presence, may 
 seem blasphemy to some, and sharp good wit to others. 
 
 Gif God was made of bits of bread, , 
 
 Eat ye not weekly sax or seven. 
 As it had been ane mortal feed. 
 
 While ye had almost berried heaven ? 
 Als monie devils ye maun devour 
 
 Till hell grows less. 
 Or doubtless we daur not restore 
 
 You to your mess. 
 Gif God be transubstantiall 
 
 In bread, with hoc est corpus meum. 
 Why are ye so unnatural 
 
 As take him in your teeth and slay him ? 
 
 There is some happiness of personification in the fol- 
 lowing verse, and those with mitres on their heads, and
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 101 
 
 those with mitres in their heads, would do well to read 
 it and think of it. 
 
 Ye parted with dame Poverty, 
 
 Took Property to be your wife ; 
 From Charity and Chastity, 
 
 With Lechery ye led your life ; 
 Which raised the mother of mischief. 
 
 Your greediness. 
 Believing aye to get relief 
 For saying mess. 
 
 Before I take farewell of these spiritual allegories and 
 lyrical satires, and seek out the Muse of Song when she 
 had escaped from the impurities of one church and the 
 injustice of another, and resumed her own sweet and 
 natural and unbidden strain, let me say something of the 
 new impulse which the Reformation gave to genius, and 
 the change which it wrought in the beliefs and the joys 
 and the feelings of our ancestors. The wild and variable 
 fictions of romance ; the legends of the church swollen 
 into interminable histories of miracles and wonders which 
 prayer and mortification had wrought ; and the repre- 
 sentation of dramatic stories, where satyrs, and devils, 
 and angels, and souls of men, were called up for the in- 
 struction or the laughter of the audience, all vanished 
 away before a religion which limited its belief to things 
 recorded only in holy writ. The world, indeed, might 
 well be weary of the eternal monotony of romances and 
 spiritual legends, and sensual moralities; and to free
 
 102 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 itself from their incumbrance, and seek for instruction 
 and rational amusement, required an effort such as Scot- 
 land made when she threw down the splendid fabrics 
 which vanity, or superstition, or repentance, had been 
 so long in rearing, and discharged the flocks of friars and 
 religious devotees from the luxury of soft and agreeable 
 penance, the dreams of indolence, the monotony of idle 
 processions and barren ceremonies, and the pleasure of 
 holding the peojjle in subjection and the princes in awe. 
 But Scotland was not allowed to reap the harvest which 
 she sowed; wars followed on wars, struggle succeeded 
 struggle for civil or religious liberty ; and her long con- 
 tention with the churches of Rome and England stamped 
 an outward sternness upon her which was long in being 
 softened. We are not, however, to estimate the influence 
 which the Reformation had upon the Scottish mind and 
 upon Scottish song by the spiritual ditties of the divines, 
 nor by the contentious sermons and controversial histo- 
 ries of the elder worthies of the kirk. There were other 
 and gentler spirits, who, escaping from the bitterness of 
 party rancour, sought to expatiate in secret upon meek, 
 and rural, and domestic things ; and, in the midst of 
 sore trials and national calamity, gave an example of 
 purity of sentiment, tenderness of heart, and richness 
 of fancy, worthy of better times and a higher fame. I 
 allude to the poems of Alexander Hume, parson of Logic, 
 to the allegorical poem of Alexander Montgomery, and 
 to some others of inferior merit, which breathe the same 
 piety and purity, inspired ardour of sentiment, and de- 
 scription. It is in the " Thanks for a Summer's Day"
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. lOS 
 
 of the first, and in tlie " Cherry and the Skc" of the 
 second, that we are to look for and find those redeeming 
 graces which Wedderburn sought in vain to infuse into 
 the iniquitous strains of the wandering minstrels. I am 
 sorry that the former, who seems to have had some of 
 the best qualities of the popiJar i\Iuse about him, re- 
 frained from IjTic composition ; and I also wonder how 
 his " Summer's Day," during the rage for singing songs 
 of immeasurable length, escaped being sung. That the 
 " Cherry and the Slae" was sung, we have sufficient 
 evidence ; but our ancestors had fewer pleasures than 
 their descendants, and listened to a long narrative, or 
 a moral strain, \\'ith a patience verj' unlike that of the 
 volatile audiences which gather to applaud or damn a 
 poet's jjerformance no^v. I cannot well refrain from 
 speaking of Hume, nor can I easily resist quoting his 
 " Summer's Day," from which I have received so much 
 pleasure, and in which I am willing to believe I see the 
 first dawn of the great national, descriptive, and moral 
 poem of Thomson. To Hume, and to such as Hume, 
 I feel more desire to attribute the chano;e Avhich was 
 wrought in the external decorum and inward chastity 
 of our national songs, than to the mortification and 
 ridicule to which they were exposed by the strange 
 transmutations they suffered in the " good and godly 
 ballates." The impurities of song were overlaid rather 
 than amended by cumbrous spiritualization and leaden 
 allegory ; and if our future poetry attached itself more 
 to the blissful and balmy side of human nature, ex- 
 pressed a meekness in its joy and a quieter transport
 
 104 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 in its love, u modesty and a reverence in its humour, 
 and a gravity amidst its extravagance, we may seek for 
 the cause rather in the example which was set than in 
 the rebuke or persecution which was suffered. 
 
 It may startle some, and offend others, that I impute 
 part of the reformation wrought upon our lyrics to the 
 translation of Scripture and the version of the Psalms. 
 When the sacred word was unsealed to the multitude, 
 the peasantry of Scotland, a poetical and imaginative 
 people, dwelling among the mountains, and watching 
 their flocks amid scenery not much unlike that of Pa- 
 lestine, must have felt very strongly the pastoral beauty, 
 and simple grace, and chaste elegance of many of the 
 psalms of David, and the Song of his Son. They would 
 read a lesson there how inviting nature and truth may 
 be made with perfect innocence ; and how much female 
 loveliness was increased by the welcome absence of im- 
 pure thought or indecorous expression. I shall be told 
 of the unmelodious and unpoetical version of the rhymed 
 psalms ; but who will make a better ? and, above all, 
 ^vllo will make a work which may dismiss those simple 
 compositions from memory and from reverence, and 
 supply their place ? More elegance and more melody 
 might be brought to the task, but who will bring the 
 fame of two hundred years ? and ^vho will bring that 
 antique simplicity now sanctified as scriptural ? In Scot- 
 land the psalms have been long popular ; they are com- 
 mitted to the care of early memory before we learn to 
 square our affections by the rules of critics, and they 
 continue with us through life endeared by many recol-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 105 
 
 lections. Delight may combine with duty in this ; but 
 it requires not the impulse of duty to learn many of the 
 psalms. The eighth psalm, with almost a total absence 
 of rhyme in some of the verses, and with some im- 
 perfection in its harmony^, and some embarrassment in 
 its sentiment, is one of the most beautiful poems in the 
 language. 
 
 It was somewhere about the year 1540 that the 
 Psalms were rendered fit for the accompaniment of 
 music, by the protestants of Flanders; and it was in 
 1555 that Knox returned from Geneva, impressed with 
 the purity and propriety of Calvin's institutions, and 
 resolved to confer them on Scotland. At this time the 
 psalms of Clement Marot and his friend Theodore Beza 
 were separated from the profane ballad-airs to which 
 they were currently sung, and fitted with solemn music 
 to accompany the catechism of Geneva. That Knox 
 and his fellow -labourers in reform introduced the love of 
 psalmody into the Scottish kirk, there can be little doubt : 
 and far more successful than the author of the spiritual 
 ballads, the translators of our version succeeded in their 
 object, if their wish was popularity. Those wlio may 
 desire to know something of the poet whose version of 
 the psalms gave as great an impulse to poetry as to the 
 Reformation, will read with pleasure not unmingled with 
 pain the folloAving account of Clement Marot. 
 
 " Among the grooms of the bedchamber to Francis 
 the First of France was one Clement Marot, born at 
 Danean, a man naturally eloquent, of a voluble fiuent 
 tongue, having a rare vein in French poetry, wherewith
 
 106 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 the king was much taken, who kept him as a choice in- 
 strument of his learned pleasures. But as his wit was 
 something better than his conditions, by his acquaint- 
 ance with the Lutherans he was suspected of having 
 changed his religion ; and therefore, fearing the king 
 would be offended, he fled to his majesty's sister at 
 Beam, the old sanctuary for delinquents. Awhile after 
 the king was pacified, and he returned to Paris, where 
 he was advised by his friend, Francis Vatable, the He- 
 brew lecturer, to leave the trifling subjects he wrote 
 upon, and study divine poesie. Hereupon he began to 
 translate the Hebrew prophet into French stanzas, but 
 so ignorantly and perversely, as a man altogether un- 
 learned, that the king, though he often sung his verses, 
 vet, upon the just complaints of the Sorbonne doctors 
 and their severe censure passed against them, com- 
 manded that nothing of Marot's in that kind should 
 be from thenceforth published. But being forbid by 
 proclamation, as it often happens, the longing of the 
 reader and the fame of the work were increased ; so that 
 new tunes were set to Marot's rhymes, and they were 
 sung like profane ballads. He in the meantime growing 
 bold by the people's applauses and not able to forbear 
 bragging, for fear of punishment fled to Geneva, and 
 flying from thence for new crimes committed, but first 
 having been well whipt for them, he died at Austune. 
 The success of this translation moved Theodore Beza, a 
 friend of Marot, who wrote an elegy upon his death, to 
 join to the fifty which he had printed the other hundred in 
 French metre too ; so the whole book of David's Psalms
 
 SCOTTISH SOxXGS. 107 
 
 was finished. And to make it pleasing to the people, 
 they had several tunes set to them by eminent composers 
 that chimed so sweetly, that every one desired to have 
 the new psalter. But many errors being detected in it 
 against religion, and the work therefore prohibited — as 
 well because the verses of the prophet were published 
 in a vulgar tongue by profane persons, as that they 
 were, dolo malo, bound up with Calvin's catechism at 
 Geneva — these singing psalms, though abhorred and 
 slighted by the Catholics, remained in high esteem mth 
 the heretics ; and the custom of singing Geneva psalms 
 in public meetings, and on the highway, and in shops, 
 was thenceforth taken for the distinctive sisn of a 
 sectary." 
 
 Such is the account of one who, with no friendly 
 voice to heretical poetry, acknowledges its popularity 
 and its effect on the multitude. When it moved other 
 nations, are we to suppose that it left our own unmoved .'' 
 If song is the natural voice of the heart and of the fancy, 
 we may suppose sacred song to be the first fruits of re- 
 ligion, the earliest praise-offering of the heart and mind. 
 The scriptures, whether in the poetic prose of the pro- 
 phets or in the rhymed translations of our own worthies, 
 have impressed a peculiar stamp upon the Scottish 
 feeling and character, which is abundantly visible in 
 conversation and in song. In matters of allusion and 
 illustration, in the colour and pressure of thought, in 
 dramatic detail and graphic simplicity, the poetry and the 
 prose of Scotland have largely profited ; and though Ave 
 have departed a little from this more primitive and ex-
 
 108 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 pressive style, in quest of a more pointed elegance and 
 greater courtliness of phrase, we have gained less in 
 grace than we have lost in strength, and spirit, and 
 truth. It has even been made a matter of reproach 
 to Scotland, that the wit or humour of her sons, 
 whether within the limits of strict decorum or in the 
 debateable land between modesty and licentiousness, is 
 all alike more or less tinctured with scriptural learn- 
 ing or reference. I mention this, not from a conviction 
 of its truth, because I believe a Scotchman abuses a 
 devout education in this way as little as any one ; but 
 rather for the purpose of showing that manner has been 
 mistaken for matter. In the slow speech and melodious 
 utterance of the people of the lowlands, others have 
 distinguished, or imagined they distinguished, the de- 
 scendants and scholars of a nation of preachers, poets, 
 and enthusiasts. 
 
 The character and condition of our peasantry were 
 equally favourable for receiving and perpetuating the 
 change which the reformation -vvrought ; and the scrip- 
 ture, which the wisdom of man opened for the first time 
 to their eyes, presented, among its descriptions of patri- 
 archal establishments, a distinct image of their own. 
 Portioners and farmers lived in something of a patri- 
 archal state at the head of their various and numerous 
 households ; and the shearing of their sheep, the watch- 
 ing of their flocks, the cultivation of the ground, the 
 rapid rivers, the steep green hills, the alternate changes 
 from hill to dale, from corn to grass, all contributed to 
 assimilate the songs or scenes of scripture with the place
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 109 
 
 of their birth. This life of pastoral, and, if you will, of 
 rustic ease, afforded much leisure for music and for verse. 
 The shepherd on his hill, the maiden milking her ewes, 
 or pressing the white curd with as white a hand, the 
 mountains covered with sheep, the valleys patched with 
 corn, the change of season, and the pleasures of the winter 
 evening, the song, the mirth, and the dance, were all 
 circumstances more favourable for poesie than the noisy 
 toil of the mechanic, the din of the anvil, the rattle of 
 the loom, or the mason's hammer and the dusty stone. 
 " The vacant shepherd piping in the dale," whom the 
 poet saw in the vision of Indolence, was every where 
 seen ; while a maiden responded to his music in a strain 
 which belonged to his heart, and was perhaps his own 
 composition. Commerce, before which I am afraid the 
 simplicity of man as well as his mirth, his music, and 
 his song, have ever flown, penetrated but partially into 
 the pastoral recesses of the border : the haunts of the 
 Muse were long unprofaned by the introduction of 
 manufactures ; the streams were shallow and the moun- 
 tains rough ; and man had not condescended to become 
 a mere engine, and to ruin his health to make gold for 
 others. The hind built his own house, and exchanged 
 his own pastoral wealth for the productions of the town, 
 while his wife or his daughter spun or bleached or 
 sewed ; and the pride of the one was to be supereminent 
 in the management of his flocks, and of the other to be 
 unrivalled in domestic economy, to wear the finest home- 
 made mantle, and bleach the fairest linen on the rivulet 
 bank. The martial shepherds of the border, after the
 
 no SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 accession of James, laid aside their coats of mail and 
 hung up their spears, and gradually subsided into a 
 quiet and industrious people. With their warlike occu- 
 pation the warlike spirit of their ballads also departed ; 
 and the devout and moral character of the people, called 
 into poetic action by the presence of long absent repose, 
 was breathed out in strains of wedded joy and youthful 
 love equally pure and aifectionate. Nor have I drawn 
 an ideal picture : a fireside like that which I have briefly 
 sketched may still be found remote from towns, and hid 
 among the bosoms of the inland hills, presenting at 
 once an image of opulence and originality akin to the 
 domestic painting of Hugh Latimer. " JMy father was 
 a yeoman, and had lands of his own, only he had a farm 
 of three or four pomids by year at uttermost ; and here- 
 upon he tiUed as much as kept half a dozen men. He 
 had a walk for a hundred sheep, and my mother milked 
 thirty kine. He was able, and did find the king a 
 harness with himself and his horse, while he came to 
 the place that he should receive the king's wages. He 
 kept me at school, else I had not been able to preach 
 before the king's majesty now. He married my sisters 
 with five pound, or twenty nobles, apiece ; so that he 
 brought them up in godliness and fear of God. He kept 
 hospitality for his poor neighbours, and some alms he 
 gave to the poor, and all he did of the said farm." 
 
 Much has been said of the share which the beauteous 
 person and fine talents of queen Mary had in inspiring 
 verse; but I have yet to learn from tradition or from 
 history that the charms of her person or the accom-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. Ill 
 
 plisJmieiits of her mind gave rise to any thing better 
 than unhappy strife and civil and religious commotion. 
 Her short and stormy reign was injurious to her native 
 land ; her youth and her beaiity conspired against her 
 peace, and the moments of her life were numbered by 
 sorroAV, by shame, and the bitterness of captivity. Her 
 return from France to Scotland was welcomed by two 
 parties, who in their turns subjected their country to the 
 intrusion of English and French mercenaries ; and per- 
 haps the only people who welcomed her cordially were 
 the vagrant musicians and minstrels, who saluted her 
 with the sound of fiddle and rebec as she passed along 
 the streets of Edinburgh. The courtly Brantome speaks 
 of these pedestrian musicians or minstrels with the con- 
 tempt with which a P'renchman regards all nations save 
 his own ; but John Knox calls them a company of most 
 honest men, who with instruments of music gave their 
 salutations at her chamber- window. " The melody," as 
 she alleged, " liked her well, and she willed the same 
 might be continued some nights after with great dili- 
 gence." A beauty, a poetess, and a queen, she returned 
 to her country amid cruel discord — amid the rancour of 
 religious strife, of all strifes the most deadly, augmented 
 by Catholic artifice and the treachery and cunning of her 
 more poAverful rival and sister queen, Elizabeth. Her 
 own follies, the follies of her subjects, and the perfidy of 
 those in whom she trusted, alike demand and obtain our 
 sorrow and our hate. Neither her loveliness, nor the 
 desolate situation in which she stood, inspired a strain 
 which was worthy to live, or armed in her defence a man
 
 112 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 who had courage or virtue equal to her protection. If 
 the Muse raised her voice in her praise or her defence, 
 it must have been as feeble and ineffectual as the hands 
 and swords of the Hamiltons at Langside. Much has 
 been written in JMary's praise, and much has been writ- 
 ten against her. — I am not sure that she was any worse 
 or any better than the times in which she lived : those 
 who wish to think her pure will require great dexterity 
 of argument and an array of proof such as has never yet 
 been exhibited ; and those who desire to hold her up to 
 loathing and contempt would be wise to say nothing of 
 the virgin queen and the wishes she expressed to Sir 
 Amias Powlet or Sir Drue Drury ; nor to mention the 
 holy perfidy which forged the letters and sonnets, and 
 published them in her name. 
 
 If I distrust the accusations of her enemies, can I 
 confide in the eulogiums of her friends .'' They diflfer 
 in all other things and agree but in this, that Mary 
 was of beauty transcending all living beauty, and of 
 genius nearly rivalling her personal charms. Of these 
 there can be no doubt ; and if there were, it is noAv 
 too late to express it. The fame of her beauty, like 
 the story of her misfortunes, has been diffused over the 
 world by tradition, by history, by the painter's hand, 
 and Elizabeth's unwilling tongue ; and he who seeks to 
 lessen it is only an object for laughter. Her beauty 
 seems to me of a peculiar character — an exquisite union 
 of thought and form, resembling nothing in painting 
 or sculpture. — I am Avilling to believe I see in her face 
 the character of the daughters of Scotland, expressed
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 113 
 
 only with a rarer happiness and regularity. Her genius 
 is much more questionable than her loveliness : her edu- 
 cation, half Scottish, half French, was unfriendly to the 
 growth of aught original and vivid — she would lose the 
 free native force of her own tongue, and never wholly 
 attain that of France. The unhappy religious dissen- 
 sions which beset her on all sides, and finally over- 
 whelmed her, were unfavourable to the unfolding of 
 genius, which, sensitive as a flower, is shut with the 
 storm and opens with the sunshine. Religious discord 
 and religious hate froze up men's hearts, and the heroes 
 of the days of Robert Bruce and his descendant, i\Iary 
 Stuart, seem different races of people. The hand that 
 opened the doors of heaven seemed to have closed those 
 of happiness, and benevolence, and mercy — the sword 
 and the sermon united against her — and highly gifted 
 as she certainly was, could we expect her to show her 
 taste or her fancy amid civil broil and the torture of 
 long imprisonment .'' The thrush sings not under the 
 shadow of the raven's wing. Her beauty was her great 
 enemy ; her wit led her to the scaffold ; and such was 
 the influence of religious hate, that the Scottish no- 
 bles looked silently on while her blood was unjustly 
 spilt, and one, only one, had the courage to draw his 
 sword, and sav, " That is my answer to England." 
 Joseph Ritson, who was not much under the influence 
 of romantic feeling, and who seldom expressed sorrow 
 beyond the narrow circle in which as a mere antiquarian 
 he had allowed his spirit to be spell-bound, seems nearly 
 moved to tears with the beauty, and genius, and mis- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 fortunes of Mary. " Her testament and letters," he ob- 
 serves, " which the writer of these pages has seen, blotted 
 with her tears, in the Scots' College, Paris, will remain 
 perpetual monuments of singular abilities, tenderness, 
 and affection — of a head and heart, in short, of which no 
 other queen in the world was probably ever possessed." 
 The lyric genius which Brantome ascribes to her is con- 
 cealed from me in the language of France, and in any 
 translations which I have consulted much of the native 
 sweetness, and grace, and unsolicited ease of expression 
 which the originals possessed, has evaporated. A song 
 is like a flower in full bloom, which cannot well be trans- 
 planted without diminishing its beauty and impairing 
 its fragrance. 
 
 I have already noticed the change which the Reforma- 
 tion sought to produce and partly succeeded in effecting 
 in the purity of song. The accession of the Stuarts to 
 the throne of England, by bringing peace and security 
 to the land of poetry, changed the note of the trumpet 
 into the breathings of the pipe, and substituted the do- 
 mestic for the martial spirit of our lyrics. It was this sud- 
 den transformation of the sword into the ploughshare, 
 of the spear into the shepherd's staff, which probably let 
 loose a pastoral flood over the land, and filled our songs 
 with strange and affected names, and steeped our moor- 
 land landscapes in Arcadian dews. Many of the strains 
 of our scholars and our professed authors want the sharp 
 original stamp which native genius takes at first hand 
 from nature ; and possessed more with the Muse of Italy 
 or Greece than of Scotland, they sought to lirighten our
 
 SCOTTISH SONCiS. 115 
 
 suns and soften down our landscapes till they rivalled 
 those of other climes. Through the influence of learn- 
 ing, and the decrease, or rather extinction, of chivalry, 
 poetry became more or less the pursuit of many of those 
 who desired to be thought elegant or accomplished : the 
 offspring of the heart was succeeded by the oflfspring of 
 the head ; and printing, unloosing the seals which igno- 
 rance had placed on the literature of other nations, pre- 
 sented a readier way of finding images and thoughts 
 than seeking them in the bosoms of nature and of man. 
 The spirit of learning and of trade came more and more 
 into literature ; and the inspiration of which the heathen 
 poets boasted, inasmuch as they sang from the impulse 
 of nature and the fulness of the heart, descended on few. 
 They were not all prophets who imagined they prophe- 
 sied; nor did the Muse, perhaps, condescend to com- 
 mune with all alike among those who invoked her. Agreat 
 portion of the time which followed the accession of James 
 and preceded the Revolution under his grandson was 
 barren both of learned and of rustic verse. Convul- 
 sion followed on convulsion ; the religion of the people's 
 heart was sought to be overthrown ; and they drew the 
 sword in defence of civil and religious liberty. An an- 
 cient line of native princes was banished like aliens, and 
 a prince or protector, half hero, half tyrant, succeeded. 
 Scotland was invaded and subdued, but her enemies 
 died or were weakened by discord, and her ancient 
 princes were recalled. They returned only to imprison, 
 persecute, and slay ; and having learned nothing from 
 adversity but to reward good with evil, were driven 
 
 I '>
 
 116 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 again into an ignominious and perpetual exile. In the 
 midst of all this strife and commotion, the Muse of Eng- 
 land sang some of her most joyous strains ; but her sister 
 of the north, crushed in spirit, and persecuted in her 
 sons, and troubled probably in conscience, remained 
 silent ; nor could either the triumph of the kirk, or the 
 romantic deeds of James Grahame, woo from her sullen 
 lips a single verse of triumph or of sorrow. We have, 
 therefore, no songs in honour of the kirk — a theme ac- 
 counted, perhaps, too holy for a profane art — and we 
 have no songs in praise, either of the valour which so 
 effectually checked the arbitrary career of the first 
 Charles, or of the heroism which sought to win his 
 throne for his son from the bravery of Fairfax and the 
 cunning of Cromwell. " Songs and ballads," says Ad- 
 dison, " the creation and the delight of the commonalty, 
 cannot fail to please all such readers as are not un- 
 qualified for the entertainment by their affectation or 
 their ignorance; and the reason is plain, because the 
 same paintings of nature which recommend them to the 
 most ordinary reader also recommend them to the most 
 refined." But this was a time when the breathings of 
 the lyric Muse seemed to have lost their influence in 
 the north — the long and bloody struggle between the 
 episcopal and presbyterian churches was more dis- 
 astrous for Scotland, and saddened doM'u her poetic 
 spirit more, than did all the wars with the Edwards, or 
 her fierce and successful contest with the church of 
 Rome. Not only did no master-spirit in poetry arise, 
 but it would seem that the rustic Muse was also mute.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 117 
 
 and no longer contributed any of those rude but graphic 
 and vivid verses which are so common in Scottish song. 
 Our songs, with the exception of a few which had found 
 sanctuary in the collections of the curious, were fast de- 
 parting from the memories of our ancestors — they had 
 long been lessened in public esteem, and were regarded 
 by the professors of religion as the flowers with which 
 the enemy of grace strewed the paths of temptation. It 
 may well be imagined, that men who gave their nights 
 to meditation and their days to self-denial could have 
 little sympathy with love, and with the expression of the 
 tenderer passions in poetry. Women were regarded by 
 some of these stern worthies as little else than whited 
 walls, and stumbling-blocks, and ensnarers of the sage 
 and the devout. Scripture was quoted against the 
 splendour of their dresses ; the care with which they 
 curled their love-locks furnished matter for a sermon ; 
 and their numbers and their beauty suggested to the 
 castigated minds of some preachers an image of the 
 strength and extent of Satan's empire on earth. During 
 the continuance of this unwholesome system of kirk 
 discipline, dancing was accounted a profane amusement ; 
 men were rebuked for listening or moving; to the sound 
 of any music save that of psalmody ; and those who 
 wished to learn this ancient and forbidden art were 
 obliged to go in private and enjoy it with the terror of 
 kirk-rebuke before them. I remember when the sons 
 of a venerable and strict Cameronian stole out secretly 
 every evening to a dancing school ; but I have always
 
 118 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 had a suspicion that the old worthy was aware of 
 this backsliding of his offspring ; and it was remarked, 
 that in his prayers, which were exceedingly long and 
 curious, he sought grace for those who " foolishly flang 
 on a floor, and who leaped, and danced, and bent the 
 knees (which should bend only to Him above) to a mu- 
 sical idol of wood and thairm." 
 
 Yet I cannot accuse the Cameronian worthy alone of 
 compromising the principles of his sect, for I remember 
 when many of tlie graver members of the established 
 kirk accounted dancing an act little better than sinful, 
 and sighed to think that a more relaxed state of disci- 
 pline and greater freedom of manners had rendered the 
 knowledge of this evolution of antichrist a necessary 
 part of youthful education. Even apparel came in for 
 a share of the consideration of the kirk; and sim- 
 plicity and gravity in dress were commanded with an 
 exactness of description which proves the earnestness of 
 the preachers and their determination to be understood. 
 Nor was it in the earlier days of the reformed kirk that 
 this outAvard austerity was recommended and practised 
 — that the self-denial of externals was considered a 
 token of a purer and more sanctified spirit ; it descended 
 to a period within living men's memory, and it cannot 
 be denied that it suited the condition of a poor and in- 
 dustrious people. But the silks and the scarlets against 
 which the reformers and their successors lifted up their 
 voices were out of the reach of the mechanic and the 
 husbandman, till the activity of trade and the specu-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 119 
 
 lations of commerce brought gold among our vales and 
 hills, and then plenty grew too strong for the influence 
 of the kirk, and homely gowTis and homespun mantles 
 were laid aside for the more splendid and more costly 
 labours of the eastern looms. 
 
 That the constraint put upon harmless mirth and the 
 limitations assigned to dress had any particular influence 
 upon the character of our songs, I am not quite ready to 
 say ; but the example or precept of the old and the de- 
 vout had their full authority among the northern dales, 
 and I think the progress of song must have at least suf- 
 fered a sore rebuke when the aged forbade the dance, and 
 the seriotis considered it as a matter rather to be endured 
 than applauded. It is true that the kirk had provided 
 a substitute for the profane amusement of song; but the 
 spiritual lyrics failed of taking a lasting hold on the 
 popular mind — they were sermons set to tunes which 
 suited only the staid and the self-denying. It fared 
 otherwise with the religious letters of some of our early 
 divines, which had a wide circulation, and found their 
 way into the hands of the young and old, of the merry 
 and the grave. I am afraid I must impute some of this 
 success to the mistake which one with a moderate share 
 of wisdom might readily make of supposing the spiritual 
 courtships, which the letters described so lusciously, as 
 real rather than figurative ; and that the youth who 
 wooed so warmly and so eloquently sought a more 
 pleasing bride than an allegory. Few could read them 
 and remain in the frame of mind which the divine
 
 120 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 wished. MestoH; in describing a sedate presbyterian 
 dame, says. 
 
 She reads a letter 
 In Rutherford, and seldom misses 
 To light on those which mention kisses. 
 
 When age could make such a slip, can we expect 
 youth to be wiser ? It was about this period, too, if we 
 may credit the assurance of Sinclair, that the enemy of 
 mankind appeared in the most beautiful and seducing 
 shape among the sons of men, and placed their souls and 
 bodies in extreme hazard. Nor was the fiend content 
 with nocturnal exhibitions in the shape, and wearing 
 the hue and grace, of female beauty ; but on one occasion 
 he composed and sang a song which became suddenly 
 popular : I am sorry that neither scorn nor fear induced 
 the author of " Satan's Invisible World Discovered" to 
 preserve one verse of this infernal lyric. At another 
 time the same evil poAver cheered the witches of a western 
 district with a singular exhibition of minstrelsy. The 
 pen of a layman may not follow the privileged pen of a 
 divine in the description of Belzebub's gambols, nor 
 venture to record the name of the tune to which his 
 hags danced — it seems too characteristic of its author 
 to be named here. Tradition could lend its aid to 
 history in recording many other of Satan's adventures 
 as a ])oct and a minstrel, the creation of which I 
 shall not be so uncharitable as to impute, as some have
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 121 
 
 done, to devout men who wished to impress a salu- 
 tary dread of the sinfulness of song and music on the 
 minds of our ancestors. They were, however, far too 
 surely rooted to be so easily shaken ; and I am afraid 
 the dread of the evil one being abroad in the dark 
 neither lessened the number of midnight assignations, 
 nor the amount of exhibitions in the parish church — 
 when the youth of the district were found worthy of 
 standing on that " bad eminence," the repentance stool. 
 The decline of song may be safely imputed to other 
 causes than to the interference of religion with the 
 sports and pastimes of the people. When the old Scot- 
 tish poet sang of the wine which the working husband- 
 man drank — of his slumbering during the mid-day 
 warmth — and of his whole days of relaxation from toil, 
 he drew a picture of ease and abundance for which we 
 can find no parallel now. If happiness is another 
 name for wealth, we are much happier since assiduous 
 agriculture has extracted riches from the land, and 
 the rapid evolutions of machinery have rendered every 
 stream profitable, and added its immensity of power to 
 the strength of man. But I am not one of those who 
 think that current gold is human happiness, and that 
 man is more blessed in proportion as his wants and his 
 labours increase and multiply. When a man could with 
 five days' work earn subsistence for seven, he was surely 
 in a fairer way of being happy than when he has to work 
 six days for the like purpose ; and though his food came 
 not from a foreign land, nor his clothing from a loom 
 farther off than his parochial village, are we to suppose
 
 122 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 him less comfortable than ourselves with our teas, and 
 our spices, and our silks ? It was in the days when 
 man obtained his sustenance by moderate labour, and 
 had frequent remissions from toil, that we may place 
 the golden age of song ; and surely our ancestors, if they 
 had more patience than we, must have had more leisure 
 too, when they could listen to the chanting of our long 
 romances and the singing of our martial ballads. To 
 rise with the summer sun and not wipe the sweat from 
 our brow till he sets, as many have done and do, 
 may go far to obtain men a good name for laborious 
 industry ; but there is no Muse which presides over 
 bodily labour : and though one of these heathen ladies 
 patronised the dance, none of them took the plough, or 
 the loom, or the saw, or the axe, or the hammer under 
 protection. The patriarchal households of our ancestors 
 were favourable for song and tale : the farmer presided 
 among his servants, and, zealous for the good name of 
 his house, watched over them with paternal care ; he 
 blessed their meals, countenanced, as far as the strictness 
 of his religious virtues would allow, the innocent amuse- 
 ments of the evening, and then embodying the picture 
 of humble devotion which Burns has painted with so 
 much simplicity and truth, dismissed his dependants to 
 repose, and was the last Avho went to sleep. A labourer 
 himself, he was an example of industry to others, while 
 his wife presided over the whole department of in-door 
 thrift and economy, the management of cheese and but- 
 ter, the spinning of ilax and wool, the dyeing and bleach- 
 ing of her webs, and innumerable other nameless acts of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 123 
 
 domestic alertness and care, which distinguished a pea- 
 sant dame of old, and were summed up under the name 
 of household virtues. That we can find many such fire- 
 sides now, I am well aware ; but I am also aware that 
 there are few now^ compared to what there were within 
 my own remembrance; and that they are becoming 
 rarer every day. I shall be told, in answer to all this, 
 that the new spirit which has arisen has cultivated our 
 waste fields and clothed them with grain, removed our 
 thatched houses with their floors of earth, and replaced 
 them with mansions with slated roofs, ornamented ceil- 
 ings, and carpeted floors ; that our farmers' dames rustle 
 in silks instead of linsey woolsey, and instead of singing 
 to the running brooks 
 
 A music sweeter than their own, 
 
 they sing to the music of a piano-forte, and admonish 
 their maidens in the good set speech of England ; that 
 their husbands spur their hunting nags, or drive their 
 curricles; and that seated apart from the more vulgar por- 
 tion of their household, in a jiarlour hung with family 
 portraits, and with a figured carpet under their feet, they 
 wonder at the simplicity and lowliness of their fathers. 
 I admit this, and much more ; but I deny that we are 
 wiser, or better, or happier than we were. Wiser we 
 are not — since we have made our vanity conspire to in- 
 jure us : by the love of richer dresses, more delicate 
 meals, and softer beds, we have entailed endless labour 
 to support us in these luxurious delights, which, once 
 tasted, cannot be given up. Better we arc not — since
 
 124 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 pride has separated the fanner from his dependents, 
 placed him at the head of another table than his ances- 
 tors presided at;, and made him forget those daily and 
 devout ordinances which impressed a religious feeling 
 on all the hearts of his establishment. And happier we 
 are not — since the endless subdivisions of labour have 
 made us more dependent — since all desire to be par- 
 takers of the luxuries which the fortunate speculations 
 of men bring within the reach of the lowly and the 
 laborious — and since knowledge has opened its mid-day 
 light on all ranks, which, like the ray of Heaven, that, 
 as the poet feigns, flashed into Hell, serves only to dis- 
 cover the miserable plight to which the half of mankind 
 are reduced, to be the slaves of the other half. Change 
 of condition, increase of knowledge, the calling in of 
 machinery to the aid of human labour, and the ships 
 which whiten the ocean with their passing and repassing 
 sails, wafting luxuries to our backs and our tables, are 
 all matters of delight to the historian or the politician ; 
 but of sorrov/ to the poet, who delights in the primitive 
 o-lory of a people, and contemplates with pain all changes 
 which lessen the original vigour of character, and refine 
 mankind till they become too sensitive for enjoyment. 
 ]Man has now to labour harder and longer — to shajie out 
 new ^^ays to riches and even bread, and feel the sorrows 
 of the primeval curse, a hot and sweaty brow, more fre- 
 quently and more severely than his ancestors : all this 
 is uncongenial to the creation of song and to its enjoy- 
 ment — to its creation, where many of our finest songs 
 have been created ; and to its enjoyment, where it was
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 125 
 
 long and fondly enjoyed — among the peasantry of Scot- 
 land. 
 
 Besides all this, in the times of the ancient church, 
 ,the festivals and fasts were numerous, and lax in ob- 
 servance ; the saints, a legion in number, had each his 
 annual period of honour, and the laity were indulged 
 with much leisure for enjoyment. The fasts of the prcs- 
 byterian church are few in amount, and strictly ob- 
 served : and the sabbath gives not as of old its morning 
 to the service of Heaven, and its afternoon to augment 
 the pleasure and minister to the joys of mankind. Let 
 not my prcsbyterian brethren imagine me desirous of 
 revelling once more in the enjoyments which the thick- 
 coming saints' days of the calendar present, or believe 
 that my faith is different from their own, when I wiah 
 that all the days of man were not devoted to labour and 
 religion. In the devoutest era of the presbytcrian kirk, 
 I am not sure that the sabbath was so strictly observed 
 as it is now : it was at a Sunday foot-ball match that 
 the death of Sir John Carmichael, the Scottish Warden, 
 was plotted, in 1600; and in atill earlier times, we 
 find the heads of the church remonstrating against the 
 representation of plays on Sunday. I defend not this 
 breach of decorum, but I feel that in those days there 
 was a desire for amusement and pleasure abroad ; that 
 man had more leisure for laughter than noAv ; and that, 
 during intermission from labour and frequent holidays, 
 the ]\Iuse, whether merry or grave, was worshipped 
 earnestly at the cottar's hearth and in the baron's 
 hall.
 
 126 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Man's increase of wisdom, and the dread which know- 
 ledge has inspired of appearing to sanction what wit 
 accounts absurd or ludicrous, have conspired against his 
 ease, since they have banished annual processions, re- 
 gular pastimes, fixed periods of feasting and dancing, 
 and substituted labour, either bodily or mental, in their 
 place. I confess it is impossible to survey, without a 
 smile of pity or contempt, the annual exhibitions of our 
 corporations, ^vith stately steps and idle banners : and 
 we are apt to extend the same scorn or commiseration 
 to processions in which our nobles and our princes ap- 
 pear. It is impossible not to feel to the fullest the folly 
 of such pageantry : here our knowledge steps in between 
 us and our joy, and follows us with the grave diligence 
 of INIentor on the steps of Telemachus, to rob us of 
 pleasure, and poison the delicious cup which laborious 
 folly has filled for us. We are grown too wise to be 
 pleased with idle pageants, and too fond of variety, per- 
 haps, to be long pleased with aught. We have tasted 
 the luxuries of all quarters of the earth, and we love no 
 longer the simple fare of our forefathers. All things 
 change — we blush at the indelicate ballads which de- 
 lighted our grandmothers ; and the conversation of old 
 queens, and the love-letters of old princes, are too free 
 and too impure for the sylphs of the saloon in the thea- 
 tre or the gods of the gallery. A thousand old ob- 
 servances, a thousand curious ceremonies, involving the 
 manners and customs of our ancestors, are dead or dying 
 away : the carousal which welcomed in the new year, 
 the fires at Beltane, the mysteries and revelry of Hal-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 127 
 
 low-eve, the festival at the shearing of the flocks, at 
 the harvest-home, and many others, all times of song 
 and mirth, have lost their oldeu spirit, and have either 
 fallen into disuse, or are become like a saint's day — a 
 mere mark in the calendar. I remember the enthusiasm 
 with which the young, and the graver pleasure with 
 which the old, would assemble on the return of an an- 
 cient day of jubilee ; and the stories which were told, 
 the songs which were sung, and the characters which 
 were present, would form altogether a curious dramatic 
 picture, and deserve the hand of Wilkie or Allan. The 
 influence of such meetings, sanctioned by the presence 
 and participation of age, had a great effect upon the 
 yoTith of the district, and preserved an image of ancient 
 manners, and was a kind of initiation into the mysteries 
 and beliefs and feelings of their ancestors. I shall be 
 told that it is well that all such foolish or superstitious 
 observances are vanished, or vanishing, and that it is 
 time to look at things by the light of wisdom, instead of 
 by the dark lantern of ignorance. I am not sure that such 
 light is in all things beneficial. It would be the same to 
 Hamlet or Mac Ivor, if we could prove that the armed 
 phantom and the gray shadow which appeared to them, 
 and made such fearful revelations, were mere imagin- 
 ings, or spirits of sticks and straw ; the efliect would be 
 the same to the prince and to the chief; but what would 
 be the effect on us? It would destroy the charm which 
 the supernatural has diffused through those productions. 
 The acute, and examining, and doubting genius of this 
 age has unpeopled tlie green hills of their fairies.
 
 128 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 the wild glens of their ghosts, and midnight of all its 
 trains of phantoms and " grim features" which descended 
 to us with the oral histories and religious creeds of 
 our ancestors. That laborious and domesticated goblin, 
 Brownie, no longer thrashes the corn with his shadoAvy 
 flail, sups with supernatural glee the reward of curds 
 and cream, and crosses a flooded river on the errand of 
 a lady about to become a mother. Witchcraft no longer 
 turns the milk of a thousand cows into blood — nor inter- 
 poses between the father and his hopes of an heir, like 
 the spells which impeded the delivery of " Willie's 
 Ladye" — nor holds unbidden carousal on the wine of Bra- 
 bant, and transforms ragworts or rustics into steeds and 
 palfreys, to carry hags on their unhallowed errands. 
 Ten thousand influences have passed away, and all the 
 pomp of poesie, which embellished and made them ac- 
 ceptable, has departed in their train. 
 
 It would have been well had wisdom while it purified 
 popular belief of the grosser portions of its creed, like 
 the reformers when they broke the images of the papal 
 church, allowed the rest of the superstructure to stand. 
 But the spring-fire which destroys the furze destroys 
 also the nests of a thousand song-birds ; and the peasant, 
 who goes a trouting with lime, leaves nothing alive in 
 the stream. 1 wish that Avisdom had spared us some 
 few harmless and poetical beliefs. I could wish, for 
 instance, to have the dread of a visitation from the grave, 
 like Johnson ; to have so much fear of the spiritual 
 world left as would make me, while travelling during 
 the night, keep a sharp look-out on suspicious places.
 
 SCOTTISH SONCiS. 1^9 
 
 like Burns ; and I would wish, more than all, to have 
 upon me a feeling, between joy and fear, when wander- 
 ing among the wild hills by moonlight, lest I should 
 happen to hear the unearthly minstrelsy of the fairies, 
 and see them coming in procession over the earth, a 
 peasants saw, or imagined they saw, of old. But if I 
 can spare the presence and the inspiration which more 
 or less accompanied these beliefs, I can less afford to 
 spare the poetical impulse which they gave to human 
 thought — the wild and imaginative colouring which they 
 shed upon our language — the images which they sug- 
 gested, and the illustrations which they supplied. That 
 we owe to them much of our romantic poetry, there can 
 be little doubt : they have left their indelible impres- 
 sions every where among our early ballads. That we 
 owe to them much of that poetical elevation of thought 
 and expression which distinguishes our peasantry, I 
 could show with little leisure, and in little space, since 
 the dream of superstitious belief has not yet wholly 
 passed away. 
 
 I imagine I can perceive already in the conversation 
 of the peasants of the lowlands of Scotland the effects 
 of the vanishing of this long and acceptable vision of 
 the phantoms of old belief. The stream has dried up, 
 or ceased to {\ow, and the bed over which it meandered 
 is rugged and unsightly. A poetical and imaginative 
 people nursed these old beliefs in spite of their education 
 and the light which learning shed : while their southern 
 neighbours, having less imaginative power, and much 
 less knowledge, dismissed them as idle and unprofitable 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 encumbrances. Much of the richness of illustration, 
 much of the poetical strength of expression, has left 
 us ; and what was accounted the fittest food for the 
 Muse is charmed away from her lips by the magic-wand 
 of adventure, invention, and discovery. To a shepherd's 
 way of life, poetry may be supposed to have little to add, 
 since his whole existence seems poetical ; yet when the 
 arrows of the elves, and the speUs of the witches, were 
 broken or destroyed, the poetical part of sheep-surgery 
 departed also : he now consults the receipt-book, and 
 seeks no longer to avert or cure the evil which has 
 fallen on his flock by the poetry of charms or con- 
 jurations. The mariner, when he spreads his sail for a 
 foreign shore, no longer purchases a favourable wind 
 and a prosperous voyage from the witches of Lap- 
 land or Galloway; and though he whistles for the 
 breeze when the sea is calm, he does so more through 
 custom than from the hope of awakening the sleeping 
 wind. The fisherman, when he dips his nets in the 
 water, thinks not now of augmenting his draught of 
 fish by warbling to his victims a charmed rhyme ; and 
 the cowherd, when he drives his cattle to the pasture, has 
 forgot of late to regulate their movements, and protect 
 them from the spells of witches, with a rod of rowan- 
 tree. A horse-shoe is no longer nailed above the stable- 
 door, as a charm against the entrance of mischievous 
 beings ; nor is an ox's head buried under the barn 
 threshcdd, to ensure the coming of the corn unblighted 
 to tlie flail. The maid dreads no more the influence of 
 evil eyes over her gathering of cream, as the churn staff
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 131 
 
 ascends and descends amid the fragrant element ; and the 
 matron, as she bars her door at night, summons no more 
 
 Saint Bride and her brat, 
 
 and all other powers, in whose might her ancestors had 
 belief, to protect her and hers from all manner of fiends 
 and shapes in the service of Satan. These, and many 
 other rural superstitions of a poetical nature, have melted 
 away before the thaw of knowledge. 
 
 When the King of Ithaca was storm-bound and spell- 
 bound by the ancient poet, maritime discovery had not 
 laid down her charts, settled the longitude and lati- 
 tude of the isles of the ocean, and given the inhabitants 
 and productions a place in history ; he was therefore at 
 liberty to find land where he listed, and to people it mth 
 enchantresses and giants and winged fiends, since the 
 critics could not turn to the last map and the latest 
 voyage and cry, " Tliis man confounds navigation, and 
 pulls history by the nose." Our steps are regulated by 
 the compass, and our motions by the quadrant ; and the 
 Muse has no nearer resting-place where she may in- 
 dulge her inventions than on some few acres of untrodden 
 snow, near the North Pole, around which she may yet 
 see the marks of the feet of my townsman, Richardson. 
 When the peasant stood on the hill-top, and looked to 
 earth and sky as the sun sank, to discover the promise 
 of to-morrow, he composed something like the rudiments 
 of poetry as he remarked the colours of the clouds, and 
 the amplified or decreased appearance of the hills, and 
 deduced from the varied scene before him the certainty 
 
 k2
 
 132 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of sunshine or rain. He sits at home now and consults 
 his ahiianack. When time was computed by the sun's 
 shadow^ or by the evening lights, a shepherd, as he 
 gazed on the stars and moon, composed a poem while he 
 pondered out tlie hour : the bughting star, and the 
 northern wain, and the plough, are all names fitted for 
 rustic poetry ; but they have slipped out of conversation 
 now that a watch has usurped their office. INIen had 
 their lucky days on which they transacted business : a 
 sailor was unwiUing to weigh anchor on a Friday ; and 
 a family was sure to be overwhelmed with calamity 
 and misfortune, had the heads of the house chanced 
 to marry in May. Two magpies on the roof of a 
 dwelling-house were ominous of a funeral in one county 
 and of a wedding in another : a hare hirpling before a 
 youth as he was on the way to his love, during the twi- 
 light, has made him pale, and induced him to break his 
 tryste ; while a shower of rain on a bridal procession has 
 gone nearer to snatch the bride from the bridegroom's 
 arms than all the address and cunning of his rivals. I 
 have known men set down a corpse and wait tiU a cloud 
 interposed betAveen them and the sun before depositing 
 it in the earth. Such a superstitious feeling is still re- 
 corded in English rhyme : 
 
 Happy is the bride that the sun shines on. 
 And happy is the corse that the rain rains on. 
 
 These and innumerable other remains of a curious and 
 primitive people have been current in many men's
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 133 
 
 memories ; and as they contain the very elements of 
 poetry, there can be little doubt that poetry has suffered 
 by their loss, and that man is become more of a machine 
 — an instrument capable of cultivating a given quantity 
 of ground — a spinning-jenny for preparing thread — a 
 kind of military engine covered with plumes and scarlet, 
 for demolishing towns and destroying the human species. 
 I have allowed the subject of song almost to sink in 
 the flood of superstition ; and though I am aware that 
 many curious snatches of old beliefs are yet unmentioned 
 which contributed to its diffusion and its fame, I shall 
 leave them to the memories or imaginations of my 
 readers, and proceed with the less visionary part of my 
 introduction. 
 
 When we approach toward times either within the 
 reach of history or traditional memory, many customs, 
 and ceremonies, and oral institutions, and reliques of 
 ancient things, all connected with and illustrative of 
 song, present themselves at once, each claiming notice 
 and precedence. After emerging from the ocean of 
 civil and religious war which desolated Scotland and 
 ended in the establishment of her liberties, we reach a 
 period when song first began to claim and obtain the 
 notice and protection of the public, and was gathered 
 into a safer sanctuary than oral remembrance. It is 
 much to be lamented that more was not done — that 
 along with the reliques of our lyric verse some col- 
 lection had not been made of those dramatic ballads 
 which formed a part of the rustic interludes or plays, 
 accompanied with a clear and graphic account of en-
 
 134 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 tertainments of which some vestiges are still visible. 
 Some of these may be reproached with being indelicate, 
 others with being vulgar, and some with being pro- 
 fane; but unsuited as they might be to the taste of 
 the present age, they would have presented a rich and 
 accurate picture of other times, and assisted in explain- 
 ing many dark passages in tradition, in poetry, and 
 history. Along with these we should have had the do- 
 mestic history of our peasantry when, laying aside the 
 spear and shield, they sought to amuse and entertain 
 themselves, like all people on the way to refinement, 
 with pursuits which united bodily exercise with mental ; 
 we should then have seen those mixed audiences which 
 had the good taste and the patience to listen to the 
 long martial ballad of the Douglas and Percy, which 
 moved Sir Philip Sidney like the sound of a trumpet ; 
 we should have seen our rude and simple ancestors seated 
 at their hearths, with their weapons of war and the chase 
 grouped on the rough walls, and the chimney hung with 
 the produce of sea and shore, while around a blazing fire 
 the tale and the song abounded. All this, and much 
 more than this, may be gathered from oral recollection, 
 and from the existing condition of the people in the pas- 
 toral districts ; but Fancy must be indulged in ekeing 
 together these fragments of departed and departing 
 things, and though a pleasant companion, she is an un- 
 safe historian. 
 
 The customs, amusements, and beliefs, which our an- 
 cestors connected with song, were many and curious, 
 and claim the attention of all who would learn the hi..
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 135 
 
 story of our lyric jioetry. Song is found mingled with our 
 joys and with our sorrows, with our labour and with our 
 devotion : it speaks sometimes with a heathen, and often 
 with a Christian tongue ; often lends its aid to beliefs 
 dark and mystical, and illustrates as an active and 
 visible agent some custom or pastime yet living among 
 the peasantry. Song followed the bride to the bridal 
 chamber, and the corpse when folded in its winding- 
 sheet, — the hag as she gratified her own malicious na- 
 ture with an imaginary spell for her neighbour's harm, 
 and her neighbour who sought to counteract it; even 
 the enemy of salvation solaced, according to a reverend 
 authority, his conclave of witches with music and with 
 verse. The soldier went to battle with songs and with 
 shouts ; the sailor, as he lifted his anchor for a foreign 
 land, had his song also, and with song he welcomed 
 again the reappearance of his native hills. Song seems 
 to have been the regular accompaniment of labour : the 
 mariner dipped his oar to its melody ; the fisherman 
 dropped his net into the water while chanting a rude 
 lyric or rhyming invocation ; the farmer sang while he 
 consigned his grain to the ground; the maiden, Avhen 
 the corn fell as she moved her sickle; and the miller 
 had also his welcoming song when the meal gushed 
 warm from the mill. In the south I am not sure that 
 song is much the companion of labour ; but in the north 
 there is no trade, however toilsome, which has banished 
 this charming associate. It is heard among the rich in 
 the parlour, and among the menials in the hall : the 
 shepherd sings on his hill, the maiden as she milks her
 
 136 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ewes ; the smith sings as he prepares his welding-heat, 
 the weaver as he moves his shuttle from side to side ; 
 and the mason, as he squares or sets the palace stone, 
 sings to make labour feel lightsome, and the long day 
 seem short- Even the West India slaves chant a pro- 
 longed and monotonous strain while they work for their 
 task-masters ; and I am told they have a deep sense of 
 sweet music, and no inconsiderable skiU in measuring 
 out words to correspond with it. 
 
 Songs invoking the presiding spirit or patron saint 
 of wells and waters, for the cure of men and cattle, 
 were once common ; and if any authentic specimen could 
 be obtained now, it Avould make a valuable addition to 
 our lyrics. Many such wells, and pools, and lakes, were 
 scattered among our hills and vales ; and to them, mostly 
 on the first morning of JMay, the peasantry flocked far 
 and near, for the sake of healing the sick or the maimed 
 with a drink from the charmed ^vater as the day daAvned. 
 A short hymn or song expressive of faith in the virtue 
 of the spring, and of hope of health in the sick person, 
 was first chanted, and then the pilgrims knelt down 
 and lapped the water from their hands. It was unusual, 
 or subversive of the charm or the virtue of the water, to 
 drink it from a cup, unless the cup happened to be a 
 blessed one, such as the pious of old always had in store 
 for opulent pilgrims. When a cure was performed, and 
 tradition says many were, the crutches of the lame, and 
 a garment of the sick, were presented as an oflfering, and 
 laid on the margin of the water, or suspended from the 
 boughs of a neighbouring tree ; and this too was gene-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 137 
 
 rally accompanied by a religious chant. On the brink 
 of many wells in Dumfriesshire and Galloway, rib- 
 bons, and other little articles of female finery, have 
 been seen by people yet living, fastened so as to wave 
 over the spring, the offerings of mothers for the recovery 
 of their children ; and several of the wells yet bear the 
 name of the guardian saint, and stories of the cures they 
 ^vrought of old are still current in the country. Some 
 of the richer pilgrims expressed their faith or their grati- 
 tude by dropping a coin of silver, and sometimes gold, 
 into the well ; and when it was known that any one 
 who abstracted the offerings was instantly punished 
 with the infirmities of those who made them, we may 
 suppose they were untouched by all whose fears were 
 too strong for their cupidity. A piper, it is said, once 
 stole an offering made by a luxurious laird in Galloway, 
 and was instantly admonished of his folly by a severe 
 fit of the gout. 
 
 The virtues of many other wells were of a less 
 limited nature, in which case their ability to cure 
 particular ailments was ascertained by a very sure and 
 simple experiment. A garment from the body of the 
 ailing person was carried to the well and laid on the 
 surface of the water, while a superstitious hymn or in- 
 vocation was sung. If the garment sank before the song 
 was done, the well refused its aid ; but if it floated, the 
 recovery of the person was certain ; and the virtue of 
 the water must have been great which floated the massy 
 dresses of our ancestors. In this Avay, also, the recovery 
 of horses and cows attlictcd ^vith any malady was tried.
 
 138 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 and a bridle of the one^ or a piece of cloth which had 
 touched the other, was generally used, and their sink- 
 ing or swimming depended much on the dexterity of the 
 messenger. The virtue of a certain well was so great, 
 that on one occasion it floated a horse-shoe : a rival spring 
 sought to eclipse its sanctity by floating a pound of 
 butter. I never but once had the good fortune to hear 
 one of those hymns : it had been chanted on the re- 
 covery of a young woman, when a snood of silk was 
 suspended over the spring that cured her. It was a 
 rude rhyme, yet it had a sound unlike that of any 
 other lyric to which I had ever listened. I have en- 
 deavoured in vain to remember any part of it, for I 
 heard it recited as a curiosity when I was very young ; 
 but since I cannot give the exact words, I will not run 
 the risk of censure by substituting a version which might 
 echo back the sound mthout the sense of the original. 
 
 Another superstition, of which song was frequently 
 the oflfspring, was that of asking every evening the pro- 
 tection of some particular saint for the house, the in- 
 habitants, the cattle in the fold, and the corn in the 
 stack-yard. I am not sure that I should regard this as 
 a superstition at all, but as the performance of a religious 
 duty, a proof of domestic care, and perhaps the fore- 
 runner of that solemn family M^orship to which Bums 
 with so much truth imputes the excellence of the na- 
 tional character. That it was performed in rhyme we 
 have the testimony of an enemy, or, more correctly 
 speaking, of a man who saw in it, not a relique of the 
 old religion of the land, but an instance of the power of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 139 
 
 Satan on earth, and a recommendation of the houseliold 
 to liis care and protection. The rhymes are indeed rude, 
 and speak of the saints whose patronage was sought with 
 a familiarity Avithout example now, but perfectly con- 
 sistent with the character of our ancestors. 
 
 Who sains the house to-night ? 
 They that sain it ilka night. 
 Saint Bryde and her brat. 
 Saint Colme and his hat. 
 Saint IMichael and his spear. 
 Keep this house from the weir. 
 
 At the period when such lyrical prayers were popular, 
 it required the strong protection of a military saint to 
 save a house from being berried by the borderers, who, 
 when they put their feet into the stirrup to make a 
 foray into Scotland or England, chanted a rhyming 
 prayer, which was never uttered perhaps without some 
 honest person being the poorer for it before morning. 
 
 He that ordained us to be born. 
 Send us mair meat for the morn : 
 Come by right, or come by wrang, 
 Christ, let us never fast owre lang. 
 But blythely spend what's gaily got — 
 Ride, Rowland, hough's i' the pot. 
 
 But to follow song through all the capricious windings 
 of superstition would require more knowledge than I
 
 140 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 possess, and more patience than is usually the lot of 
 those who seek information about such light matters. 
 I cannot, however, avoid noticing the metrical charms 
 which were once commonly sung on many occasions, 
 by which man brought, or imagined he brought, some- 
 thing of the influence of both worlds, of good and evil, 
 to the assistance of his labours or his designs. Thus 
 the weird sisters in INIacbeth sang as they filled their 
 infernal caldron; and their short uncouth verses re- 
 semble the remains of some of our old lyrical incanta- 
 tions. Ben Jonson has imagined another hymn in the 
 same singular spirit : and I remember to have heard a 
 curious fragment of a similar character; but nothing 
 remains on my memory save two lines : 
 
 Frog's foot and blood-stone. 
 Dog's pluck and herring-bone. 
 
 - The witches of Lapland are said, by sailors, to con- 
 jure the winds into bags and bottles by means of song, 
 and thus, through the aid of their lyrical skiU, are enabled 
 to bestow the blessing of a speedy voyage on our impa- 
 tient mariners. When butter came with reluctance from 
 the cream, it was, in ancient times, enticed or compelled 
 to appear by the chanting of a charm ; and I am not 
 certain that such songs have wholly ceased to be used 
 among the dames of the north. 
 
 Come, butter ! come, come ! 
 Come, butter, come !
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 141 
 
 Saint Peter 's at the gate. 
 Waiting for my butter'd cake ; 
 Come, butter ! come, come ! 
 Come, butter, come ! 
 
 If the butter could resist such a melodious call as this, 
 especially when seconded by the labour of the singer, 
 ordinary industry might despair. 
 
 There is a kind of lyrical lament, or melancholy dirge, 
 which was chanted by the mourners over the corpse 
 while they laid it in the winding-sheet, and strewed 
 such floM'ers and sweet herbs as the season yielded, that 
 seems once to have made its way among the peasantry 
 of England as well as of Scotland. It had not always, it 
 is true, the same tone of sadness, and the same pathetic 
 description of the attractions of the deceased, and the 
 same hopes expressed for his future welfare, which 
 would seem to be the natural character of such dirges. 
 There was sometimes a note of mirth amid the sound of 
 woe ; and the solemn song which was chanted by the 
 living at the side of the dead accorded not always with a 
 voice from the tombs. In truth, the interval — and it 
 was frequently a long one — which elapsed between the 
 shrouding of the corpse and the interment, was often 
 spent in feasting and carousing; and it is by no means 
 an exaggerated picture of a house of death, \^'hich is 
 painted by the old bard in the ballad of the Humble 
 Beggar, " some were merry and some were sad, and 
 some were blythe as blythe could be." The song or 
 dirge often contained an exhortation to charity and be-
 
 142 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 nevolencej and expressed the singular belief, that the 
 deceased, in his way to bliss, would have to go through 
 a doleful region of frost and snow — through an un- 
 trodden country full of thorns and briers, and finally 
 have to pass over a bridge, which, springing from the 
 earthly side of a dark flood, reached only to the middle 
 of the stream. On his way, however, all the good deeds 
 he had done in life came to help him in this perilous 
 journey : the clothes which he had given to the naked 
 covered him as he went through the region of frost ; 
 the shoes which he had bestowed in alms found their 
 way to his own feet in the desert of briers and thorns ; 
 and when he came to the broken bridge, the spirits of 
 the just whom he had befriended bore him, not without 
 dipping his feet in the dismal stream, to the celestial 
 side- The Mahometans seem to share in the same be- 
 lief when they imagine that all the pieces of paper which 
 believers pick up will come of their own accord and in- 
 terpose between their naked feet and the ploughshares 
 of red hot iron over which they have to pass into pa- 
 radise. The lyke-wake dirge in the Border minstrelsy, 
 a rude but impressive chant, expresses a similar feel- 
 ing, and induces us to grieve that no more of these 
 superstitious lyrics have been preserved. 
 
 Though the lyke-wake songs have ceased, we may 
 easily recognize, in the prayer which is oflfered up before 
 the mourners move the body from the house, the same 
 train of thought, the same feeling, which those lyrics 
 expressed, sobered down and modified to suit the simpler 
 worship of the presbyterians. I have often been struck
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 143 
 
 with awe when the body was laid on the bier, when the 
 mourners had taken their places, and the women had 
 subdued their feelings into a tear and a sob, to see some 
 venerable man uncover his gray hair, and, placing him- 
 self at the head of the coffin, offer up a prayer of 
 resignation and condolence. The prose of the old 
 man's prayer was more poetical than the rhymes of the 
 lyke-wake lyrists ; and I am far from sorry that such 
 unseasonable examples of oiu- national love of song have 
 long ago ceased. I am free to confess that I never 
 heard the language of the lowlands of Scotland so grace- 
 ful, so pure and impassioned, as I have heard it from a 
 peasant's lips as he prayed by the side of his ancient 
 comrade and fello^v-labourer, laid out in linen, cold and 
 senseless, and about to be borne to the grave. All the 
 grosser parts of the language sank as the feeling of his 
 loss took possession of him; and if ever I could say 
 that I listened to what I might imagine akin to in- 
 spiration, it was when I heard prayers uttered near the 
 bed of sickness and the bier of death. 
 
 The consideration of song carries me to scenes less 
 grave or mysterious than those Avhich I have sought to 
 sketch ; where, if superstition mingle, her looks are less 
 dark ; and if sadness intrude, it is but for an instant, 
 like the wings of the raven passing between us and the 
 sun. Among the many topics on which human belief 
 chose to employ song, one of the most curious was that 
 of the intercourse which the powers of pleasure and mis- 
 chief had established between mankind and the fairies. 
 That diminutive and poetic race with which human be-
 
 144 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 lief has not yet wholly ceased to tenant our northern 
 hills and dales were willing at times to show them- 
 selves among men, and exchange mutual courtesies and 
 deeds of kindness. In many of their benevolent actions 
 was a mixture of elfin mischief; yet when they went 
 about any serious wickedness, they had a kind of un- 
 eartlily glee and capricious good-humour about them, 
 which more than half atoned for the arrows which they 
 shot among the flocks, and for the exchanges which they 
 sometimes made of their own dwarfish progeny for the 
 children of men. In whatever deed they were em- 
 ployed, music and mirth accompanied them, and still 
 their speech was song. The music which the lady of 
 Tamlane heard, and the wonderous procession which 
 she saw, had been heard and seen by others of the 
 maidens of Caledonia : and among the many tales which 
 lent wings to the winter evenings, the most pleasant 
 and the most poetical were those which described the 
 midnight processions of the Fairies, the charms of their 
 minstrelsy, the beauty of their songs, the splendour of 
 their palaces hidden in the bosoms of the green hills, 
 and the life of joy which they led riding under the new- 
 risen moon or wandering among the abodes of men, con- 
 cealed by the power which they had of becoming invisible 
 when they chose. The impulse which this beautiful and 
 diminutive race gave to our lyric poetry may be traced 
 through many of our earlier compositions ; and if we 
 regard them as the mere creatures of the popular 
 imagination, then we may take their character, and the 
 actions ascribed to them, as a very lively specimen of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 145 
 
 the wild and romantic spirit which distinguished our 
 ancestors. The firm assurance and belief which the 
 peasantry had, and have, in their existence, can only be 
 known by those who have an intimate acquaintance with 
 the cottagers of Caledonia. In every green hill they are 
 believed to have fixed their abode ; in every solitary and 
 beautiful turn of a mountain stream, they have been 
 seen dancing; and makino; all the glen resound Avith their 
 mirth ; and in every wild and picturesque and seldom- 
 frequented path, they have been observed in all the 
 pride of equestrian procession, hurrying along to the 
 music of many instruments. I confess I cannot see in 
 the character and in the actions imputed to this poetic 
 race any very close resemblance to the imps and satyrs 
 of other countries ; but if the belief were an imported 
 one, we have made it our own by the way we have 
 dressed it out in the Scottish costume of poetical super- 
 stition. 
 
 If the songs and minstrelsy of the Fairies commu- 
 nicated none of their own aerial spirit to the popular 
 poetry, still the general belief in their existence and 
 their influence served to keep up the more ethereal part 
 of the spirit of song. All that pertains to .them and 
 every attribute bestowed on them, and all the actions 
 which the caprice of popular fancy has imputed to them, 
 are purely and essentially poetical. They never per- 
 formed menial drudgeries, like the Brownie, for the 
 sake of lying stretched out all the chimney length, and 
 supping curds and cream by the warmth of the mid- 
 night embers : nor had they the gross and sensual pro- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 pensities of the witches, whose inspiration served only 
 to degrade them in vulgarity below the rest of mankind ; 
 nor were they humbled into the form of an animal, like 
 the Kelpie ; nor doomed to drag a fish's train, like the 
 Mermaid : their shapes and their pursuits were stamped 
 with the character of a generous and an elegant super- 
 stition. If popular belief makes them exchange at times 
 their own progeny for the children of men, it imputes 
 no cruel motive for the deed ; and if they are charged 
 with falling in love with handsome youths and beau- 
 tiful maidens, and with carrying them away to Fairy- 
 land, they orJy interposed between them and sudden 
 death or lingering sorrow, and saved those who were 
 doomed to an early grave. It happened when I was a 
 child, that a neighbouring gentleman was returning from 
 a fair with his only son, a fine youth, some seventeen 
 years old : within call of his house was a brook, which 
 in summer-time a child four years old might wade, but 
 which now, augmented by a thunder shower at the 
 head, came down deep and broad ; and being somewhat 
 of a mossy stream, the increase of its waters made no 
 great increase of its sound. The night was dark, and 
 when the father reached the opposite bank of the brook 
 his son's horse was by his side, but the saddle was empty. 
 Instant search was made, but the body of the youth was 
 nowhere to be found. Soon after, it happened that the 
 young man's sister was returning home along the bank 
 of the same stream : it was about the twilight, and she 
 had reached the fatal ford, Avhen her brother suddenly 
 appeared and addressed her. She felt no alarm, she
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 147 
 
 said, for lie had the same sweet kind look which he ever 
 had to her, and his voice was not altered. He told her 
 he was not drowned, as had been supposed, but was car- 
 ried into P'airyland, and allowed to revisit the earth but 
 once every moon. When he fell from his horse he was 
 caught before he reached the water, and borne away as 
 if he had been carried on wings, and laid down in a wild 
 glen in the middle of a meeting of fairies, who were all 
 seated on the grass, listening to a new song; he was 
 hailed as one redeemed from dro^vning, clothed with a 
 green mantle and placed on a white horse j and a fairy, 
 passing her hand over his face^ bade him look, for he 
 was among friends : and he looked, and saw the faces of 
 many men who were supposed to have fallen in battle 
 or perished at sea, and one of them was his own uncle, 
 whose ship had sunk in the Solway with all its mariners 
 aboard. Yet he wished not, he said, to dwell away from 
 his father's house, and from a sister whom he tenderly 
 loved; and though he could not return of himself, he 
 might be won back by a dauntless and intrepid spirit. 
 On the first night of the moon he would be one of a 
 troop of fairies who would pass by the parish kirkyard, 
 and the mark he would be known by was a cornpipe, on 
 which he was to play ; and the tune he would play was 
 the one which his sister loved, — "Aye waking O.''" 
 He entreated her, if she wished to win him, to hide 
 herself in the churchyard, and when the fairy train came 
 by, to leap up and seize him, and claim him as a Christian 
 in the name of God. All this she promised to do, but 
 she had not the courage of the heroine of Carterhaugh ; 
 
 l2
 
 148 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 for the fairy procession overcame her so much with 
 supernatural terror, that she allowed her brother to go 
 by without attempting his rescue. He was never again 
 visible ; but she heard him often, as the fairies rode 
 past, singing with a mournful voice of his own unhappy 
 fate and the love he bore his sister. 
 
 In the extensive credit which this wild story obtained 
 we may see the desire that mankind has of imagining an 
 intercourse with the other world, and also the feeling 
 which never separates fairies from song. This might 
 be exemplified in a thousand wild traditions — and tra- 
 dition in a matter of this kind is a much safer guide 
 than the conjectures of the learned and the creations of 
 poets, whose genius had received a colouring from classic 
 superstition. They are apt to see every thing with Greek 
 or Latin eyes, and desire to look in the mythology of 
 the ancients for the gloomy gods and sportive elves of 
 the north. I shall not, however, attempt to follow my 
 subject through all the winding vistas of common be- 
 lief, but proceed to examine some of those old customs 
 and amusements where song was often the chief plea- 
 sure, and always a welcome auxiliary. 
 
 By those intimately acquainted with the manners and 
 customs of the peasantry, something like the remains 
 of a rude drama — a representation uniting the fourfold 
 qualities of acting, dancing, music, and song — must have 
 been often observed at weddings, at harvest-homes, and 
 other festivities. To me it has appeared under three 
 different forms ; and a brief description of each may 
 recal similar rustic attempts at dramatic representation
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 149 
 
 to many of my northern readers. The first I saw was 
 called " The Wooing of the Maiden," a favourite pastime 
 at the close of a wedding feast, and indeed it seemed 
 designed as a humorous portraiture of the vicissitudes of 
 courtship. When dancing and carousal had quickened 
 up the spirits of the wedding guests, and just before 
 the time of stocking-throwing, the door of the barn was 
 opened, and a youth and maiden entered, keeping time 
 to the sound of the fiddle which commenced the air that 
 gave a name to the entertainment. The youth was a 
 lively peasant with no small share of inventive humour, 
 and dressed in the extremity of the fashion ; while the 
 damsel jXTSonated with very good grace a fantastic old 
 maid, flourishing in ancient finery, M-ith a sharp shrill 
 voice and a look of great importance. They advanced 
 to the middle of th^ floor beating time to the tune, and 
 smiling upon each other, and mimicking the appearance 
 of delight and joy. This pantomime having lasted some 
 five minutes, the maiden sang part of a song adapted to 
 the music, which praised the charms of opulence, and laid 
 the scene of domestic love and endearment among bags 
 of gold, in the middle of many acres, and concluded 
 with extolling the wisdom and discretion of age. This 
 was answered by a song from her lover, which, with the 
 usual enthusiasm of youth, spoke with great contempt 
 of charms which were rated by the acre — of attractions 
 which were weighed by gold ; and laid the scene of 
 true love endearment at the time when maidens step 
 out of their teens. As the charms of the rustic actress 
 happened to be far from considerable, and as she had in
 
 150 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 all appearance overstepped her teens a good score of 
 years, she considered this lyric declaration of her lover 
 as somewhat personal, and proceeded to resent it in very 
 passable pantomime. — She strode round the floor with 
 the stride of an ogress, and shivered all her finery with 
 anger and pride as a fowl rufiles its feathers. Her lover 
 seemed by no means desirous of soothing her ; he mi- 
 micked her lordliness of step, and the waving of her 
 mantle, and stepped step by step with her and the music 
 round the floor. He then took an empty purse out of 
 his pocket, shook it before her face, threw it into the 
 air and caught it as it fell, and burst out into another 
 verse of song in contempt of riches and all who pos- 
 sessed them. This was answered by a corresponding 
 verse from the maiden, in which she laughed at empty 
 pockets, and scorned poverty, in the way the world has 
 ever done. He then turned from her in great anger. 
 And now began the more dramatic part of the entertain- 
 ment : he danced round the company, and having singled 
 out a young woman, the most beautiful he could find, 
 he saluted her, took her hand, danced with her into the 
 middle of the floor, and made earnest love as far as the 
 silence of pantomime would alloAV. This excited the 
 anger and jealousy of the other ; and as the nature of 
 the dance required the music still to be obeyed by the 
 feet, we had a very good dance ; a very good song from 
 the slighted lady, in scorn of her landless rival ; a song 
 in reply from the other, vindicating the supremacy of 
 youth and beauty against the influence of moorlands 
 and meadows ; and, finally, a verse from the hero of the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 151 
 
 entertuinment, rejoicing in the choice of his heart in 
 opposition to that of avarice. This kind of contest 
 continued some time — one moment limited to pan- 
 tomime, and the next breaking out into satiric verse : 
 it ended;, hoAvever, as all contests of that kind generally 
 do, in the triumph of her of the houses and land, and 
 with her success the representation terminated. I may 
 add, that I have seen it acted without the assistance of 
 song, and that the addition of the verse, though a great 
 improvement by lending voice to action, impeded the 
 operations of the dance and rendered it subordinate. 
 
 The next pastime of this kind which I shall notice 
 seemed to be a dramatic presentation of a contest between 
 Idleness and Industry, between Waste and Tlu-ift, and 
 gave its name to, or took it from the well-known air of 
 " The Roke and the wee pickle tow." It is commonly 
 acted at one of those carousals called harA'est-kirns, 
 and commences by the musician playing the air Avhich 
 introduces to the floor and to the audience a staid and 
 thrifty-looking dame, with a roke or distaff in her bosom 
 replenished with flax, from which she twines or seems 
 to twine thread. She is joined in the dance, but not in 
 the industry, by a joyous, middle-aged man, somewhat 
 touched, it may be, with liquor : he holds a candle in his 
 hand, and dances with her round the floor, beating ac- 
 curate time all the while to the music. He of the 
 candle sings a verse to the air of the music, in which he 
 laughs at thrift, and counts industry a colder companion 
 than pleasure. She of the roke replies to this, and 
 tells him in song that idle pleasure ends in sorrow
 
 153 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 and repentance^ while homely industry brings peace and 
 happiness, and shuts the door on pain and on poverty. 
 The music, played purposely slow for the sake of the 
 song, bursts out more boldly, and the dance, like that of 
 the witches in Tarn O'Shanter, grows fast and furious ; 
 for the man endeavours to set the roke on fire with his 
 candle, while the woman eludes him with great activity, 
 and all the while the music and the feet echo to each 
 other. This contest continues for the space of five 
 minutes or more, and then they renew the bickerings 
 between idleness and thrift in satiric song. On the 
 side of Industry, many proverbs pressing the necessity 
 of thrift are woven into verse, while all the curious say- 
 ings which ridicule labour, and paint pleasure lying idle 
 among beds of lilies, are at the command of him who 
 would have been the " Unthrift" in one of the old mo- 
 ralities. Fire prevails however at last against its com- 
 bustible opponent, and the pleasure of the audience is 
 measured by the duration of the strife ; for it requires 
 no small management and agility to preserve the " Roke 
 and the wee pickle tow" amid the evolutions of the 
 dance. This dramatic entertainment, I understand, is 
 sometimes represented without song, and it is not at all 
 improbable that it forms only a portion of some more 
 important performance. 
 
 I have already elsewhere in this wandering introduc- 
 tion anticipated the account of the third description of 
 the rustic drama — a Nithsdale interlude, acted on many 
 occasions of festive merriment, and known by the name 
 of " Auld Glenae." I have little doubt that this comic,
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 153 
 
 but not over reverent interludej was originally intended 
 for two persons, one the sinner, and the other a professor 
 of the kirk ; and that the humour of the whole was sus- 
 tained by the assumed gravity of admonition and rebuke 
 on the one hand, and the arch simplicity of the trans- 
 gressor on the other ; the whole being intended to ridi- 
 cule the inquisitorial scrutiny of the kirk session into all 
 offences against chastity. The reverend ^ctor is omitted 
 in modern representation, and the humour of the piece 
 is entirely supported by the delinquent, a man whose 
 hoary hair and age-bent frame almost give an answer to 
 the charge. I have seen it performed before a rustic 
 audience with applause : but I believe it has now, along 
 with all similar entertainments, fallen into disuse or 
 discredit. I love so well whatever gives us an ima^e 
 or a notion of the character and pursuits of our an- 
 cestors, as to wish that the remains of all matters of this 
 nature were collected by a curious hand and preserved 
 for posterity. 
 
 The condition of the bulk of the Scottish population 
 was in itself favourable for the production and con- 
 tinuance of song ; and long after the minstrels were 
 forgotten, many of the peasantry, without perhaps any 
 skill in music, supplied their place in the recitation of 
 romances, in the chanting of ballads, and in the sing- 
 ing and sometimes in the creation of songs. Such men 
 I remember — a kind of district historians, who had a 
 tale for every hill, and a song for every stream, and a 
 proverb for every casualty in human life and affairs. 
 They knew the history of each family, and the characters
 
 154 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of the living and the dead ; they could see in a rising 
 name the fulfilment of some ancient prophecy, and in 
 the sinking of another that some long treasured-up 
 curse was coming to pass. At the hearth where they 
 were seated for the evening were gathered many of the 
 youths and many of the maidens of the district, and songs 
 and tales and anecdotes abounded till midnight. They 
 had grave stories for the grave, and gay songs for the 
 gay ; nor when the cups were moving and the maidens 
 away did they want some of those free and characteristic 
 strains which abounded when the kirk sought to chasten 
 song by means of the "Godlie Ballats." I claim for these 
 parochial poets neither the name of minstrel nor the 
 importance of the art. But if they communicated none 
 of tlie lofty, buoyant, and elegant spirit to verse which 
 the minstrels are supposed to have supplied, they cer- 
 tainly brought a naivete and rustic skill, a freshness 
 and originality of thought, and maintained that lively 
 dramatic cast of composition which has given so much 
 spirit to northern song. If they had not the outward 
 look, nor came in tlie pomp and circumstance of the an- 
 cient lyric professors, neither were they rewarded with 
 chains of gold, and embossed cups, and costly dresses. 
 The payment they received was more agreeable to their 
 vanity than to their avarice, and the world grew daily 
 more penurious ; for I once heard a person of this de- 
 scription declare that Nithsdale was for him half-a-crown 
 a week worse than when he first knew it. 
 
 Another source of song may be found in those even- 
 ing meetings, or trystos, which for various purposes of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 155 
 
 pleasure or thrift are still popular in the lowlands. 
 They took their name from the purpose for which they 
 were assembled ; and they originated probably in that 
 spirit of good-fellowship and mutual obligation which 
 scripture enjoins, and which our early presbyterian 
 divines pressed so anxiously on their flocks. The 
 pursuits of pastoral or rural life present, it is true, no 
 meetings of rank or of opulent beauty, and no dignified 
 labours, such as beseem knighthood and may be worthy 
 of the courtly IMuse. To card wool, and spin yarn, and 
 acquit themselves in the pressing labours of domestic life, 
 are matters which have a mean soimd, and may seem no 
 very elegant work for those who infused fresh feeling 
 and new spirit into Scottish song. Nevertheless, our 
 assertion is true, and we have the authority of Burns 
 to support us if any support were needed. It was at a 
 " Roking" on Fastern's E'en where he first heard the 
 song of old Lapraik ; and at similar meetings I have not 
 only heard new songs of merit introduced, but curious 
 variations of old ones sung, and very clever opinions 
 expressed on their merits. To such meetings we owe 
 many variations which we have in ballad and in song, 
 which change the sentiment, and alter the narrative, 
 and remove the heroine of the old bard to make room for 
 some district beauty. 
 
 To the sharp encounter among the provincial wits we 
 also owe many curious and felicitous interpolations, hu- 
 morous or sarcastic, of which several examples might 
 be given. The great excellence of all such changes is 
 not so much the now turn which they give to the
 
 156 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 song, as tlie way in which they are wrought into the 
 narrative, and seem to be as natural as a new bough is 
 to a tree. In these meetings it would be idle to seek for 
 that refinement of expression and courtliness of senti- 
 ment Avhich public taste demands now; and yet, amid 
 the rudest of our strains, we have touches of natural 
 delicacy, and verses of as exquisite grace of expression, 
 as are to be found in the more elaborate compositions of 
 the Muse. Talk, it is true, intervened ; and stories and 
 mirth interposed to prevent the evening from becoming 
 tedious by the repetition of lyrics, many of which were 
 old and well known ; and episodical passages of love or 
 recognition would assist in adding variety to the domestic 
 picture, and contribute some of those characteristic charms 
 which a painter uses in emblazoning as with national he- 
 raldry the main object of his composition. Still, however, 
 song was one of the chief spells which called the meetings 
 together, and the genius of the rustic Muse was not more 
 brought into action than the natural good taste and the 
 sweet and exquisite voices of some of the maidens in 
 singing. Scottish song in meetings such as these, I am 
 free to confess, and Avilling to endure the jiity of scien- 
 tific performers for acknowledging, had charms for me 
 which have never been equalled by the more skilful and 
 more accurate warblings of some of the most popular 
 singers in our theatres. There may be some nationality 
 in this, but there can be no mistake in the feeling which 
 the rustic or learned performers excited. I am willing 
 to find a reason for it in the very nature of our northern 
 lyrics. When we hear one of our simple songs full
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 157 
 
 of domestic and huiiiblo love, and illustrated with the 
 imagery supplied by rustic life, warbled amid a multi- 
 tude of people rustling in the richest dresses, and spark- 
 ling in gold and jewels, and diffusing an odour which 
 the united fragrance of several regions produces, we are 
 struck with the singular dissimilitude, and think of the 
 violation of time and place, and the utter want of keep- 
 ing between the character of the song and the audience. 
 But what perhaps is still more injurious to the full 
 effect of the performance, is the departure of the singer 
 from that style of expressive simplicity which echoes 
 back to every bosom the sentiment and feeling of the 
 words, and encumbers the air with a profusion of orna- 
 ment which overlays the poetry. I may also add to this 
 the circumstance of those who perform being, in some 
 degree, obliged to sing to please a manager or an audi- 
 ence rather than their own fancy; and that the head 
 rather than the heart is made to pour out the strain. 
 With less practice and with less knowledge a country 
 maiden will sing us one of the popular strains which the 
 heart of Scotland has of old sighed out to a corresjiond- 
 ing air, and selecting only what she feels, what seems to 
 embalm some sentiment of her own, or presents to her 
 eye some image of enjoyment or of sorrow which has 
 been awakened in her own bosom, she will charm and 
 elevate us by the heart and the passion with which she 
 endows it. If we look around too while the song is 
 singing, we shall see all nature, the hill, the vale, the 
 stream, and the pastoral loveliness of the place, in strict 
 union and keeping with the poetry, and forming a kind
 
 158 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of framework or historical accompaniment, such as Burns 
 beheld on the robe of Coila. Impressions as vivid as 
 these have been frequently excited while I listened to 
 the song of a maiden — herself yet unseen — coming 
 winding and flowing among the broomy knolls and 
 honeysuckled hoUows of my native land ; or when, ac- 
 companied by the shepherd's pipe, she 
 
 Added her sweet voice to the lyric sound. 
 And sang with much simplicity — a merit 
 Not the less precious that we seldom hear it. 
 
 But there are dearer and tenderer meetings than the 
 trystes for labour or for mirth, to which we owe the 
 chief impulse to the composition of song, to which it is 
 indebted for its purity, for its passion, and for all in- 
 deed that elevates it above the mere contention for bread, 
 which man has to hold with the world. The passion of 
 love, which many poets have sung and few sung well, 
 infuses a poetic spirit into many minds and hearts, and 
 compels them to burst out for relief into involuntary 
 song. The great proportion of our lyrics presents this 
 passion under all the varieties of pleasure or of pain 
 which it inflicts on mankind. They contain a record 
 of love adventures, often very wild, impressive, and ro- 
 mantic, rather than an exhibition of fine sayings and 
 pointed sentiments. Sentiments, indeed, often lofty and 
 generally tender and delicate, are found to mingle with 
 the history of the midnight watchings and the joy of the 
 stolen interviews. The youth — the peasant youth of
 
 SCOTTISH sc)N(;s. 159 
 
 Scotland — are devoted servants to the fair, and their love 
 adventures, amid a wild and picturesque country, during 
 the storms of a winter or the gentleness of a summer 
 night, encountering the wiles or the strength of rivals and 
 the caprice of those ^vhose love they seek, present abun- 
 dant materials for poetry and romance. Many of our 
 lyrics have been composed during these nocturnal ex- 
 cursions ; and a wild night and a haunted road, a deep 
 stream and a desert moor, stand in the way like so many 
 impediments in the path of a knight errant of old, which 
 it was meritorious and honourable to overcome. But 
 the wild night and all the dangers of the way, natural or 
 supernatural, are forgtjtten Avhen the lover approaches the 
 home of his mistress, and sees the warning light at her 
 window, or meets her at the appointed place of tryste. 
 Aiid it may be well if to a wann heart and a persuasive 
 tongue he adds a strong arm and good courage, for many 
 a handsome maiden Avould think her charms unworthy 
 of song if they brought but a solitary admirer. In 
 humble life as well as in high, there is an archness and 
 a coquetry which is soothed and gratified by variety of 
 admiration. A maiden has been known to summon on 
 a time her numerous lovers around her, among whom 
 she presided for a Avhole evening, with comic gravity of 
 satisfaction at the extent of her dominion, distributing 
 her smiles and her glances in a way which bade all hope 
 and none despair. 
 
 In the first outburst of young afix-'ction there is a 
 poetic exaltation of heart and soul, a romantic enthu- 
 siasm, which invests its mistress with a beauty and a
 
 160 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 loveliness which men of soberer spirits may not readily 
 see in the original. When this enthusiasm is poured 
 out in song, and the finest songs are perhaps the fruit 
 of these first inspirations, men go in quest of the lady 
 who performed the enchantment, and exclaim with 
 Moore, 
 
 What an impostor genius is. 
 
 I believe in the influence of beauty over the Muse, and 
 I imagine that in many of our songs I behold an express 
 and modest image of many a Caledonian dame. But I 
 have seen so much of the caprice of those spirits who 
 enchant us with their songs, how they lavished all the 
 allurements of verse and the choicest colours of nature 
 upon very ordinary subjects, that I am almost induced to 
 conclude that more of our best lyrics are prompted by 
 women, on whom Dr. Johnson would have declared poesie 
 had no charms to bestow, than I dare presume to name. 
 He can indeed be no true poet who has not already en- 
 shrined in his heart and fancy diviner images of female 
 beauty than nature readily supplies him with. He sits not 
 doAvn, like one about to make a portrait, to limn his mis- 
 tress off; his pictures of beauty are aerial images of 
 grace and loveliness conceived in his own fancy, and 
 coloured more with the hues of heaven than of earth. 
 By this rare faculty he hallows and ennobles all he 
 chooses to touch, and endows ordinary forms and common 
 minds with the shapes and riches of fancy. Much of 
 this mistempered warmth is cooled as poets advance in 
 life, and song is sobered down into domestic discretion
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 161 
 
 and matron-like mildness, and the austere composure of 
 beauty. 
 
 But I have no need to seek in trystes or meetings 
 of either love, or labour, or merriment, for the sources 
 of song: a farmer or a cottager's winter fire-side has 
 often been the theme and always the theatre of lyric 
 verse ; and the gray hairs of the old, and the glad looks 
 of the young, may aptly prefigure out the two great 
 divisions of Scottish song — the songs of true love, and 
 those of domestic and humble joy. The character of the 
 people is written in their habitations. Their kitchens, 
 or rather halls, warm, roomy, and well-replenished with 
 furniture fashioned less for show than service, are filled 
 on all sides with the visible materials and tokens of 
 pastoral and agricultural Avealth and abundance. The 
 fire is on the floor, and around it, during the winter 
 evenings, the family and dependants are disposed, each 
 in their own department, one side of the house being oc- 
 cupied by the men, the other resigned to the mistress 
 and her maidens : while beyond the fire, in the space 
 between the hearthstone and the wall, are placed those 
 travelling mendicants who wander from house to house, 
 and find subsistence as they can, and lodgings where 
 they may. The carved oaken settle or couch on Avhich 
 the farmer rests has descended to him through a num- 
 ber of generations ; it is embossed with rude thistles, 
 and rough with family names ; and the year in which it 
 was made has been considered an era worthy of the ac- 
 companiment of a motto from Scripture. On a shelf 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 above him, and within reacli of his hand, are some of the 
 works of the literary worthies of his country : the history, 
 the romance, the sermon, the poem, and the song, all 
 well used, and bearing token of many hands. Among 
 them also are some of the elder worthies, divines, and 
 graver poets of England: and if the productions of 
 Wordsworth be not there, it is only because they have 
 but lately come to a price within a prudent poor man's 
 reach ; for I know of no works more deeply impressed 
 with the simple pathos and devout aspirations so dear 
 to the peasantry of our land. If I add to these the 
 sibylline leaves of song which the idle native Muses 
 scattered so largely in the form that suited alike the 
 plowman's pocket and purse, and which were again dis- 
 persed weekly, or rather daily, over the land, by a mul- 
 titude of dealers in cheap tales and romances and bal- 
 lads, I may say I have completed the picture of the 
 " Goodman's" side of the house, and may turn myself 
 to the other, where I left the mistress presiding among 
 her daughters and menials. 
 
 Around the farmer's dame the evening has gathered 
 all her maidens whom daylight had scattered about in 
 various employments, and the needle and the ^vheel are 
 busied alike in the labours required for the barn and the 
 hall. Above and beside them, all that the hand and 
 the wheel have twined from fleece and flax is hung in 
 good order: the wardrobe is filled with burn-bleached 
 linen, the dairy shelves with cheese for daily use, and 
 with some made of a richer cnrd to grace the table at
 
 SCOTTISH SON (is. IGtJ 
 
 the harvest-feast. Over nil and amonjr them the pru- 
 (l(>nt and experienced mi.stress, while she manages some 
 .small personal matter of her own, casts from time to 
 time her ej^e, and explains or advises, or hearkens to the 
 song which is not silent amid the lapses of conversation. 
 In households such as these, which present an image of 
 our more primitive days, all the delights, and joys, and 
 pursuits of our forefathers find refuge ; to them Hallow- 
 eve is welcome with its mysteries, the new year with its 
 mirth, the summer with its sheep-shearing feast, and 
 the close of harvest with its dancing and its revelry. 
 The increasing refinement and opulence of the com- 
 munity has made this rather a picture of times past 
 than times present ; and the labour of u score of wheels, 
 each with its presiding maiden, is far outdone by a single 
 turn or two of a machine. The once slow and simple 
 process of bleaching, by laving water on the linen as 
 it lay extended on the rivulet bank, is accomplished 
 now by a chemical process ; and the curious art of dyeing- 
 wool, and the admixture of various colours to form those 
 party-coloured garments so much in fashion among us of 
 old, have been entrusted to more scientific hands. Out 
 of these, and many other employments now disused and 
 formed into separate callings, song extracted its images 
 and illustrations, and caught the hue and the pressure 
 of passing manners, and customs, and pursuits. 
 
 From these and a thousand other sources of pleasure or 
 seriousness our numerous lyrics have arisen, and it would 
 be much more curious than useful to trace all the way- 
 
 M 2
 
 1G4 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ward steps of fugitive song, and draw with an exact and 
 discriminating hand the changing character and varying 
 condition of our peasantry- In a history of Scottish 
 song, much must be decided by judicious conjecture, 
 much must be gathered from the internal evidence of 
 verse, much collected from an extensive knowledge of 
 northern literature, and when all is found that exists, 
 and all is arranged that research can supply or judg- 
 ment suggest, there wiU yet be many chasms in the 
 narrative, and many periods when the light of song is 
 lost in darkness, or scarcely visible in eclipse. The 
 current of song has not always been poured forth in 
 an unceasing and continued stream : like the rivulets of 
 the north, which gush out into ri^^ers during the season 
 of rain, and subside and dry up to a few reluctant drops 
 in the parching heat of summer, it has had its seasons of 
 overflow and its periods of decrease. Yet there have 
 ever been invisible spirits at work, scattering over the 
 land a regular succession of lyrics, more or less impressed 
 with the original character of the people, the produc- 
 tions of random inspiration, expressing the feelings and 
 the story of some wounded heart, or laughing out in the 
 fullest enjoyment of the follies of man and the pleasant 
 vanities of woman. From them, and from poets to 
 whose voice the country has listened in joy, and whose 
 names are consecrated by the approbation of genera- 
 tions, many exquisite lyrics have been produced which 
 find an echo in every heart, and are scattered wherever 
 a British voice is heard or a British foot imprinted.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 165 
 
 Wherever our sailors have borne our thunder, our sol- 
 diers our strength, and our merchants our enterprise, 
 Scottish song has followed, and awakened a memory of 
 the northern land amid the hot sands of Egypt and the 
 frozen snows of Siberia. The lyric voice of Caledonia 
 has penetrated from side to side of the eastern regions 
 of spice, and has gratified some of the simple hordes of 
 roving Indians with a melody equalling or surpassing 
 their own. Amid the boundless forests and mighty lakes 
 and rivers of the western world, the songs which glad- 
 dened the hills and vales of Scotland have been awakened 
 again by a kindred people, and the hunter as he dives 
 into the wilderness, or sails down the Ohio, recalls 
 his native hills in his retrospective strain. These are 
 no idle suppositions which enthusiasm creates for na- 
 tional vanity to repeat. For the banks of the Ganges, 
 the Ohio, and the Amazons, for the forests of America, 
 the plains of India, and the mountains of Peru, or 
 IVIexico, for the remotest isles of the sea, the savage shores 
 of the north, and the classic coasts of Asia or Greece, 
 I could tell the same story which the Englishman told, 
 who heard, two hundred years ago, the song of Both- 
 well Bank sung in the land of Palestine. 
 
 The darkest night will draw to day, and the longest 
 introduction, whether to verse or prose, must come to a 
 conclusion. The continued account of our song, and 
 the critical examination of its excellences and its fail- 
 ings, will be mingled with the characters, which I now 
 proceed to delineate, of the most eminent of our lyric
 
 166 SCOTTISH SONCiS. 
 
 poets. I shall endeavour to speak as I feel ; for all 
 criticism resolves itself into that at last^ and all rules 
 are made from emotion, whether of pain or of pleasure. 
 The poet makes the critic, not the critic the poet : he 
 Avhose productions live longest and give the most plea- 
 sure is probably the greatest genius ; and it is from what 
 lie makes men feel, that they make rules for measuring 
 the genius of others. But each nation has an original 
 spirit and power of its own, a way of attaining excel- 
 lence in its own eyes, difterent in some degree from that 
 of its neighbours ; a manner of expressing its joys, its 
 sorrows, its anger, or its fears, Avhich marks it out among 
 the nations ; and of these peculiarities will its literature, 
 if it be written with a free and unconstrained heart, 
 more or less partake. I am therefore of opinion, that 
 with a strict reference to a nation's peculiarities, all its 
 works of genius should be judged. The women of 
 Greece, if we may decide from the exquisite marbles 
 ^vhich have escaped the barbarians, had a loveliness of 
 another kind from that which distinguishes the beauties 
 of Britain ; but I feel as a Scotchman, and though I 
 cannot but believe the women of the east to have been 
 eminently loAely, I have no wish that the loveliness of 
 tliis country sliould be less divine than it is. Genius is 
 as a star that can only be examined by its own light.
 
 * 
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. Ifi? 
 
 JAMES THE FIFTH. 
 
 Our knowledge of the lyric genius of the Common's 
 King we owe to tradition, which, mutable in many 
 things, has been so consistent in this, that its words 
 have become history. That he was the author of the 
 Gaberlunyie-man there can be little doubt ; and its 
 com})auion, the Jollie Beggar, though less delicate, 
 seems the offspring of the same mind and of the same 
 train of thought. They are both productions of great 
 merit — remarkable for their roguish humour and free- 
 dom of expression, and for their lively and drama-like 
 presentation of character and story : they are strictly 
 of that kind of poetry which I consider as the natural 
 offspring of the soil — which owes nothing to classic lore, 
 but is called into existence by some strong impulse, and 
 wins its way to popular favour by reflecting a vigorous 
 image of homely life. I must, however, suppose that 
 these favourite songs owe some of their influence to the 
 royal hand that wrote them. We imagine, while singing 
 the songs of James Stuart, that we are singing of his 
 adventures also : we see the gallant monarch, Avith 
 his horn by his side and his belted knights near, in the 
 Jollie Beggar ; and in the Gaberlunyie-man, we think 
 more of the monarch than of any of his subjects. I 
 know not where to seek for a livelier picture of joy than 
 is exhibited by the mother when " she danced her lane, 
 and cried. Praise be blest ;" or more real and ludicrous
 
 168 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 naivete than the surprise of the maiden when she ima- 
 gined she had obliged a mendicant instead of the laird 
 of Brodie. 
 
 It has been observed of these two ancient lyrics, that 
 they give us gross and sensual pictures of life, and can- 
 not well be read aloud without shame, or sung without a 
 blush. To wish them otherwise than they are is either 
 to wish they had never existed, or that they had uttered 
 their wickedness with a holier tongue. That we wish 
 such spots removed from the white garments of the Muse, 
 is a proof that our taste is different from that of our 
 ancestors ; but no proof that we are right, and that they 
 were wrong. The simplicity of former times, and the 
 frank directness of conversation, allowed greater latitude 
 of expression to the Muse. The daughter of Henry the 
 Seventh permitted a poet of her husband's court to 
 address her in a style of audacious freedom, which her 
 son has not surpassed in his songs expressly dedicated 
 to nocturnal adventure and rustic intrigue among the 
 daughters of his subjects. The statue which our an- 
 cestors loved to see in simple and unattired beauty, we 
 cannot look upon without drapery reaching from neck 
 to feet. 
 
 Old times are changed, old manners gone. 
 
 Yet no change of manners, or evolutions of time, will 
 much affect poetry which is founded in nature — and 
 this makes the lyrics of the king as fresh and lively and 
 intelligible as they were when they were composed.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. IG9 
 
 ALEXANDER SCOTT. 
 
 Gay, and light, and elegant beyond most poets of his 
 time, Alexander Scott sang with much more sweetness 
 than strength, and was more anxious after the smooth- 
 ness of his numbers than the natural beauty of his sen- 
 timents : he floAvs smooth, but he seldom flows deep ; he 
 is refined and delicate, but has little vigour and no pas- 
 sion. Yet his verses are exceedingly pleasing — they are 
 melodious, with meaning in their melody, and possess in 
 no small degree that easy and gliding-away grace of ex- 
 pression, of which the old minstrel vaunted : — 
 
 Forbye how sweet my numbers flow. 
 And slide away like water ! 
 
 In acknowledging the skill of Scott in lyric composi- 
 tion, and uniting with my friend David Laing in ad- 
 miring the ease and happiness of his versification, I can- 
 not be insensible that his songs, with all their elegance, 
 have little of the romantic ardour of exalted love, or 
 present, amid their grace and fluency, any very original 
 or moving pictures of domestic life or enthusiastic attach- 
 ment. The songs of James the Fifth and his subject, 
 Scott, are as diff'erent in their nature as their reception 
 has been with the Avorld. The former, full of visible 
 life and jollity and enjoyment, with life's-blood in them 
 for a thousand years, have descended to us without any
 
 170 SCOTTISH SDNCiS. 
 
 loss of their original brightness^ and still rival the works 
 of more admired poets. The latter have already become 
 half obsolete — are faded and gone^ like the green hun- 
 tresses in an ancient tapestry : they speak a language to 
 which few hearts respond, and are consigned, in spite 
 of all their polish and their melody, to the place over 
 which oblivion reigns. It requires no divination to find 
 out the cause of this : it is the triumph of vigorous na- 
 ture over the polished dexterity of art — the upshot of 
 that contest which sometimes takes place between a court 
 beauty, "with patches, paint, and jewels on," and the 
 easy and natural and becoming grace of some uncon- 
 scious piece of country loveliness, whose beauty charms 
 us by the very absence of the supplemental attractions 
 of her rival. The one is encumbered by her finery, and 
 is merely an auxiliary to the magnificence of her own 
 dress ; Avhile the other moves in the freedom of nature, 
 and all that is about her becomes her as much as light 
 becomes the morning. Scott sometimes falls into a la- 
 boriousness of alliteration, like other poets of his time, 
 but he never degenerates into allegory. — I wish his 
 strength equalled his simplicity. 
 
 ALEXANDER i\fONTGOMERY. 
 
 Montgomery deserves more notice than he has ob- 
 tained ; he was long spoken of, but seldom read : and I 
 am willing to believe that the fortunate abuse of Pin- 
 kerton contributed to his fame by arming in his behalf
 
 SCOTTISH SOiNGS. 171 
 
 all the lovers of old Scottish song. The cast of his genius 
 is lyrical — there is a sweetness and a liquid motion 
 about even his most elaborate productions, and one can- 
 not easily avoid chanting many passages on perusal. 
 His thoughts are ready, his images at hand, and his 
 illustrations natural and apt. His language is ever 
 flowing, felicitous, and abundant. His foults are the 
 faults of the times. — Printing had opened the treasures 
 of ancient lore ; and all our compositions were speckled 
 and spotted with classical allusions. He embalms con- 
 ceits in a stream of melody, and seeks to consecrate 
 anew the faded splendour of the heathen mythology. 
 Such idle display of scholarship was less affected then 
 than it would be now. To glance, as the stream of story 
 flows along, at old glory and at ancient things, is very 
 well when happily managed and not dwelt upon ; but 
 Venus can only come into courtships now to be laughed 
 at, and the most reasonable god in all the mythology 
 will abate rather than increase the interest of any living 
 poet's song. 
 
 ]\Iontgomery could not resist the allurements of the 
 scholastic Dalilah : he seems rather to have been in- 
 spired by books than moved into voluntary numbers by 
 the silent influence of nature ; and his learning oA^erlays 
 his better powers, as ground may be made unproductive 
 by too much manure — the fatness spoils the seed which 
 is sown. It was perhaps his misfortune that he was 
 learned. He is fond of allegory, and more fond than 
 fortunate in using it : like all those who give way to 
 such puerile temptation, he becomes too dark to impart
 
 172 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 pleasure, and too mystical for instruction. For the want 
 of human interest — for the absence of the sons and 
 daughters of men — no beauty of invention can atone : 
 if beauty could bring readers, [Montgomery scatters it 
 with a ready and liberal hand. 
 
 He is full of chivalrous admiration of the ladies ; and 
 tas put himself, for the love of the lady Margaret Mont- 
 gomery, through a series of lyrical ordeals, from distant 
 awe down to closer admiration, from vague fear to agony 
 without hope. The elegant and varied praise with which 
 he followed her was such as few ladies might withstand, 
 if they ever allowed their hearts to be touched by the 
 witchery of verse. But their prudence is proof against 
 the magic of poetry : the flush of youth and the glow of 
 health seek less ethereal delights than verse, and few 
 young ladies are carried oflF their balance by the tide of 
 song. I know not how the lady Margaret received or 
 rewarded his homage ; yet had he been successful, vanity 
 could not have kept silence. 
 
 Montgomery has been praised, and justly, for the 
 purity of his English ; but his wish to write in a courtly 
 and polished style made him wrong his natural powers. 
 He had genius equal to the task of using his native lan- 
 guage in a graceful and dignified manner : had he done 
 this, his fate as a poet might have been widely different ; 
 it would indeed have confined his fame to Scotland, but 
 the admiration of our native land may fill up the mea- 
 sure of a very respectable ambition. His enthusiasm for 
 all that was beautiful and pure, and his sympathy in the 
 scenery and characters and manners of his native land.
 
 SCOTTISH SON(iS. 173 
 
 would then have flowed out in language such as would 
 not readily perish. As he is, so must we take him. I 
 have endeavoured to modernize several of his lyrics ; 
 and if I have had any success, it has been more owing 
 to good fortune than meditation. Those who wish to 
 taste the spirit of IMontgomery, pure and unmingled, 
 must go to my friend David Laing, whose beautiful 
 and complete edition of the poet's works will enable them 
 to drink at the fountain-head, and be refreshed. 
 
 SIR ROBERT AYTON. 
 
 Sir Robert Ayton, secretary to the Scottish queens 
 JMary and Anne, is one of the fortunate poets who have 
 obtained a reputation by one lucky or judicious effort— 
 by obeying one of those vagrant fits of inspiration, 
 Avhich, like the flower of the aloe, comes but once in a 
 lifetime to some, while to others, under a happier dis- 
 pensation, they return as regular as the light of day. 
 But he is well worthy of his fame, were it higher ; for 
 his song to a Forsaken Mistress is one of the sweetest 
 and happiest of our early compositions. It has the sin- 
 gular merit of uniting natural elegance of language with 
 originality of thought, and wholesome counsel with fe- 
 licity of diction. We have the story of woman's levity, 
 and of man's sympathy, related in a way which has 
 been rarely equalled, and which must be felt by all who 
 can feel for the modest dignity of ofi'ended love. It was 
 on this song that Burns, \vith a superfluous sympathy.
 
 174 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 bestowed a Scottish ilress^ and thought he had improved 
 tlie simplicity. It was one of the least lucky of all his 
 attempts at emendation, for it was not easy to augment 
 the simplicity ; nor has he done it : — it was easier to 
 pass over it a careless and less gentle hand, and impair 
 the elegance and lofty sympathy with which it closes. 
 
 All who read the Forsaken Mistress will be grieved 
 to think, that the poet who could charm us so much in 
 his native tongue should have poured the stream of his 
 fancy into the dark regions of Latin verse, and laboured, 
 like Buchanan, to make the world feel his genius in a 
 language which only a few of the opulent understood. I 
 cannot imagine how a man can hope to write felicitously 
 out of his mother tongue : by what spell is he to be pos- 
 sessed with all the proverbial turnings and windings of 
 language, all those meltings of word into word — those 
 gradations of meaning direct and implied, which give a 
 deeper sense than they seem to bear, and assist in the 
 richness and the strength of composition ? The language 
 may be learned, and words may be meted out in heroic 
 or lyric quantities by the aid of a discreet ear ; but such 
 verses will want the original flavour of native poetry — 
 the leaf will come without the fragrance, and the blossom 
 without the fruit. I may mention that the Forsaken 
 JMistress seems to unite the two characteristics of Scottish 
 and English song ; there is story mingled with senti- 
 ment — the fonuer without prolixity, and the latter with- 
 out conceit. I cannot always say so much for either the 
 one or the other when they come separate.
 
 SCOTTISH soNt;s, 175 
 
 FRANCIS SEMPLE. 
 
 Tradition of late has provided authors for some of our 
 favourite songs ; and since authentic history declines 
 to chronicle those who furnish matter for present and 
 future mirth, I can see no harm in accepting the aid of 
 traditionary remembrance. On such authority, aided by 
 the less doubtful testimony of family papers, P^ancis 
 Semple of Beltrees has obtained the reputation of 
 writing three popular songs, "■ The blythesome Bridal," 
 " Maggie Lauder," and " She rose and loot me in." I 
 have heard the tradition, but I have not seen the family 
 manuscripts ; and though I am not obliged to believe 
 what I cannot with certainty contradict, yet I have no 
 right to discredit what honest men have seriously as- 
 serted : the story has been years before the world, and if 
 any be sceptical, they are also silent. Semple is of itself 
 a worthy name — I am glad tradition has taken its part : 
 besides, we owe much poetic pleasure to the ancestors of 
 Francis, who wrote, like their descendant, with great 
 ease and freedom ; and why should not the mantle 
 descend ? 
 
 Whoever ^vrote these three popular songs, I confess I 
 prefer his humour to his seriousness, his mirth to his 
 gravity. There is a certain air of heaviness about " She 
 rose and loot me in," which is thrown off, as the morning 
 sun throws off the cloud, when the festive subjects of 
 " The blythesome Bridal" and " Maggie Lauder" are 
 presented to his fancy. Theywho are offended by the
 
 17G SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 uncontrollable liumour and broad glee of the latter can- 
 not fail to be captivated by the admirable naivete and 
 ■\vitty grace of the former. Even the controversy which 
 the lass of Anster Town has occasioned has helped to 
 proclaim her name and attractions to the world. " It is 
 a song of more than dubious meaning," quoth Gravity; 
 " and more is meant than meets the ear." " It is a lyric 
 full of harmless merriment/' answers Mirth ; " and what 
 can be dubious in the din of a bagpipe and the dancing 
 of a maiden ?" " Her garments are too high kilted," 
 says Chastity, " and her dancing on a lonesome burn 
 bank to the music of a strolling piper is very indecorous." 
 " Ah ! but she's a pleasant lass," replies Humour : " her 
 strapping limb and gawcie middle would make gray- 
 heads wish to be young — Decorous! I wish all our 
 ladies were as decorously employed as in wagging their 
 limbs to the sound of a merry melody." " JMake no 
 personal reflections," quoth Hypocrisy : — and so the ball 
 is kept flying, and the fame of Maggie Lauder is ever in 
 the air. 
 
 " The blythesome Bridal" gathers together many sin- 
 gular characters, and prepares a dinner fit only for the 
 entertainment of such guests. Smollett's feast in the 
 manner of the ancients is unworthy to be compared to it ; 
 for none save the entertainer could enjoy a meal with an 
 antique flavour strong enough to have smothered Lu- 
 cullus. The viands of Semple are in strict conformity 
 with the culinary fancy and practice of old Caledonia ; 
 and the guests and the dishes are the whimsical but na- 
 tive produce of the country. We have no other song or
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 177 
 
 story which spreads such a remarkable feast for such ex- 
 traordinary people. That the poet has drawn a lu- 
 dicrous company, and dished out a dinner more for men 
 to laugh at than enjoy, is perfectly true, and in that lies 
 much of the beauty. A bridegroom must be curious in 
 uncouth companions who invited to his wedding all the 
 queer characters of the county ; and very particular in 
 his taste, if he had for his banquet all the strange dishes 
 \vhich his knowledge of cookery, ^vritte^ and oral, could 
 prescribe. But the poet is one person, and the bride- 
 groom another : what gives the former enjoyment, will give 
 the latter pain : the matter which fills the fancy of the 
 one with images of humour and drollery, will make the 
 other sigh and repine : no bridegroom would wish to pre- 
 side among such a motley squad, but any poet would be 
 proud of having painted them. It is the province of 
 poetic mirth to gather such strange sticks together, and 
 tie them with party-coloured thread. The company and 
 their feast are beyond the reach of any art save poetry : 
 even Wilkie could not paint fadges and brochan, and 
 the rich odour which ascended from the bridal dinner ; 
 nor could Chantrey carve Madge, that was buckled to 
 Steenie,nor Kirsh with the lily-white leg, and the strange 
 way in which her misfortune befel. 
 
 The freedom Avith which some of the characters are 
 drawn has gone far to exclude the song from company 
 which calls itseli" polished. I quarrel not with mat- 
 ters of taste — but taste is a whimsical thing. Ladies 
 of all ranks will gaze by the dozen and the hour on the 
 unattired grace and proportion of the old statues, and 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 feel them o'er, like the wondering miUer in Ramsay's 
 exquisite tale, lest glamour had beguiled their een ; but 
 the colour will come to their cheeks, and the fans to 
 their faces, at some over warm words in our old min- 
 strels : whatever is classical is pure. They are a strange 
 and a deluding sex ; their tastes to-day, and their dis- 
 likes to-morrow, 
 
 let learned clerks explain. 
 They pass the wit of simple swain. 
 
 WILLIAM WALKINSHAW. 
 
 " Willie was a wanton Wag," one of our popular 
 songs, has been long ascribed by tradition to Walkin- 
 shaw of Walkinshaw, near Paisley ; and as tradition in 
 this matter can neither be confirmed nor contradicted, I 
 must accept general concurrence for certainty, and give 
 that gentleman the authorship of one of our most original 
 songs. Whoever was the author, no one ever conceived 
 a more original lyric, or filled up the outlines of his 
 conception with more lucky drollery, more lively flashes 
 of native humour, or brighter touches of human cha- 
 racter. Willie is indeed the first and last of his race : 
 no one has imitated him, and he imitated none. He is 
 a surpassing personage, an enthusiast in merriment, a 
 prodigy in dancing ; and his careless graces and natural 
 gifts carry love and admiration into every female bosom. 
 The eulogium of the bride equals a certificate of cha- 
 racter by the parish minister; his rajiidity in com-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 170 
 
 municating pleasure seems as quick as the difFusion of 
 light ; and yet all this, so welcome to the bride, and so 
 agreeable to the lasses, in general, costs him no effort — 
 to please is natural to him : his careless ease and buoyant 
 happiness of manner, his wanton leg and his roguish 
 look, become him as fruit becomes the tree, or light the 
 moon. The very " tag" at his shoulder has something 
 talismanic about it. 
 
 That our poet's glee sometimes hovers on the debate- 
 able land between propriety and indelicacy, I am not 
 disposed to deny ; but if the light of his genius, like 
 that of the will-o'-wisp, glimmers over the mire, it 
 never falls into it. The author has drawn the whole 
 \vedding scene with such fidelity and resemblance to 
 life, that we see it revealed before us fresh and moving : 
 there laugh the lasses, there blinks the bride, and there 
 the " lag" bridegroom yields up the contest with the 
 inimitable Willie, who, like the general spirit of fun and 
 life, shines out in the midst, and animates and inspires 
 them. Since tradition has helped this song to an author, 
 I wish it had done as much for " Andrew wi' his 
 cutty Gun," and " Tibbie Fowler o' the Glen," songs of 
 kindred spirit, and rivals in humour and naivete, and 
 every Avay worthy of finding fathers in some sponsible 
 personage. 
 
 ALLAN RAMSAY. 
 
 In Allan Ramsay I see the great successor to the 
 royal race of bai'ds, who laid the foundation of the rustic 
 
 n2
 
 180 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 or national poetry of Scotland, in Peblis to the Play, 
 Christ's Kirk on the Green, and the Gaberlunyie Man ; 
 and I see more, I see in him the restorer of song, and 
 the first who strove to redeem from oblivion, or rescue 
 from the changeful memory of tradition, the ancient 
 lyrics of the nation. In the passion, enthusiasm, and 
 elegance of lyric composition, he has been far indeed 
 surpassed; but he has never been surpassed in rustic 
 glee, frank, manly humour, and in his happy groupings 
 of humble life. He is warm, over warm perhaps, in some 
 of his addresses to beauty, and less delicate than a poet 
 now would desire to be who wishes to be published in 
 that sweetest of all ways of publication, by the lips of 
 the ladies. He may be justly accused also of being much 
 too blunt and direct in his mode of wooing, and far too 
 plain and too honest for negotiating in lyric verse with 
 a court lady now : he dispenses with all chivalrous cere- 
 mony of approach, and never moves for a moment in the 
 parallel lines which modesty and fear have laid down for 
 lovers to walk in. Yet I am judging him too strictly 
 when I try him by the present gazette standard of 
 female delicacy and fashion. He was once amazingly- 
 popular, with high-born dames as well as with humble ; 
 and I am not to suppose, that in the year of grace, 1724, 
 the ladies were less virtuous in conduct than at present. 
 They spoke with some freedom when they allowed poets 
 to sing such unceremonious strains. 
 
 In all he writes there is a large measure of enjoyment, 
 and he sings from the fulness and overflowing of mirth 
 and humom-. What he sees, he sees for himself ; living
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 181 
 
 life is ever present to his eye, and he has made himself 
 intimate with nature in all her femiliar varieties. He 
 sings of domestic love and fireside enjoyment like one 
 who knows what charms a kind wife and promising 
 children cast over a susceptible heart ; and he loves to 
 paint the ridiculous pretensions of age to the warmth 
 and animation of youth, to extract mirth and amusement 
 out of the follies of gray heads, and to make the AVords 
 of love drop as cold from their lips as rain from a winter 
 cloud. He pours out his humour till delicacy cries 
 enough ; he shows so much of the white legs of his rustic 
 beauties that all their descendants grieve for the scanti- 
 ness of longitude in their grandmothers' garments ; and 
 he dishes out domestic life in sauce too savoury for the 
 prudent dames of the present generation. He forgets 
 nature sometimes for the sake of foreign gods, 
 
 And lays his lugs in Pindus spring, 
 And invocates Apollo. 
 
 He had little tenderness, and little elevation of senti- 
 ment ; he had raptured moments, but they were those 
 'of ordinary peasants. His ease was the ease of nature, 
 and his gift lay in grouping rustic characters, in seizing 
 on the infirm and ridiculous side of human life : he had 
 less power in personating sweet and austere female mo- 
 desty and grace, or in painting tlie gentle but wayward 
 emotions of the bosom. 
 
 In his restorations of ancient song he has been some- 
 times singularly unhappy ; lie inherited little of the gift
 
 IS2 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 of creating new verses in the spirit and feeling of the 
 old, when the starting train of thought required eleva- 
 tion or purity. In the song of Bessie Bell and Mary- 
 Gray he has despised the plaintive warning of the old 
 commencing words, and offered violence to one of our 
 most moving and romantic stories, by infusing mirth in- 
 stead of sadness, and gaiety for simple pathos. But his 
 fortune is far otherwise when he has mirth or humour 
 for his companions ; he renews the laugh, and renovates 
 the glee, and revives the humour, with a skill and an 
 earnestness which have never been surpassed, and but 
 rarely equalled. 
 
 It has been for some time the practice to upbraid Allan 
 
 with negligence in collating, and want of sympathy in 
 
 editing ancient songs ; his accusers forget that lie was 
 
 the first who made the attempt, and that without his 
 
 aid we might have had nothing where we have much — 
 
 that he was a daily labourer for his bread, and had not 
 
 leisure to go in quest of the torn and bleeding members 
 
 of old song ; that he rescued many from certain oblivion, 
 
 we have the evidence of liis works ; but that he threw 
 
 willingly away any of our beautiful antique lyrics for 
 
 the sake of fiUing their place with his own, we have no 
 
 assurance save surmise. He says, indeed, that feeling 
 
 assured how acceptable new songs to known tunes would 
 
 prove, he had made verses for more than sixty, and thirty 
 
 more were done by ingenious young gentlemen. But 
 
 Allan, with all his vanity — and he had a reasonable 
 
 share — and with all his imperfect taste — and he was not 
 
 ^vithout it— had far too keen a sense of the beauties of
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 183 
 
 song to cast any productions of merit away. Songs of 
 genius protect themselves against duller rivals j they 
 Avould have outlived — since they had lived so long — the 
 negligence of any collector, and found safe sanctuary 
 in some of those compilations with which the land was 
 soon inundated. They who seek to believe that up to 
 the time of Ramsay we had many oral lyrics of great 
 antiquity and beauty, imagine also that he has sup- 
 planted them in popular esteem by his own inferior 
 works — that he has buried the old gold to give currency 
 to the baser metal of his own coining. I cannot see how 
 the charge can be either substantiated or disproved, and 
 he must be content to be assailed or defended by those 
 who put harsh or charitable constructions on a passage 
 which is open to both. How far he endeavoured to sup- 
 ply the place of what was lost, correct what was in- 
 delicate, or elevate what was silly, we may inquire in 
 vain. But we may well imagine the song to be gross 
 which Ramsay omitted on account of its indelicacy, and 
 very dull and very weak which he threw away when he 
 was labouring to fill up the craving appetite of volumes. 
 It cannot be denied, that he gave a willing place in his 
 collection to many exquisite old songs — that he pre- 
 served and eked out with more or less happiness many 
 fragments and many choruses ; — and are we to suppose 
 that he denied the like care to any other deserving lyric r 
 Of the many fragments of oral song which it has been 
 my fortune to find, a number of them bear the names 
 and characters of those Avhich have been numbered 
 among the lost favourites of our forefathers — they arc 
 
 ?
 
 184 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 all alike licentious and indiscreet; and if I may judge 
 of those suppressed by those that have survived^ we ought 
 rather to praise Ramsay's good sense than to censure 
 his want of sympathy with the remains of our min- 
 strelsy. 
 
 One of the foremost in bringing this charge against 
 Kamsay was Mr. Ritson, who reproaches him with assist- 
 ing ingenious young gentlemen to supplant the exquisite 
 works of our ancestors. This reproach might have been 
 spared ; since two of Allan's friends in this labour are 
 two of our sweetest lyric poets. Ramsay was certainly 
 no very careful remover of the dust and cobwebs from 
 ancient verse^ and Ritson was as dry and as barren as 
 the other was rash or careless. The latter was a learned 
 and laborious person without the light of genius to guide 
 him amid the gross darkness of antiquarian research ; 
 and the former sought after truth with less solicitude, 
 perhaps, since he was sure of the poet's ^vreath 'if he 
 missed the critic's. The Englishman edited poetry 
 without much sense of its beauty, and watched over the 
 scattered relics of fugitive song with the vigilance of a 
 dragon : the Scotchman lived before this fastidiousness 
 had become a fashion ; while the changes which time 
 was continually making in oral song were of every 
 day occurrence, which he seemed to imitate when he 
 fiUed up the gaps and breaches in old verse with a 
 clever hand, and with an eye that was not more than 
 nice in the choice of materials. Ritson's delight was in 
 mutilated ballads, and he seemed not unwilling to be 
 ])leased sometimes Avith what he did not understand;
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 185 
 
 Ramsay loved no such mystery — he was a phiin man, and 
 relished a well told tale ; and when he came to a difficult 
 passage, he solved it like a poet, by making a verse in its 
 place. If he made mistakes, and sometimes missed the 
 feeling and spirit of the old melodies, he had many 
 beauties to compensate, which were as much beyond the 
 reach of Ritson as the critic's accuracy was beneath the 
 poet's notice. Had Joseph edited the Reliques of Percy, 
 he would have made a work as dreary as a Lincolnshire 
 fen — had he collected the IMinstrelsy of the Border, 
 many of our most exquisite ballads would have remained 
 amid the rubbish which obscured them, and we should 
 have felt in his labours something like the misery of an 
 invasion. The language of Ramsay is still as fresh, and 
 his images of rustic life as living-like, as they were a 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 LADY WARDLAW. 
 
 Neither history nor tradition has preserved any 
 other proof of a genius of a very high order than is 
 contained in the martial and pathetic ballad of Hardy- 
 knute, which both tradition and history combine in 
 ascribing to Lady Wardlaw, daughter of Sir Charles 
 Halkett of Pitferran. From the curiosity of her com- 
 peers or the vanity of her family, some other specimens 
 of her poetic powers might have beeil expected — but 
 whatever was looked for, nothing has come ; and this is 
 only equalled by her own modesty in seeking to confer
 
 186 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 on an earlier age the merit of a production which of 
 itself establishes a very fair reputation. 
 
 ]\Iuch has been said and Avritten against the antiquity 
 of Hardyknute ; for it was published as ancient, and is 
 now become old in the duration of more than a century 
 of controversy ; but notliing has ever been said against 
 its antique simplicity and sweetness, and its vivid 
 imagery and pathetic beauty. Time, which dims the 
 brightness of all that is not rooted deep in nature, has 
 not impaired its lustre ; and the gray-haired grandeur of 
 the hero, and the feminine grace and fondness of Fairlie 
 Fair, are never likely to escape from a reader's or a singer's 
 memory. That it is modern there can be no doubt — the 
 work of the ancient days resembles not the polished 
 grace and the flowing melody of the compositions of the 
 last century. I am, however, inclined to believe that 
 it was founded on the remains of some romantic bal- 
 lad; and that into the story of the old minstrel. Lady 
 Wardlaw poured a spirit and feeling of her own, 
 which communicated all the softer and more amiable 
 qualities of the composition. There are certainly many 
 passages which wear an olden look, and the mutable 
 history of ballad poetry presents in a thousand places 
 such renovations of ancient verse — skeletons upon which 
 the Muse had breathed, recalling them to fresh life 
 and a new existence. To a mind deeply embued with 
 song and ballad, a few fragments would exhibit enough 
 to inspire the finished story, emblazoned in aU the 
 splendour of Scottish romance. Gill Morrice and Tam- 
 lanc ovv^e no little of their present beauty to such
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 187 
 
 loving-kiiulncss, and the variations of song antl ballad 
 conceal many affectionate and cxfjuisito touchings and 
 infusions which add to the fame of our songs ; yet no 
 one ever doubts that the original framework of the story 
 is old — very old. 
 
 WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 
 
 To William Crawford of Auchinames we owe some 
 of our sweetest pastoral lyrics, and he shares in the glory 
 or the shame, as poets or antiquaries speak, of assisting 
 Ramsay with new songs for the old melodies. Though 
 I certainly regard pastoral poetry as a foreign importa- 
 tion — as a sound to which the heart of Scotland has re- 
 turned but a faint echo — I cannot refuse the praise of 
 ereat nature, and tenderness, and truth, to the author of 
 Tweedside and the Bush aboon Traquair. He speaks, 
 it is true, of Flora, and sometimes breathes the luxurious 
 richness of Sicilian landscape over the hills and vales 
 of Scotland; but he gives us mimy sweet images of 
 domestic life— utters many a moving complaint — and 
 watches his flocks in very agreeable company. His 
 pipe, like the pipe of Ramsay, is 
 
 A dainty whistle with a pleasant sound ; 
 
 and it summons to modest love and chaste joy. Like 
 the voice of the cuckoo, it calls us to the green hills, tlu- 
 budding trees, and the rivulet bank ; to the sound of 
 Av'ater and the sight of opening Howcrs.
 
 188 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 It was the fashion of his day to utter pastoral lamenta- 
 tions, and complain of the caprice or the cruelty of 
 shepherdesses. The sorrows of Corydon, and the coy- 
 ness of Phyllis, and all the imaginary woes of artificial 
 existence^ have been woven with much elegance and 
 grace into the many-coloured web of our lyric poetry. 
 This pastoral taint entered not, as far as I am able to 
 discern, into that ever living and natural spirit which 
 supplies, from time to time, many of our most lasting 
 strains: it was the malady of learning rather than of na- 
 ture, the gentle disease of opulence rather than of poverty. 
 They who introduced it and laboured in its support 
 ivere men whom fortune had placed beyond the necessity 
 of daily toil ; and as they had felt the langour of idle- 
 ness, and the misery of having no visible pursuit, they 
 supposed toil to be the sweetest of all dispensations — a 
 shepherd the happiest of living mortals — and his cottage 
 the abode only of pleasure and poetry. They dipt their 
 pens in perfume, and wrote a strain which showered 
 roses among our heather, myrtles among our broom; made 
 our streams run through beds of lilies, and our shep- 
 herds tread on everlasting verdure, and sing under 
 bowers of jasmine and sweet-bleeding myrrh. Their 
 swains wore garlands in their hair, and roses in their 
 shoes, and wooed their nymphs in set speeches about old 
 Pan, and songs about Arcadian groves, and the servi- 
 tude of Apollo to Admetus. 
 
 All this costs little thought^ and less observation. 
 When poetry ceases to echo passion and reflect nature, 
 it may be created like the morning gossamer; but it
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 189 
 
 must be content to be as frail and as fleeting. In com- 
 mon pastoral strains there is little of the truth of life ; 
 the shepherds are only summer swains unacquainted with 
 the hard vicissitudes of seasons — who never sought their 
 flocks amid mist and rain, or dug them out of a snow 
 wreath some three fathoms deep. They are ignorant 
 of the surgery of sheep ; of the diseases which assail, 
 or the vermin which torment them ; and never dream 
 of the fox, the murrain, or the moor-ill. Snow, said the 
 wise man, is beautiful in its season ; but our pastoral 
 poets were not wise men, and snow never descends on 
 their landscape ; and they sigh for a shepherd's life be- 
 cause they think bis slumbers are among roses — that 
 curds and cream are eternally prepared for him by some 
 neat-handed Phyllis — and that he never listens to a 
 more sorrowful sound than the melody of his own pipe. 
 The sharp cold air on a Caledonian mountain Avould 
 freeze such holiday spirits up : to sit with wet feet on 
 a wild hill, and seek shelter in a smoky hovel during the 
 night, and be summoned from slumber by a wind which, 
 instead of coming with frankincense on its wings, comes 
 with ming-led sleet and hail, are facts which seem never 
 to have darkened their dreams. 
 
 The landscape of the natural pastoral IMuse, and the 
 seat where she sings, are of a far different character. A 
 hill of heath, — a stream, half hid, half seen, amid a fringe 
 of rock and hazel, — braes of broom, and mosses waving 
 with canna, and smoke rising at the distance of many 
 miles, to show that man is there, form the scenes of her 
 contemplation. The ruins of an ancient castle, the
 
 190 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 gravestone of some martyred worthy, and the peak of 
 the parish kirk, may mix with these wilder objects, to 
 remind her that she once strung her harp under the 
 security of the sword, that persecution for conscience' 
 sake once visited her pastoral wilderness, and that in 
 her strains she should mix purity with her mirth, and 
 holiness with her joy. The true Muse of native pas- 
 toral seeks not to adorn herself with unnatural orna- 
 ment ; her spirit is in homely love and fireside joy : 
 tender and simple, like the religion of the land, she 
 utters nothing out of keeping with the character of her 
 people and the aspect of the soil — and of this spirit, 
 and of this feeling, Crawford is a large partaker. 
 
 WILLIAM HAMILTON. 
 
 William Hamilton, a scholar and a gentleman, was one 
 of our first lyric poets who sought to communicate a 
 classic grace and courtly decorum to Scottish song. Not 
 that equal grace and as finished courtliness had not been 
 exhibited before, but they were beauties rather of acci- 
 dent than design ; rather the natural or vagrant flowers 
 of the soil than the production of settled thought and 
 deliberate judgment. But the continual wish to be 
 polished and polite interferes Avith passionate thought 
 and the onward flow of emotion; and we have felt, 
 in the sparkling lines of Hamilton, the absence of a 
 ruder, but more expressive poetry, which made its way 
 to the heart without much assistance from the head.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 191 
 
 Prudence will always speak in character; she will be 
 wise — she may be witty — she will utter nothing which 
 is not pure and perhaps instructive : but passion is be- 
 yond all petty restraints; she will speak with vigour 
 and with \varmth ; and as she speaks with the tongue of 
 nature, her words will be happy, and her thoughts akin 
 to inspiration. With the former of these dames, the 
 Muse of Hamilton is content to dwell : she is ever 
 graceful and ever neat ; always wearing the dress which 
 the reigning fashion has established; and all that she 
 sings has been measured out with caution, and examined 
 with a fastidious delicacy. The heart of the poet was 
 more susceptible than ardent ; he seemed, indeed, to be 
 poetically under the influence of beauty, and continually 
 suffering from the caprice or the scorn of some reigning 
 despot, whose charms were equal to the destruction of 
 a whole dynasty of pastoral bards. But he pleased 
 himself, perhaps, with the lovely Actions of his own 
 fancy, and never carried his homage farther than the 
 harmless speculations of elegant verse. 
 
 He has, indeed, been charged with complaining of 
 cruelty which he never felt, and of the influence of love- 
 liness, for which he had no regard. If he obtained in- 
 spiration from beauty on such moderate terms, he is one 
 of the luckiest of all lyrists : he would have been un- 
 wise had he scorched himself, when he only wished for 
 heat ; and he might have been charged with folly had 
 he purchased the tree for the sake of the apple. If he 
 formed an idol from the resources of his own fancy, and 
 clothed it in beauty, and endowed it with all the graces
 
 192 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 that could captivate and enslave, and then fell down 
 and worshipped it, he only did what poetic genius has 
 ever done, when, like the touched imagination of Don 
 Quixote, it creates a goddess out of a very ordinary 
 mortal. 
 
 Amid all the elegance and happy flow and delicate 
 turn of language which distinguish his songs, he fails 
 to make the impression which far less polished works 
 make : he has little from nature ; most from art : 
 there are no unstudied turns of thought — no unsought 
 happinesses of expression. His flow is not the' spon- 
 taneous motion of the stream ; and polish is communi- 
 cated to his verse, like brightness to a key, by repeated 
 handling:. Yet thous-h far from the native truth of 
 Crawford, and wanting the clear original images and 
 vivid portraiture of life and manners which distinguish 
 Ramsay, he excels them both in the exquisite richness 
 of his flattery, the delicacy of his compliments, and the 
 neatness of his praise. He has far more chivalry than 
 any of our earlier poets, but it is a fire which rather 
 smoulders than burns ; and the submission and courtesy, 
 with which he makes his approaches to woman, proceed 
 less from a natural consciousness of her beauty, or a re- 
 verence for her person, than from a sense of etiquette, 
 and a conformity to polished manners. And this may 
 perhaps explain the charge which has been made against 
 him of being insensible in his heart to woman's beauty, 
 even while her praise was on his lips. The language of 
 courtesy was mistaken for that of love ; and when an 
 open declaration of true passion, in plain prose, was
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 193 
 
 expected, the lady was petrified by verse — she snatched 
 at a husband, and filled her arms with bays. 
 
 This awe and submission in the presence of woman, 
 so beautiful and holy when mingled with sincere ten- 
 derness and honest passion, is cold and courtly when it 
 only personates politeness and education. Our older 
 ballads and songs make the charms and the chastity of 
 the fair too subservient to the interest of the story, and 
 are full of unweddcd mothers and dames of dubious 
 fame, who wander in the greenwood and cheer nocturnal 
 lovers under the light of the moon. Of this easy system 
 of morality Hamilton has retained no traces ; but neither 
 has he retained much of the peculiar character of Scottish 
 song. It was the fashion of his day to choose out a mis- 
 tress, real or imaginary, and to pursue her through vale 
 and over hill with the wail and supplication of pastoral 
 verse. This visionary sort of love led often to something 
 purer perhaps, but far less natural, than the love of 
 flesh and blood : we cannot help looking at the shape 
 on which the poet has conferred so many attractions, as 
 we would gaze on an allegory ; and we contemplate her 
 rather as the beau ideal of pastoral sensibility or affecta- 
 tion than as the living hope and joy of man's heart. 
 
 DAVID MALLET. 
 
 The ballad of William and Margaret, and a lyric 
 or two in a less natural spirit, have given more fame 
 to David Mallet than all his elaborated productions. 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 194 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 He wrote at a time when a lucky song or a popular 
 ballad established a poet's fame, and furthered his for- 
 tune by introducing him to the notice of the noble. 
 Had he lived lately, he would have died, like Chatterton, 
 for want of bread — like Burns, in dread of a gaol — or 
 like poor Tannahill, from the daily feeling of poverty 
 and disappointment. That there is no patron to protect 
 the Muse, was, is, and ever will be, the complaint : 
 poets are too proud to sue, and too independent to beg, 
 and refuse to plead the original sin of verse to entitle 
 them to protection and relief: the rich and the noble, 
 on the other hand, whom a wise Providence has made 
 stewards for the poor, refuse to acknowledge poverty 
 that is not clamorous, or want that displays not its rags 
 and its sores. — With them. Poverty should come as one 
 that runneth, and Want as an armed man. 
 
 I have been unable to trace in the other lyrics of 
 Mallet any of that simple mode of expression, or that 
 sweet and antique grace, which have brought so much 
 fame to William and Margaret. The story, suggested 
 by the fragments from which he imagined the song, 
 seems to have possessed him too much to allow him to 
 think of laborious polish or minute embellishment : he 
 has been obliged to relieve his heart from the super- 
 natural spirit of the tale by the charm of natural and 
 inspired verse. I know not where to seek a finer mix- 
 ture of pathos and terror in the whole range of Gothic 
 romance. We feel, while we read, the presence of some- 
 thing unearthly and undefined; and we hear a voice 
 which, like that heard by the prophet, makes all our
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 195 
 
 bones to shake. From the cahn and gentle reproach of the 
 spirit, we imagine the Margaret of flesh and bU)od to 
 have been a meek and sweet tempered being ; and in 
 the request which she makes to have her maiden vow and 
 faith returned, we remark the presence of an old super- 
 stition which allowed no repose to the living or to the 
 dead till all ineffectual pledges or tokens were again 
 exchanged. 
 
 Into this simple story and native style of composi- 
 tion the feelings of Mallet seem to have glided, as sap 
 ascends the tree, to reanimate and cover it with beauty. 
 Yet the polished and colder and less graphic style of 
 verse must have warred against the remains of this 
 Scottish taste, when he was induced to make some 
 alterations which not only lessen the simplicity, but 
 impair the terror which the story inspires. At first he 
 caught up the starting note of the old fragments, and 
 sang — 
 
 When all was wrapt in dark midnight. 
 And all was fast asleep. 
 
 He afterwards thought this " too naked of ornament and 
 simple," and changed it to— - 
 
 'Twas at the silent solemn hour, 
 When night and morning meet. 
 
 Now this emendation not only contradicts all belief, 
 
 o2
 
 196 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 which invariably surrenders the midnight to injured 
 spirits, but also asserts that the hour when night is 
 growing into day is more solemn and more fit for such 
 visitations than that to which rustic faith assigns all 
 the terrific forms which are contained in his creed. In 
 restoring the original lines, I may, in my own jus- 
 tification, observe, that the ballad will be rendered more 
 true to superstition, and likewise more consistent Avith 
 itself: 
 
 Awake, she cried, thy true love calls, 
 Come from her midnight grave. 
 
 The speed of this ghost was unlike that of all sister 
 spirits, if it rose at midnight, and did not stand at its 
 victim's bedside sooner than the hour when night and 
 morning meet. The real cause of the alteration was, 
 perhaps, the want of correspondence in rhyme bet^veen 
 the second and fourth lines : it is rhyme to the ear — I 
 mean, there is an uniformity of sound which gratifies the 
 ear in singing equal to the most established rhymes, but 
 there is no rhyme to the eye — and to oblige the eye, the 
 poet spoiled his ballad. Nor was this so trivial a matter 
 in days when the natural beauty of poetry was under 
 the control of a mechanical arrangement of sounds: 
 Dr. Johnson treated with contempt one of our finest 
 lyrics — " Ah, the poor shepherd's mournful fate !" for a 
 similar inequality of rhyme. In the other songs of 
 Mallet there is more polish and much prcttiness, and a
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 197 
 
 fine subdued modesty of language and thought, which 
 make tlicm favourites with all lovers of gentle and un- 
 impassioned verse ; but we have no more Williams and 
 Margarets. 
 
 LORD BINNING. 
 
 I notice the song of Lord Binning more from a wish 
 to say something respecting the false wit and unna- 
 tural humour of the composition, than from a belief that 
 it entitles its author to a distinguished place among the 
 lyric poets of his country. Ritson, with incredible in- 
 firmity of taste, calls Robin and Nanny a beautiful pas- 
 toral, and the poet a promising young nobleman. The 
 pastoral beauty of a narrative rich in conceits cannot be 
 great ; and the poetical promise could be but moderate 
 of one who coquetted with words till he made them 
 Avanton, and whose chief wish was the fame of scattering 
 curious puns among the peasants of Scotland. Such 
 lyrical specimens of wit may suit the meridian of a city, 
 where all the strange meanings which pleasant con- 
 versation inflicts on words are felt and admired; but 
 they are thrown away on the blunter intellects of 
 country people, before whom illegitimate fancy scatters 
 her false pearls in vain. In this respect the song of 
 Lord Binning resembles some of the favourite lyrics of 
 England, such as are clapped at theatres and encored in 
 city clubs ; and I assign him a rank of which he per- 
 haps would have been proud, when I class him with
 
 198 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 those wits who sought the pastoral of nature among 
 dames 
 
 Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies. 
 And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass, 
 
 and its current language in smart sayings and in snap 
 conceits. All such A\Titers forsake simplicity and na- 
 ture, and must share, with a witty and exquisite 
 poet, in the just censure which Burns passes on his 
 pastorals : — 
 
 Squire Pope but busks his skinklin patches 
 Of heathen tatters. 
 
 Productions such as these present a knowledge of 
 the town, and are full of pretty points and lively anti- 
 theses ; but they breathe not of the homely heart of 
 England: — they give us an image of city society, of 
 mercantile or professional cleverness, of a choice club 
 of wits, of a city of punsters. The mass of the English 
 people are not of a literary turn, their hearts have long 
 since ceased to respond to the sound of their ancient 
 historic or romantic ballads, and the peasantry have not 
 a literature of their own, like their brethren of the 
 north ; but were their old spirit to be reawakened, they 
 would demand something of a more simple, and, per- 
 haps, moving nature, than the subtleties of wit and the 
 smartness of epigram. To start some lively or witty 
 image, and pursue it through several stanzas, and then
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 199 
 
 close its career \vith a sally of fresh wit, or a gay con- 
 ceit, may amuse the head, but it arouses not the heart. 
 This manifest seeking after things smart, this continual 
 desire to conclude every verse with something penetrating 
 or acute, is most unhappily employed in the praise of 
 beauty : we lose sight of the lady in pursuit of the wit, 
 or cannot see her for the paste-pearls and imitation- 
 jewels Avith which she is covered. Yet Robin and 
 Nanny is a smart lively thing — a good lyrical joke, and 
 I shall print it as a warning rather than as an example. 
 
 JAMES THOMSON. 
 
 Of the lyric powers of the author of The Seasons 
 little more can be said than that his songs are di- 
 stinguished for softness and grace — for an easy and 
 equable flow of elegant language ; and that, amid much 
 kindliness of nature, and concise propriety of expression, 
 he is seldom Avami or impassioned. It is unfortunate 
 for his fame as a lyric poet, that he wncote The Seasons 
 and the Castle of Indolence. His IMuse loved what was 
 magnificent more than what was minute, and excelled in 
 scenes of natural grandeur more than in imiiges of do- 
 mestic endearment and homely delight. The splendour 
 of his other works eclipses the light of liis songs. In 
 looking on the rose, we forget the daisy; in gazing on 
 the rising sun, we forget the beauty of the stars ; in ad- 
 miring a colossus, we turn not aside to examine a head 
 carved out of a cherry-stone. He had a deeper sympathy
 
 200 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 with nature, and found more solace in following her 
 through all the changes of place and season, than in 
 what a Cameronian not unwisely called " woman wor- 
 ship." Nature he loved to pursue " through summer's 
 heat and winter's snow," — through vales of spice, and 
 over the mountains and the waves; but woman he 
 was content to admire at a safer distance : he perhaps 
 knew her fondness to be, as the poet found it, " a 
 lovely and a fearful thing," and continued heart-free, 
 though not fancy-free. His Amanda cannot be blamed 
 for keeping her feet in spite of the witchery of songs 
 which were more sweet than sincere, and had little 
 warmth and less passion. He perhaps loved Avoman as 
 he loved fruit, which he liked to come drop-ripe to his 
 lips, without the trouble of plucking — and admired her 
 as he did the apple, when he ate it off the branch with 
 his hands in his waistcoat pockets. 
 
 His songs are indeed the careless productions of one 
 employed on higher things, and express the feelings of a 
 kind rather than of a warm heart, of a cultivated rather 
 than of a gifted mind. He seeks not to embellish humble 
 life, to picture out homely enjoyments, or to extract 
 poetical grace and lyric beauty from the common em- 
 ployments and conditions of the people of his native 
 land. His heart is not with Scotland when he siuffs : 
 and though sprung from humble life himself, he shows 
 no marks of his original condition — he is silent on the 
 subject of the peasantry of his country — he has added 
 nothing to their winter evening mirth or joy, and is 
 almost the only instance of a northern poet whose song!^
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 201 
 
 are not licard among the cottages of his dwelling place- 
 But he has bequeathed us something better tlian song 
 in those scenes of inspired description and sublime mo- 
 rality which make him an inmate of every house, and 
 a benefactor to mankind. 
 
 TOBIAS SMOLLETT. 
 
 Those who only see in Smollett the author of some 
 pure and ardent verses in praise of his mistress, and feel 
 but the tender sweetness and native ease with which in 
 " Leven Water" he has shed liis affection over the scenes 
 of his youth, do him great injustice. To have a full 
 tasting of his indignant and pathetic spirit, we must 
 know him in his " Tears of Scotland," and seek him in 
 that passage in one of his prose tales, so inexpressibly 
 touching, where his Jacobite exiles stand every morning 
 on the coast of France to contemplate the blue hills of 
 their native land, to which they are never to return. 
 That pathetic lyric entitles him to take his place as the 
 representative of a great number of authors of a peculiar 
 character, \vhose songs have obtained some notice from 
 the cause in which they were composed, but far more 
 from their strength of humour, vigour of invective, their 
 buoyancy of hope, and the pathos of their despair. To 
 say that in his productions I see the fuU glory of 
 Jacobite song, and that in lyric beauty he surpasses 
 all his nameless brethren, is to say more than he 
 merits, for in the higher (pialities of lyric composition
 
 202 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 his verses are inferior to some of those to which no 
 author's name can be given. His grief is calm and con- 
 templative; he sympathizes Avith human misery from 
 principle more than from the heart; and the picture 
 which he paints of the desolation which followed the 
 steps of the Duke of Cumberland would suit the train 
 of any conqueror, whether in Scythia or in Scotland. 
 It is only he who feels Avrongs deeply that can deeply 
 sing them; and it is from him who has been hunted 
 from cave to hill, who has seen his house destroyed, and 
 his wife and children perishing, that we are to look for 
 those bursts of nature, passion, and despair, which mark 
 the time, the cause, and the people. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that the cause for which they suf- 
 fered was that of tyranny against independence, of di- 
 vine right against common sense and natural liberty, of 
 superstition against the religion of the people's heart. 
 But right is one thing and romance another; and a 
 cause may be full of all which gives nerve or pathos to 
 poetry, may have a thousand qualities by which imagina- 
 tion may be captivated and the heart deeply moved, 
 without rational devotion or true liberty lending a sin- 
 gle ray to brighten it. The principles of liberty, and 
 the spirit of poesie, are different things : freedom of con- 
 science, and the Bill of Rights, are no more necessary to 
 the interests of lyric romance than prudence and self- 
 control are useful to the dramatic interest of a tragedy. 
 Government, after all, is but a subject of taste ; and, to 
 the multitude, it may be a matter of indifference whe- 
 ther they are mastered by many or by one : power will
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 203 
 
 always belong to the strong, and obedience must always 
 come from the weak. For my own part I would ratlicr 
 be oppressed by one than by ten, if I am to be oppressed : 
 the people of England, after many years of civil war, 
 only exchanged the tyranny of Charles Stuart for that 
 of a few military adventurers. Religion, too, is much 
 the same as government, and the minds of men have 
 formed many capricious varieties of faith out of a very 
 clear, and simple, and well-defined system of prac- 
 tice and belief. The mantle of the Christian religion, 
 like the coat of Joseph, is of many colours, and imagina- 
 tion has a large choice : from the plain and simple pres- 
 byterian, up to the head of the Romish church, there are 
 firm believers, and there have been martyrs : yet belief 
 is not truth ; and martyrdom may be a mark of zeal, but 
 cannot surely be accepted as a certain sign that the faith 
 of the sufferer was right. 
 
 How many perish for the truth 
 
 O' the elephant and monkey's tooth. 
 
 But however the Jacobites may have erred against 
 the light of human freedom, both civil and religious, 
 and however much the heart of Scotland may have 
 risen against the cause for which they struggled and 
 bled, the time was soon to come when, from a power- 
 ful and a warlike body, they were to be broken and 
 dispersed, their houses razed, their families left desolate, 
 and their heads stuck up to blacken and corrui)t in the 
 public places. It was then, and not till then, that the
 
 ^04 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 hearts of the people began to melt. They thought on the 
 ruin of the lineal race of their ancient kings, on the de- 
 solation of many a noble house that had warred of old 
 for Scotland's independence ; and looking on the visible 
 tokens of vindictive and cruel policy, the ravaged cot 
 and the weeping orphan, the heart carried away the 
 head, and a sympathy, deep and durable, was excited, 
 which only subsided in the measures of mercy and of 
 affection which followed the death of the last of the 
 Stuarts. It is from this feeling that we are to look for the 
 origin of many of our Jacobite songs ; and though no 
 doubt some of them are the productions of exiles, and 
 sufferers, and partisans, others are the work of men who 
 loved liberty as fondly, their native land as dearly, their 
 religion as devoutly, and the constitution of the country 
 as deeply, as the wisest that ever offered daily sa- 
 crifice to that judicious goddess Prudence. We have 
 been told, indeed, that no lofty feeling belonged to those 
 who shared with Prince Charles Stuart in his short 
 career of victory, and in his long period of suffering and 
 endurance ; that they warred to repair the slights of the 
 court, or the injuries of fortune, or from some other mo- 
 tive equally selfish. This may have been so with the few, 
 but was it with the many ? Can we forget the pathetic 
 heroism of many of the sufferers, and, above all, can we 
 forget what I am not ashamed to call the patriotic 
 honesty of many thousands of the peasantry, who pro- 
 tected and saved their unhappy prince, while they knew 
 that thirty thousand pounds Mould be the reward for 
 betraying him ? Let not the selfishness or the folly of a
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 205 
 
 few men give a colour to the conduct of others, wlio 
 fought as few ever fought, and who suffered as few ever 
 suffered, and who lost all that they had to lose of home 
 or of country. 
 
 But let the Muse be answerable for her wayward 
 strains, whether of folly or of wisdom. Like all romantic 
 and indiscreet beings, she often lifts her voice in honour 
 of the weak and in scorn of the strong ; and had she 
 seen the head of the Stuarts lifted, and their banner 
 floating, as of old, she might, with an amiable incon- 
 sistency of principle, but in perfect keeping with poetry, 
 have lent her strength to the weak, and turned her scorn 
 on the prevailing. She will always prefer her art to her 
 principles, and seek the elements of song rather from the 
 heart than from the head. Many of these songs have 
 little of party bitterness. It is wonderful what a tender 
 root the hatred of the cause of the Stuarts struck in the 
 north country ; even the keenest of our sectarians, the 
 Cameronians, continue to speak with a gentleness, almost 
 approaching to affection, of the line of princes who per- 
 secuted them ; and many well authenticated anecdotes 
 might be told to prove how deeply the peasantry felt 
 the hue and cry of blood which pursued so long the par- 
 tisans of the exiled house. I have already said more 
 than I wished to say: all that I desire to add is, the 
 hope that no brave man will ever fight, and no en- 
 thusiastic poet ever sing, in the cause of tyranny, with 
 half the bravery, or with half the beauty, our ancestors 
 have done in the cause of the Stuarts.
 
 200 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 LADY GRISSEL BAILLIE. 
 
 To Lady Grissel Baillie's claims on our regard as a 
 lyric poetess have been lately added, by the publication 
 of her Memoirs, claims of a deeper though less shining 
 kind, those of a dutiful daughter and affectionate wife. 
 She was the child of Patrick, Earl of Marchmont, and wife 
 of the well kno^vn George Baillie of Jerviswood, whose 
 widow she died in 1746. Her lot was cast in very stormy 
 times, and her lively invention was employed in scenes 
 of far deeper importance than in impressing humour and 
 pathos on song. Her turn for domestic pleasure and 
 home-bred mirth was only equalled by her sense of pro- 
 priety and her regard for prudence ; and she found her 
 skill in song not only soothed her own cares, but was a 
 solace amid times of sore trial to her friends, with whom 
 her genius and her virtues were in high esteem. She 
 left many unfinished songs ; for domestic cares made the 
 visitations of the Muse seldom, and the stay short : but 
 the song on which her fame in verse must depend is one 
 able enough to maintain it. Those who look in " Were 
 nae my heart light I would dee," for fine and polished 
 language, or for a very high strain of sentiment, must 
 be content to be disappointed. But it has other attrac- 
 tions, of a more popular and equally durable kind ; it is 
 written in the fine free spirit of the rustic poetry of 
 Scotland — the words are homely and the ideas are na-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 207 
 
 tural; yet they are such as the heart of poesie only 
 ^vould have suggested ; and they who seek to add deeper 
 interest to the story, or to endow it with more suitable 
 ideas, or more natural language, will owe their success 
 as much to good fortune as to meditation. It is now an 
 old favourite, though songs, with more melodious verse, 
 and a more embellished style, have followed thick and 
 threefold ; yet its careless and artless ease, and simple, 
 but graphic imagery, \vill continue to support its re- 
 putation against its more ostentatious associates. The 
 description of a disappointed lover, depressed in spirit, 
 and fancy-touched, will keep possession of every heart, 
 and be present to every eye, till some poet exceed it in 
 truth and felicity. 
 
 And now he goes daunering about the dykes. 
 And a' he dow do is to hound the tykes ; 
 The live lang night he ne'er steeks his e'e, 
 And were nae my heart light I would dee. 
 
 She was among the first of a band of ladies who have 
 contributed largely to the lyric fame of Scotland ; nor is 
 she the only one of her name who has given Scottish 
 song the advantage of female genius. There is another 
 who has breathed into it a far deeper pathos, and a far 
 richer spirit : need I say it is Joanna Baillie ?
 
 ^20S SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 MISS JANE ELLIOT, 
 AND MISS RUTHERFORD. 
 
 I have classed these two poetesses together, not from 
 the resemblance of their genius, for that was essentially 
 different, but from the circumstance of their having sung 
 on the same subject, and ^vith much the same success — 
 the fall of the youth of Selkirk on the field of Flodden. 
 The fame of both songs has been widely diffused. They 
 were imagined for a while to be old compositions, but 
 there was no need to call antiquity to the aid of two 
 such touching songs ; and I have not heard that even an 
 antiquary withdrew his admiration on discovering them 
 to be modern. They are each of them remarkable for 
 elegiac tenderness : with one it is the tenderness of hu- 
 man nature, with the other that of allegory, yet the al- 
 legory is so simple and so plain that it touches the most 
 illiterate heart ; and though it expresses one thing by 
 means of another, all must understand it. Nature, how- 
 ever, is the safest companion in all that seeks the way 
 to the heart, and with nature the song of IMiss Elliot 
 begins and continues. The history which tradition re- 
 lates of these songs is curious : each has an origin after 
 its kind, and one may almost read in them the readiness 
 with which honest nature submits to the yoke of poetry, 
 compared to the labour of reducing what Spenser calls 
 H " dark conceit" to the obedience of verse. 
 
 Of INIiss Elliot's song, Burns says, " This fine ballad
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 209 
 
 is even a more palpable imitation than Hardyknute ; 
 the manners, indeed, are old, but the language is of yes- 
 terday." I am not certain that our national lyrist has 
 laid down the surest rule to ascertain the antiquity of 
 verse ; the language of traditional song is softened and 
 modernized to correspond with current speech, while its 
 manners, and images, and story, may remain whole and 
 untouched. All oral literature is liable to the fluctua- 
 tions of popular taste, and the change of language, from 
 which ^vritten works are exempt ; much of the original 
 beauty of the expression may be impaired or improved, 
 and the touches of native grace, or vagrant beauty, may 
 be lessened or altered ; yet still the original character, 
 and manners, and imagery, ^vill sustain less of a change 
 than the language which conveys them. The arrow, 
 whose gray goose wing was wet in the heart's blood of 
 Montgomery, in the modernized ballad of Chevy Chase, 
 was a shaft fledged from a swan's wing in the ancient 
 copy — the vivid and natural image of s^vift death is the 
 same in both. 
 
 The song of Bliss Elliot was composed from the im- 
 pulse of some ancient verses ; and if there be such a thing 
 as the transmigration of poetic soul, it has happened 
 here. The most acute poetic antiquary could not, I 
 think, single out, except by chance, the ancient lines 
 which are woven into the song — the simulation is so per- 
 fect. The line vnth which it ccHnmences, " I've heard a 
 lilting at our ewes milking," is old, and so is the often 
 recurring line which presses on our hearts the desolation 
 of the Forest. Now, admitting these lines to be old, can 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 9A0 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 we say that the remainder of the song has not in every 
 line, in language, and image, and sentiment, the same 
 antique hue, and spirit, and sound ? The whole comes 
 with a cry in our ears as from the survivors of Flodden 
 Field ; and, when it is sung, we owe little to imagina- 
 tion when we associate it with the desolation of the 
 Forest, and hear in it the ancient wail of its maids and 
 matrons. 
 
 For the song of Miss Rutherford a much more romantic 
 origin is assigned : we are never satisfied with the simple 
 account which genius is willing to give of the rise of its 
 labours : whatever is uncommon must be done in an un- 
 common way. It is said that a young gentleman who 
 had lost his way among the pastoral vales and hills of 
 Selkirkshire came at last in sight of a young shepherd 
 seated by a stream, watching his flocks, and playing on 
 his pipe. Many wild and original tunes were played by 
 the gifted shepherd, and his wondering auditor had the 
 skill and the cunning to carry away one of the sweetest 
 airs of this Selkirkshire Orpheus. He had next the good 
 fortune to meet with Miss Rutherford, and the rustic air 
 was married to very elegant verse. Such is the story 
 which once told has been often repeated. The song, 
 however, bears evidence of Miss Rutherford's knowledge 
 of the fragments which Miss Elliot brooded over to such 
 good purpose : and from the truth and simple beauty of 
 these reliques I must suppose that the air was popular, 
 and that the young gentleman found what had never 
 be6n lost, but was living in the knowledge of thousands. 
 I am the less sorry that the ancient song has passed
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 211 
 
 into oblivion, since it lingered long enough to give rise 
 to two such strains of tenderness and pathetic beauty. 
 A still remembered fragment contains an affectinir imace, 
 and shows that the old minstrel had poured his lamenta- 
 tion from a lady's lips : 
 
 I ride single on my saddle. 
 
 Miss Jane Elliot was the sister of Sir Gilbert Elliot 
 of IMinto, ancestor of the present earl : I have not heard 
 that any other strain, either of mirth or of sorrow, flowed 
 from her pen. Miss Rutherford was the daughter of 
 Rutherford of Fairnalie, in Selkirkshire, and wife of 
 Mr. Cockburn of Ormiston. " She has been dead some 
 time," says an authority equally accurate and concise. 
 " Even at an age advanced beyond the usual bounds of 
 humanity, she retained a play of imagination, and activity 
 of intellect, which was almost preternatural at her period 
 of life. Her active benevolence keeping pace with her 
 genius, rendered her equally an object of love and ad- 
 miration." 
 
 I have not noticed the fragments from which these 
 songs have been written with the wish of lessening the 
 original merit of the two compositions. The merit of 
 reviving or renovating an old song in the ancient spirit 
 seems at least equal to the skill required to create a new 
 one : it is enough that the fancy has to submit to a spe- 
 cies of vocal imprisonment in composing a song as an 
 echo to an air, without suffering the farther constraint 
 of subject, language, and imagery. 
 
 p2
 
 2l!2 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 SIR GILBERT ELLIOT. 
 
 When the poet Cowper reproached the Caledonian 
 songs with their frequent birks and braes^ his acquaint- 
 ance with our lyrics perhaps was limited to some of 
 those tainted with pastoral affectation^ where, it must 
 be confessed, the braes and the birks, and the pipes and 
 the crooks, justify the satire of the Englishman. But afe 
 he became farther acquainted with our lyrics, he would 
 find that our love of our native scenery, and skill in 
 using it to give locality and season, and of course truth, 
 to poetry, was not their only merit ; that they indeed 
 possessed a graphic truth, and simplicity, and humour, 
 much akin to his own : he, therefore, in the succeeding 
 editions of his works, omitted the reproach. In like 
 manner, the charge of pastoral affectation, Avhich has 
 been urged with so much truth against some of our 
 songs, fails in a great measure of its aim — the shaft has 
 flown nearly all its flight, and falls harmless — where 
 nature prevails against art, where truth is so blended 
 with fiction that, like a lowland stream, the water is 
 concealed by the fragrant broom which grows on its 
 banks. The song which has given the name of Sir 
 Gilbert Elliot a place among our lyric poets is one of 
 great beauty ; and the sheep-hook and the fresh garlands 
 are forgotten in the strain of natural sorrow produced by 
 neglected moments and unrequited love. It is one of the 
 last and the best efforts of the pastoral Muse. I know
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 213 
 
 not whether to account it good fortune or design, which 
 made the name of the heroine sound so like that of the 
 family residence ; but I am willing to believe in the pro- 
 phetic strain which makes the cliffs echo, for many a 
 later year^ the song of " My sheep I neglected." 
 
 On IMinto crags the moonbeams glint. 
 Where Barnhill hew'd his bed of flint. 
 Who flung his outlaw'd limbs to rest 
 Where falcons hang their giddy nest. 
 Mid cliffs from whence his eagle eye 
 For many a league his prey could spy; 
 Cliffs doubling on their echoes borne 
 The terrors of the robber's horn. 
 Cliffs which for many a later year 
 The warbling Doric reed shall hear. 
 When some sad swain shall teach the grove 
 Ambition is no cure for love. 
 
 As if it had not been enough for Sir Gilbert Elliot 
 and his sister to write two of our favourite lyrics, and 
 enjoy the credit of such compositions, by special grace and 
 good fortune they have also each obtained a separate 
 and lasting compliment in verse ; the first in the Lay of 
 the last Minstrel, and the latter in Marmion. 
 
 One of those flowers whom plaintive lay 
 In Scotland mourns as " wede away." 
 
 But Miss Rutherford may be supposed to divide the 
 compliment with Miss Elliot, and she deserves it.
 
 214 SCOTTISH SOiNGS. 
 
 MRS. JOHN HUNTER. 
 
 The death-song of the Cherokee Indian has done more 
 for the fame of Mrs. Hunter as a poetess than all hor 
 other lyric compositions. She is known, indeed, under 
 lier maiden name of Home, as an associate in the same 
 tusk with Miss Elliot and Miss Rutherford; but her 
 \ersion of the Flowers of the Forest is deficient in sim- 
 plicity, and presents none of those affecting and visible 
 images of desolation which charm me in the others. It 
 is elegant and flowing ; but what is elegance or melody 
 compared to natural pathos, and to those tender and 
 moving pictures of domestic sorrow which are acknow- 
 ledged by every heart that has felt or can dread calamity? 
 Nature will always assert her right to rule over the 
 heart, and will never surrender her influence to the most 
 ingenious or most imposing allegory : when she wishes 
 for tears or for sighs, she will never seek for them by 
 general expressions or elaborate similes, but endeavour 
 to obtain them by a few simple and minute touches :— 
 to be pathetic, we must be particular. 
 
 But for her failure in the " Flowers of the Forest" we 
 have obtained ample compensation in the death-song of 
 the Indian : a song of a marked and original kind, bold 
 and wild, and inexpressibly mournful, filling the heart 
 w ith a kind of savage inspiration, which exalts us while 
 we hear it sung, and gives us a species of lyric delight 
 unknown before. We feci at once that Scotland has no
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 215 
 
 claim in inspiring the strain, that it breathes of another 
 and a wilder land, and brings the boundless lakes and 
 interminable forests of America, and her plumed hordes 
 of martial barbarians, before us. The hero of the song 
 has been painted by West, gazing at the light of life 
 leaving the eyes of General Wolfe ; and he has been 
 sung by Campbell, as 
 
 A stoic of the woods, a man without a tear : 
 
 but neither the painter nor the poet has presented a 
 more vivid picture of indomitable courage and heroic 
 firmness than has been drawn by this soft and feminine 
 hand. In the wild and enthusiastic ballad of Macpherson's 
 Farewell, we have the dauntless glee, the contempt of 
 death, and the confidence in courage and in strength, 
 which characterize the Scottish highlanders ; and we 
 have something not very dissimilar in tlie song of 
 Hughie Graeme ; but they want that strange wildness, 
 that native flavour of the country, that peculiar cast of 
 thought and imagery, by which the latitude of their 
 birth-place may be laid down with all the nicety of 
 geography. After this praise I shall be thought insensible 
 to the merits of her other lyrics when I can only discover 
 in them an agreeable flow of verse, and a discreet pro- 
 priety of expression. None contain any of those bright 
 and imperishable verses which we are induced to learn 
 and are delighted to remember, and which, like the 
 Cherokee Indian, when we wish our children to have 
 them by heart, we find they have learnt already.
 
 216 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ALEXANDER ROSS. 
 
 Of Alexander Ross, author of the Fortunate Shep- 
 herdesSj Scotland knows much less than it ought ; and I 
 am afraid my praise will not help to invite a fastidious 
 reader to his pages, where homely fidelity of painting 
 will but poorly atone for an ill-told tale and an uncouth 
 dialect. I sought his book in the Scottish lowlands, but 
 it had not found its way from the bosom of Buchau 
 either by the more visible progress of trade, or by that 
 kind of chance intercourse which the country holds with 
 the town through travelling sellers of songs, and ballads, 
 and histories ; it has not therefore become popular among 
 the peasantry, for whose perusal it was composed. The 
 author, a man of education, allowed his eye to be bounded 
 in its range by his native hills, and sought manners and 
 language from no purer or more poetic source than the 
 rustics who surrounded him. He was content to take 
 the world as he found it ; he copied nature with all her 
 warts and moles, and was rude and unseemly not from 
 negligence but from principle. He had little imagina- 
 tion, if imagination consists only in the creation of new 
 and splendid things, in evoking, like a dreamer, some- 
 thing bright and unsubstantial, in conjuring up a phan- 
 tom with seven heads and ten horns ; nor had he much 
 imagination, if imagination, by a soberer definition, be 
 the power of creating something in strict conformity to 
 acknowledged superstition and belief, and in extracting
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 217 
 
 poetry from the common pursuits, and opinions, and 
 feelings of man — from tlic change of seasons, and the 
 aspect of the universe. But he had an observing eye 
 and a rough and a ready hand, and has contrived to 
 please a large district by his skill in reflecting, in the 
 natural mirror of verse, a distinct and agreeable image 
 of the peasantry, with their pursuits and opinions. 
 
 That he brought to the service of the lyric Muse much 
 original vigour of thought, happy selection of language, 
 and natural and unstudied elegance of expression, is 
 more than I am ready to say. His songs expand into 
 poems, and he never can satisfy himself with a brief 
 story, and a rapid sketch : he never read the memorable 
 conclusion of the poet, 
 
 - Brevity is very good 
 Where we are, or are not understood. 
 
 Yet he never seems too long to a rustic audience ; and 
 as it was for their applause he wrote, he was satisfied 
 with attaining it. He wove their curious sayings and 
 their flashes of rude wit into verse, and they rewarded 
 him by an honest laugh, and endured with a patience, 
 which merited a more inspired jjoet, his interminable 
 lyrics. 
 
 MISS JENNY GRAHAME. 
 
 There is a kind of song which without aspiring after 
 pathos or wit, or seeking to win our hearts by impassioned
 
 218 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 expression or lofty sentiment, is nevertheless well worthy 
 of notice and of the popularity which it has obtained. I 
 mean songs which seek to instruct us in the himible 
 duties of life, and desire to teach us the way to hap- 
 piness, and pleasure, and peace. Having strayed into 
 the paths of wisdom and of prudence, the Muse seems 
 ashamed of singing the charms of regularity and economy 
 with her own voice, and she accordingly utters her "saws" 
 and her " instances," her admonition and her reproof, 
 by the lips of the old and the devout. A mother, or 
 rather a grandmother, instructs her volatile descendant 
 in all the wiles of her sex, and unfolds for her use an 
 extensive experience of her OAvn, mingled and seasoned 
 with the long-gathered wisdom of others. " To live in 
 misery, but to dine on plate," seems the enviable di- 
 stinction these douce lecturers aim at ; true love is 
 treated as a dream, and the substantial charms of opu- 
 lence are the beginning and the end of the song. The 
 enthusiasm of youth is made, by a more judicious Muse, 
 to endure the counsel of a less interested tongue. An 
 ancient relative, or a venerable aunt, proceeds to initiate 
 a maiden on the point of escaping from her teens into 
 the mysteries of coquetry, and directs her choice of a 
 lover by the weight of his purse and the extent of his 
 possessions. All the images of rustic grandeur which 
 knowledge can command, and all the advantages, and 
 they are not few, which gold can give, are passed in 
 glittering review before her, and are contrasted, by the 
 malice of ancient wit, with the sorrows of poverty — 
 with an empty coffer and a cold hearth, the constant
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. iil9 
 
 ■iiccompaninicnts of inconsidcnite love. Gold, in the 
 fstiniiitioii of this grave monitor, becomes, like the cestus 
 of the goddess. 
 
 All ambush of sweet snares, replete 
 With love, desire, soft intercourse of hearts. 
 And music of resistless whisper'd sounds. 
 Which from the wisest steal their best resolves. 
 
 In a similar strain of prudence, yet with something of a 
 sarcastic sneer, Allan Ramsay sings : 
 
 There's meikle good love in bonds and bags. 
 And gold and silver's a sweet complexion ; 
 
 And w^it, and w orth, and virtue in rags. 
 Have tint the art of gaining affection. 
 
 And Robert Burns, whose " o'erword" was not always 
 " Prudence," sings still more seriously, 
 
 O thoughtless lassie ! life 's a light : 
 The canniest gate the darke is sair ; 
 
 And aye fu' handed fighting's best — 
 A hungry care's an unco care. 
 
 While the author of Tibbie Fowler concludes his satiric- 
 song with all the bitterness of a disappointed admirer : 
 
 Be a lassie e'er so black. 
 
 Gin she hac the name of siller, 
 Set her up on Tintoc tap. 
 
 The wind will blow a man 'till her-
 
 280 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 At the head of this sober kind of song, since Ramsay 
 and Burns belong to the higher departments, I can with 
 great propriety place Miss Jenny Grahame, the authoress 
 of a very clever lyric called " A Mother's Advice to her 
 Son." This lady, indeed, puts no spicery in the cup of 
 wedlock, and has by heart, like the fifth husband of the 
 Wife of Bath, all the evil chances, sacred and profane, 
 which marriage has brought on man. To these she adds 
 the caution of proverbs and the precepts of experience. 
 I would advise any youth, who has not perfect confidence 
 in his own capacity of judging for himself, to avoid sing- 
 ing, as he goes to be married, the sorrows which this 
 Dumfries lady has discovered under the joys with which 
 Hymen, as with roses, has strewed the bridal couch. I 
 may add of this lady, that she has left a very respectable 
 fame behind her for humour and for naivete. I wish 
 she had left some more songs : our district has not over- 
 flowed with lyric verse, and with the exception of the 
 author of " There's nae luck about the house," my 
 native county has no claim upon me for the character of 
 a lyric poet of any note or eminence. 
 
 REV. JOHN SKINNER. 
 
 Of the songs of John Skinner those most popular 
 are TuUochgorum and John of Badenyon : the first is 
 gay and sprightly : the second belongs to that monitory 
 class which to the interest of a pleasant story adds two 
 or three words of good counsel in a manner between the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 221 
 
 grave and the humorous. The one will ahvays be more 
 or less popular, from the life and animation it lends to 
 the air with which it is united ; and the other has an 
 equal chance to endure, since youth with enthusiasm and 
 hope will often read its own story in the disappointments 
 of its hero, and seek similar consolation in its own bosom, 
 or, as many interpret the song, in the meek and quiet 
 repose of religion. But the IMuse of Skinner had the 
 same infirmity as that of Ross, or had the same hope of 
 a patient audience ; she sings with so much satisfaction 
 to herself, that she knows not when to stop ; and if all 
 lyric bards were to sing in the same lengthened strain, 
 the world, if it did justice to all, would find no time 
 for graver pursuits. This practice of prolonging our 
 delight till even delight becomes painful belongs more 
 peculiarly to the IMuse of the north of Scotland ; and 
 the name of Geddes may be added to that of Skinner 
 and Ross, as an instance of encouraging a story to grow 
 beyond the bounds within which all lyric poetry should 
 be restrained, to which the melody of music is intended 
 to be added. The " Wee, wee Wifiekie" of Geddes, like 
 the " Ewie and her crooked Horn" of Skinner, though 
 longer than a willing singer would wish it, is altogether 
 a very humorous performance, and I should not like to 
 be the person who grcAV tired while it was either singing 
 or reciting. Burns was a warm admirer of the songs of 
 Skinner ; but all the praise which the living lavish on 
 the living, I am afraid, must be taken with some abate- 
 ment. " TuUochgorum," he says, " is the best Scotch 
 song Scotland ever saw." There is certainly a dance of
 
 222 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 words, and great animation ; but, to understand the 
 compliment, we ought to know whether the poet ranked 
 it in reference to all, or according to its kind. I cer- 
 tainly should not place it at the head, or near the head, 
 of Scottish song ; yet I hope no one will take advantage 
 of my candour when I say, that I kno^v not what I 
 might have done had Skinner lived now, and expressed 
 himself as favourably of some of my verses as he did of 
 those of Burns. A man's vanity rises in arms against 
 his judgment, and it is well that it is so : he must be 
 very deficient in enthusiasm whose judgment is always 
 clear ; and he would make but a sorry friend who said 
 only what he thought, and estimated all with the gravity 
 of one sitting in judgment. 
 
 ALEXANDER SKIRVING. 
 
 Of Alexander Skirving, author of " The Chevalier 
 being void of fear," I cannot well say the half I know, 
 or I know not when we should have done with laughing; 
 for besides his gift at song-making, which was con- 
 siderable, he was one of the wittiest and most whimsical 
 of mankind. Much of this peculiar character is visible 
 in his song where he sings of the contest between the 
 rebel and royal forces like one regardless of the result, 
 who scorned one side and mocked the other, and de- 
 rided them both together, — and received the reward 
 of all such candour, for one party picked his pocket, 
 and the other expressed a desire to shoot him. It was
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 223 
 
 for a long while the only song concerning those struggles 
 which could be sung without giving otFence to either 
 side, and was and still is immensely popular ; yet this 
 popularity cannot last : like all other verses which are 
 made on passing events, it must be content to fede gra- 
 dually away from the recollection, as the battle which it 
 celebrates grows more distant, and its allusions begin 
 to be forgotten. It has still, however, a long lease of 
 fame, for the memories of the north are very tenacious ; 
 and an event which shook the kingdom, and filled so 
 many families with mourning, will be often dwelt upon 
 by the old, and recalled by the young. This spirit for 
 poetry and humour was inherited by his son Archibald, a 
 drawer of characters both with pencil and pen ; whose 
 history, and opinions, and verses, and paintings, would 
 fill a volume, and a volume too that would deserve to 
 live. 
 
 JOHN LOWE. 
 
 They who wish well to the fame of John Lowe may 
 wish him known only by the pathetic song of " IMary's 
 Dream ;" but other poetry has gone abroad, and though 
 its inferiority lessens not the excellence of that exquisite 
 production, it very materially impairs our opinion of the 
 original powers of the author. He was indeed a lover and 
 a writer of verses from his youth ; and if we may credit 
 the oral testimony of the peasantry of his native place, 
 some of his early songs are still lingering among the 
 Galloway mountains. But he was only once a true 
 poet, and probably never once a true lover ; and the coy-
 
 S24- SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 ness of the Muse was only equalled by his inconstancy 
 as a man. In the song of " Mary's Dream" he tells the 
 story of a youth who perished at sea ; and the heroine 
 dreams or imagines she sees the form, and hears the 
 voice, of her lover announcing his untimely fate. It is 
 no abatement of the beauty of the song to be told, as I 
 have been, that the same story was current in prose be- 
 fore John Lowe was born ; nor can I consent to suppose 
 his fame at all lessened, even were it proved, as I have 
 heard it very strongly asserted, that it is only a revisal 
 and improvement of an older production. I have known 
 men's memories play them strange tricks in the antiquity 
 of song, and I receive all such assurances with hesitation 
 and doubt. It is the duty of a poet not to invent super- 
 stitious beliefs, but to use them according to their peculiar 
 spirit ; and he who first gives them a poetic dress, and 
 employs them for the purpose of embellishing a true love 
 story, has ever been held from the days of Homer as the 
 original proprietor. In the same manner, should a poet 
 find the fragments of some ancient and departing strain, 
 if he gather them together, and shed over them the re- 
 viving dews of his own fancy and feelings, till they 
 become a fair and a living body, I know not why his 
 merit should be reckoned inferior to that of its first 
 creator. This, or something like this, was my answer to 
 a gentleman who told me he was present when one of the 
 young ladies of Airds went to the kirk with her bride- 
 groom, and while the young men were whispering and 
 naming her for the heroine of Mary's Dream, an old man 
 came forward, and assured them that he had sung the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 225 
 
 song when a boy, and that it was an old song then. 
 But whether old or new, or more probably a mixture of 
 both, it bids fair to continue a favourite ; and I scarcely 
 know a song that contains so many popular qualities — a 
 moving tale with all its natural and supernatural ac- 
 companiments, steeped in a stream of melody. 
 
 The claim of Logan to the sweet song of the Cuckoo, 
 the claim of Hamilton to one brilliant speech, and of 
 John Lowe to one exquisite song, have all been dis- 
 puted ; though nothing can be surer than their several 
 rights — yet the world cannot well be blamed for enter- 
 taining suspicions. When we see a song written in a 
 free and a noble spirit, and hear a speech eloquent and 
 Howing, logical and persuasive, and know that the other 
 productions of the poet are cold and spiritless, and that 
 the orator never spoke another word worthy of notice, 
 we imagine they have begged or borrowed their honours, 
 and unwillingly allow them the credit of having had one 
 solitary fit of inspiration, one short visit from the Muse 
 of poetry or eloquence. When Burns speaks of Lowe, he 
 says he read a poetic letter of his from America, to a 
 young lady, which seemed to relate to love ; the great 
 poet often speaks hastily, and is often wrong where one 
 word of inquiry might have set him right : but though 
 he calls John, Alexander, he was right to treat that cold, 
 and heartless, and conceited epistle, with contempt or 
 indifference. A man who retracts his promise and re- 
 vokes his vows for no better reason than his own incon- 
 stancy is a contemptible scoundrel, and yet he becomes 
 still more abject and pitiable when he sits coolly down to 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 220 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 clothe liis villany in verse, to polish his own hardness of 
 heart, and to give the wings of poetry to his own infamy, 
 that it may fly over the world and proclaim it east and 
 west. That Lowe's vanity was greater than his want of 
 principle cannot Avcll be doubted, since it obliged him to 
 reveal his own dishonour : we read his lines with pain 
 and dismiss them with contempt, and scarcely afford a 
 sigh for the disastrous close of his life. But family 
 shame, and disappointed hope, and the bitterness, it may 
 be, of self-reproach, revenged the cause of injured love, 
 and laid him in an untimely grave. — Let those who de- 
 sire to part with him in peace read his Mary's Dream, 
 a song which few have equalled and none excelled. 
 
 WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE. 
 
 Were I to say that the lyrical fame of Mickle de- 
 pended on that very fascinating song, " There's nae luck 
 about the house," I should do him a manifest injustice. 
 That he is chiefly known in the north as the author of 
 that song only is very true, and it Avas but lately his 
 claim was ascertained as surely as all such dubious 
 things can be : but he is also the author of some dozen 
 and a half of the sweetest ballads in the collection of 
 Mr. Evans. The poet, indeed, had no wish to own 
 these hasty and somewhat unequal productions; and, 
 with a desire to let them win their way as the works of 
 the antique Muse, he encumbered their language Avith all 
 t>»oi i<\^p oTRrnishing of superfluous letters. Now, if one
 
 SCOTTISH SONCJS. 227 
 
 quote, or pretend to quote, from some old manuscript, 
 such embarrassments to the reader may be defended ; 
 but all oral or remembered things must come stript 
 of idle letters — their presence betrays the imposture. 
 Throughout the whole number there is a family resem- 
 blance, and they are all alike marked as the offspring of 
 a tender heart ; their descriptions are simple and gra- 
 phic, their sentiments natural and affecting. They are 
 all emblazoned, too, with old manners, and old customs, 
 and old deeds, in the spirit with which a true poet will 
 employ his antiquarian knowledge. I am glad of this 
 opportunity of rendering back to departed genius the 
 ornaments of which it too carelessly despoiled itself; 
 and it may be a warning to many who imagine they 
 can estimate their own capacity and decide what works 
 of theirs posterity will honour : for in my opinion his 
 hastiest effusions are his best, and in those heroic and 
 romantic legends he breathed out a far more free and 
 natural strain than in some of his more elaborate pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 Of his " Nae luck about the house" I am obliged to 
 speak, and I speak unwillingly, for I confess I am not 
 quite satisfied with his claims of authorship. He has 
 written nothing else in the peculiar style of that com- 
 position, and we know that the reputation of having writ- 
 ten it was long enjoyed by another. Now the claim of 
 Mickle depends on the conclusion which we may choose 
 to draw from the fact of the song, with variations, being- 
 found in his handwriting. ]\Jany of the songs which 
 Burns transcribed, or dressed up for the Museum, have 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 been mistaken for his own compositions : and in like 
 manner, Mickle may unwittingly have made another 
 person's song his own, which he had only sought to cor- 
 rect or embellish. These, after all, are but doubts ; — 
 doubts which every one is free to express who feels 
 them. He has made out a better claim to the merit of 
 writing that delightful song than any other person ; and 
 since it is an old favourite now, and as all knowledge of 
 its origin may be fairly reckoned to be departed, I am 
 ready to believe that it owes to him most of those charms 
 by which it cannot fail to captivate attention, so long as 
 the happiest language in which truth and nature can be 
 expressed has any sway over men's hearts. 
 
 JOHN LOGAN. 
 
 While the songs of some other poets have risen into a 
 popularity whic^ they hardly seem to deserve, those of 
 Logan have by no means received such notice as their 
 merits claim. As the author of the Ode to the Cuckoo, 
 his name stands justly high ; the sweetness, the neat- 
 ness, and concise beauty of that composition, cannot well 
 be rivalled; yet it must not be disguised that many 
 assign it to Michael Bruce, a young poet, who, though 
 he died in the blossom of his hope, has received some 
 compensation by the general sympathy with which his 
 name is regarded, and by the fame that his promise, 
 rather than his performance, has obtained. I confess, 
 in a matter of gratuitous conjecture, I cannot see why
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 229 
 
 \vc should impeach the testimony of Logan in his own 
 favour ; or why he was incapable of producing such a 
 strain, when he had written some which fairly rival it. 
 Are we to suppose, because he introduced into the works 
 of Bruce some of his o-vvn poetry without acknowledging 
 it, that at the same time he privately and basely taxed 
 the productions of his friend to grace his own future 
 works ? I cannot believe it, and till I see more reason I 
 will not. If he was sweet, and neat, and concise in the 
 ode to the Cuckoo, he was not less so in some of his 
 other lyrics: he united great sensibility mth great 
 nicety of judgment, his style was free and flowing, and 
 his felicitous brevity of expression was favourable to 
 lyric composition. 
 
 His taste, however, was not always accurate, and his 
 lyrics are sometimes infected with the Arcadian plague 
 of shepherds and shepherdesses. The idly feigned poetic 
 pains of imaginary personages make little impression on 
 the multitude; and a song, which gives back to the 
 heart or eye of the singer nothing of either nature or 
 manners, has a small chance for lasting admiration. I 
 always distrust the excellence of verse Avhich, professing 
 to look like nature, is too fine and too beautiful for the 
 comprehension of the commonalty. The princesses and 
 gentlemen of pastoral 'verse would think the primeval 
 curse had fallen upon them were they transported from 
 their balmy groves and blooming fields to a wild hill 
 bide among the mountains of Scotland. But Logan is 
 no frequent sinner in the pastoral style ; and the beauty 
 of his verses on Yarrow Braes has many admirers who
 
 230 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 forget, in the pathetic flow, that he ever siglied at the 
 feet of a shepherdess, or heard the note of the nightin- 
 gale north of the Tweed. It is singular what affection 
 genius has long entertained for the little stream of Yar- 
 row, and how many gifted spirits have united to cele- 
 brate it. Yet beautiful as many of the lyrics are which 
 shed their enchantments on its bank and stream, I am not 
 sure but that the most sweetly beautiful are not native 
 at all, being breathed from southern dales. When will 
 my native stream of Nith obtain or deserve the distinc- 
 tion of such strains as the Yarrow Unvisited, or the 
 Yarrow Visited, of Wordsworth ? 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 A lyric poet, with more than the rustic Immour and 
 exact truth of Ramsay, with simplicity surpassing 
 Crawford's, and native elegance exceeding Hamilton's, 
 and -with a genius which seemed to unite all the di- 
 stinguishing excellencies of our elder lyrics, appeared in 
 Robert Burns. He was the first who brought deep passion 
 to the service of the lyric Bluse, who added sublimity to 
 simplicity, and found grace and elegance among the cot- 
 tages of his native land. The beauty and the variety 
 of his songs, their tenderness and truth, their pathetic 
 sweetness, their unextinguishable humour, their noble 
 scorn of whatever is mean and vile, and their deep sym- 
 pathy with the feelings of humble worth, are felt by all, 
 and acknowledged V)y all. His original power, and his
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 231 
 
 liappy spirit, were only equalled by his remarkable gift 
 of entering into the characters of our ancient songs, and 
 the skill with which he abated their indelicacy, or eked 
 out their imperfections. No one felt more fondly the 
 presence of beauty, could express admiration, hope, or 
 desire, in more glowing language, or sing of the calm 
 joys of wedded love, or the unbounded rapture of single 
 hearts and mutual affection, with equal force or felicity. 
 All his songs are distinguished more or less by a happy 
 carelessness, by a bounding elasticity of spirit, a sin- 
 gular and natural felicity of expression, by the ardour 
 of an enthusiastic heart, and the vigour of a clear imder- 
 standing. He had the rare gift of expressing himself 
 according to the rank and condition of mankind, the 
 stateliness of matron pride, the modesty of virgin affec- 
 tion, the quendousness of old age, and the overflowing 
 enthusiasm and vivacity of youth. His simplicity is the 
 simplicity of strength : he is never mean, never weak, 
 seldom vulgar, and but rarely coarse ; and his unrivalled 
 power of clothing his thoughts in happy and graceful 
 language never forsakes him. Capricious and wayward 
 as liis musings sometimes are, mingling the moving with 
 the comic, and the sarcastic with the solemn, all he 
 says is above the mark of other men — he sheds a re- 
 deeming light on all he touches; whatever his eye 
 glances on rises into life and beauty, and stands conse- 
 crated and imperishable. His language is familiar, yet 
 dignified, careless, yet concise ; and he touches on the 
 most perilous or ordinary themes with a skill so rare and 
 felicitous, that good fortune seems to unite with good
 
 232 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 taste in carrying him over the mire of rudeness and vul- 
 garity, in which, since his time, so many inferior spirits 
 have wallowed. His love, his enthusiasm, his devotion, 
 his humour, his domestic happiness, and his homeliest 
 joy, is every where characterised by a brief and elegant 
 simplicity, at once easy to him and unattainable to 
 others. No one has such power in adorning the humble, 
 and dignifying the plain, and in extracting sweet and 
 impassioned poetry from the daily occurrences of human 
 life : his simplicity is without childishness, his affection 
 without exaggeration, and his sentiment without conceit. 
 The influence which the genius of Burns has ob- 
 tained over the heart of Scotland is indeed great, and 
 promises to be lasting. He alarms, it is true, very sensi- 
 tive and fastidious persons, by the freedom of his spe- 
 culations and the masculine vigour of his mode of ex- 
 pression ; but these are rather the casual lapses of the 
 Muse, the overflowings of an ardent heart and un- 
 wearied fancy, and a love of vivid illustration, than a 
 defect of principle, or an imperfection of taste. Like 
 a fine race-horse, he cannot always stop at the winning- 
 post; like a beautiful stream, he sometimes overflows 
 the banks; and his genius resembles more a tree run 
 wild, than one trimmed and pruned to decorate a garden 
 walk. When speaking of his prospect of future fame 
 to a friend, he said he depended chiefly on his songs 
 for the continuance of his name ; and his decision seems 
 correct. Not but that I think, in all his earlier poems, 
 he displays greater force and freedom of genius than 
 he any where exhibits in his lyrics ; but then these brief
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. ^Si} 
 
 and bright effusions are learned by heart — are con- 
 iided to the memories of the people — and come down 
 from generation to generation without the aid of the 
 press or the pen^, to which longer and more deliberate 
 productions must be trusted. In this way alone would 
 many of the best of Burns's songs be preserved, per- 
 haps his humorous lyrics the longest — we naturally pre- 
 fer mirth to sorrow : the source of tears is deeper than 
 that of laughter ; and duller heads and less sensible 
 hearts, which could not partake in his emotions of ten- 
 derness and sublimity, would assist in preserving what- 
 ever increased the joy of a bridal feast, or the merriment 
 of rustic festivity. 
 
 But with all his impassioned eloquence in the pre- 
 sence of beauty, with liis power of exciting emotions 
 at will, whether of pleasure or of pity, and with all 
 his delight in what is lovely and inspiring, he had little 
 of that elevated and refined spirit which contemplates 
 beauty with awe, and approaches it with reverence. Of 
 this pure glory and hallowed light his lyrics possess no- 
 thing. The midnight tryste and the stolen interview — 
 the rapture to meet, and the anguish to part — the whis- 
 per in the dark — and all the lavish spirit of nocturnal 
 enjoyment, correspond more with the warmth than the 
 elevation of love. He looked not on loveliness as on a 
 pure and an a\vful thing : he drew no magic circle of 
 lofty and romantic thought round those he lovgd, Avhich 
 could not be passed without lowering them from sta- 
 tions little lower than the angels ; but he clasps them 
 in his arms, and lavishes on their condescension all the
 
 .^34 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 rapture of unrcHned joy. His rapture is without ro- 
 mance ; and to the charms of his compositions lie has 
 not added that of chivalry. He has no distant mode of 
 salutation — he seeks the couch rather than approaches 
 the footstool of beauty ; and the sparkling wine, the 
 private chamber, and the " pulse's maddening play," 
 are to him that inspiration which devouter minds have 
 invoked by prayer and humiliation. When one of the 
 ladies who had felt the sorcery of his conversation as 
 well as of his Muse said, with more naivete than de- 
 licacy, that no man's eloquence ever carried her so com- 
 pletely off her feet as that of Burns, she expressed, 
 very happily, that influence which the passionate lan- 
 guage of poetry has over a susceptible heart : but still 
 this fails to let us into the secret of the charms he used ; 
 and the lady may have lost her self-command by the 
 witchery of a gross as well as an aerial eloquence. But 
 if he was not under the spell of chivalry in the inter- 
 courses of love, he was occasionally under an influence 
 which sobered down the selfish impetuosity of passion — 
 which imparted a meekness to his joy, and a reverence 
 to his language. I am willing to believe that a deep 
 feeling of devotion, constant in his youth, and flashing 
 back on him by fits and starts during the period of his 
 short but glorious career, interposed to hallow his 
 thoughts, and restrain that torrent of passion which 
 overflowed in all his productions. 
 
 He laid down rules for lyric composition which he 
 did not always observe, and seemed willing to restrain 
 others from pruning the luxuriance, or improving the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. ^35 
 
 scntiincnt, or heightening the story, of ancient song, 
 while he was ready to indulge in it himself. Of the 
 many fine songs Avhich he wrote, a large proportion are 
 either avowedly or evidently conceived in the spirit, 
 and executed in the feeling, of others : he retouched 
 many, restored many, and remodelled many; but he 
 retouched few without improving them, restored none 
 without increasing their beauty, and remodelled none 
 without introducing some of those electric touches of 
 delicacy, or humour, or tenderness, for which he is so 
 remarkable. It would extend to a great length the cha- 
 racter which I am endeavouring to draw, were I to seek 
 to justify my assertion by an examination into all the 
 sources from which he gathered the materials of song — 
 or to point out fragments which he completed, verses 
 from which he borrowed, or songs which he imitated. He 
 seemed, indeed, to take particular delight in completing 
 the old and imperfect songs of his native country : with- 
 out much old world lore, with no great thirst of re- 
 search, without any particular sympathy for the old 
 simple style of our ballads, he has exercised his fancy 
 and displayed his taste among the reliques of ancient 
 song to a greater extent than is generally known. 
 Though nature is exhaustless, I must confess that 
 Burns, who is somewhat little less than nature herself, 
 appears to have felt at last the decay of fancy in the 
 service to which his love of Scottish music called him. 
 To expect that a spirit so wayward could endure, year 
 after year, to measure out lyric verse according to the 
 prescription of all manner of melodies, is to me sur-
 
 236 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 prising. That he could stay till he entered into the 
 feeling of the air — till he extracted from bagpipers 
 and fiddlers all their varieties of the melody which was 
 to be united to verse ; and then make a notorious sa- 
 crifice of vigorous meaning to empty music, and endure 
 the criticism of men, whose skill in the science of sound 
 was less to be disputed than in the science of sense, is 
 one of those instances of condescension and willing hu- 
 miliation which are unfrequent in the history of Robert 
 Burns. 
 
 ROBERT TANNAHILL. 
 
 The man who breaks out from the fulness of his 
 heart into voluntary numbers, and seeks relief in poesie 
 from the matter with which he overflows, is a poet 
 of nature's own handiwork ; and we may expect from 
 him a free and original strain, and some addition to 
 the stock of popular pleasure. The rods of the false 
 magicians Avrought their enchantments as well as the 
 rod of the prophet ; and we have much poetry which 
 comes from a lower source than inspiration; but the 
 enchantments which the false magicians wrought could 
 not stand, since they were not of God ; and the poetry 
 which is laboured out by mechanical skill alone cannot 
 survive, since it springs not from nature. With the 
 finest car and the nicest skill in language, and with 
 learning lending knowledge and power, a man cannot 
 write true poetry ; for all these acquirements will only
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 237 
 
 carry him to where poesie begins ; and though he may 
 speak with the voice of the Muse, her heart, which 
 warms, and animates, and exalts, will be absent ; and 
 though his aspirations may be correct and melodious, 
 they will want the curious ease and happiness of natural 
 poetry. He will give no fresh impulse to our feelings ; 
 he will add no new joy to the stock of the old : he \vill 
 but re-echo more impressive sounds M-hich have been 
 heard before ; give a new look to an old sentiment ; and 
 flourish in the faded flowers and the tarnished finery of 
 verse. 
 
 Though I have no hesitation in admitting Tannahill 
 to the fellowship of the born spirits of lyric verse, and in 
 acknowledging his right to take rank with some of our 
 popular song writers, I am not so' ready to allow him 
 the rare merit of originality which some have boldly 
 claimed for him, nor am I prepared to believe that he 
 has equalled Burns, or even approached him, either in 
 pathos or in passion, in true love or in tenderness, in 
 spirit or in humour. His songs, which are numerous, 
 are chiefly remarkable for the nicety and skill with 
 which they are measured out to re-echo the airs to which 
 they are sung: they have been composed by one en- 
 tirely possessed by the melody to which he wished to 
 wed his verse; and this I am afraid has lessened the 
 ardour of the poet, while he solicited words and dis- 
 tributed them out by the suggestion of sound. They 
 name the name of love indeed, but they express none 
 of its deep emotions : they speak of imaginary pains, 
 and present us with midnight interviews ; but there is
 
 238 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 little of the overflowing aifection of youthful hearts ; if 
 they speak, they sjieak what other lovers have said be- 
 fore them ; they meet without rapture, and part with- 
 out passion. His songs are descriptions of scenery 
 rather than pictures of true love ; the subject of his 
 verse is lost in the exuberant luxuriance of landscape ; 
 and he is so anxious to leave no tree, or stream, or flower 
 unsung, that he fairly buries the painting in the frame- 
 work. It would be unjust to deny that some of his 
 happiest songs are excellent after their kind ; but they 
 are excellent after the manner of others : he has dis- 
 covered no new region of delight into which he could 
 take the votaries of song ; the ways in which he leads 
 them go through no enchanted or untrodden ground; 
 and he lives rather in the neighbourhood of the Muse 
 than in her company. 
 
 This absence of some of the chief charms of lyric verse 
 in the compositions of Tannahill may be sought in his 
 way of life — in his love of singing to suit the tastes of 
 a club of v/est-country wits, rather than in obeying 
 the dictates of his own heart. It is idle to listen to 
 the calls of others, unless the poet feels the call within 
 himself; what he p-oduces to rule and measure will look 
 like a paste gem beside a diamond, when compared with 
 those unbidden and unsolicited strains which gush up 
 from time to time from the recesses of his own bosom. 
 The coldness of liis love compels him to seize on every 
 descriptive circumstance to SAvell the amount of his 
 verses — auxiliaries become principals— and the subordi- 
 nate parts usurp the foreground. The west of Scot-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. ^239 
 
 land seemed to imagine, that having produced Burns, it 
 was destined to produce, at stated periods, a succession 
 of humble bards endowed with genius like that of its 
 favourite son. Tannahill was therefore hailed as a star 
 at least, under the influence of the planet Burns ; and 
 the glimmerings of his weak and inconstant light were 
 looked upon as the dawn of something more full and re- 
 splendent. But with a kind heart, and considerable 
 poetic power, he was unequal to the task of consoling 
 the west country for the untimely fate of Burns ; and 
 what for himself was far more unfortunate, he wanted 
 firmness of mind, and independent pride of heart, and 
 proud consciousness of genius, to support him against 
 the cold regard of the world ; and having written to 
 please others rather than to gratify himself, he was not 
 prepared for evil fortune, but sank under mortified am- 
 bition and disappointed hope. 
 
 The fall of this young poet presents a lesson for those 
 to 'read who imagine that the gift of genius and all its 
 accompanying sensibilities is a blessing and a pleasure : 
 it is indeed a blessing, when it comes with correspond- 
 ing power of mind and excellence of judgment ; when 
 he who possesses it can form a proper estimate of his 
 own capabilities ; can prepare himself for the insolence 
 of criticism and the neglect of the world ; and can 
 answer scorn with scorn, and find in his own heart 
 abundance of consolation ; — when with the wisdom which 
 swayed Burns, he sings to please himself, the surest 
 way to please others. But it is a curse and a torment 
 when it is bestowed alone, and good judgment is with-
 
 S40 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 held: like a ship Avith more sail than ballast, or a 
 startled bird in the dark, it will sink in the waves, or 
 flutter to death ; or, like the wild steed of which Lord 
 Byron has so exquisitely sung, it will gallop till it 
 burst its heart. I should be one of the last to ask for 
 genius the protection of the great ; but in the case of 
 Tannahill a little patronage might have been spared— 
 for little Avould have done ; and the shame of sending 
 him in poverty and in sorrow to an untimely grave 
 would not then have been added to the national re- 
 proach which the history of the inimitable Burns has 
 brouglit on our country. 
 
 RICHARD GALL. 
 
 Richard Gall is a sweet and melodious writer, easy 
 and flowing ; but his flow is without depth, his sweet- 
 ness without strength ; and with all his ease he scatters 
 none of those careless graces — gives us none of those 
 electric touches which awaken new trains of association, 
 and introduce us to new pleasures. His songs have 
 been read and sung ; but they want the power of re- 
 maining on the memory as a charm : they are not better 
 than others of the same character which have preceded 
 them ; they give no new turn to thought ; they embel- 
 lish the oft-told tale of love with no original imagery ; 
 and they ofler no new incense at the shrine of beauty. 
 He looks, with Burns, on the daisy, over which he 
 has trod — but no sublime and moral emotion arises in
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 241 
 
 his miiul ; and lie luoks on the mouse hastening from the 
 ruin of its stubble nest — but it awakens no images of 
 terror or of pity : the one is but a weed, and the other 
 but a mouse — and so they are to the mass of mankind. 
 I accuse him not of being insensible to the charms of 
 nature, and to the presence of beauty ; for his verses 
 entitle him to rank with those who could strike off a 
 fac-simile of what is visible to the eye. He can see, but 
 he cannot imagine ; he thinks of spring like a farmer, 
 and sees in the earth, whose bosom is heaving with new 
 life, only the hope of a good crop of corn. In his love 
 he is quiet and tranquil ; his joy is moderate, and his 
 sorrow is without tears. I cannot give him greater 
 jjraisCj and therefore I will spare him any farther cen- 
 sure. 
 
 HECTOR MACNEILL. 
 
 Of all ladies Fame is the most fascinating and faith- 
 less : she will smile on a man to his face, run with her 
 light before him, and blow her trumpet at his approach ; 
 but the moment he is gone, and the green sod is above 
 him, she extinguishes her torch, casts her trumpet aside, 
 and forgets his name with as little remorse as the buxom 
 wife of Bath forgot that of her third husband when she 
 meditated her fourth marriage. Yet she is not always 
 so unjust and inconstant. There are others to whom 
 she was frugal of her smiles, and whose names she sel- 
 dom pronounced while they lived ; but over whose graves 
 she scatters her flowers, and sounds her trumpet, and 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 S42 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 whom she summons men to admire with all the fervour 
 of a virgin who has lost her love, or of a wife bereaved of 
 the husband of her heart. In which of these situations 
 Hector ]\Iacniell stands it requires little skill to deter- 
 mine. I remember, when a boy, the numerous editions 
 of his songs and his tales, the applause they received, 
 and the fame which they brought the author. No fame 
 was ever so suddenly achieved ; no praise was ever so 
 loudly proclaimed: and yet what reputation has ex- 
 perienced so great a fall ? — ^vhat poet would think it 
 praise to be told that he sang like the author of " Come 
 under my Plaidie," or " Mj Boy Tammy ?" Yet Scot- 
 land welcomed him as she never welcomed man before. 
 — To see in " Will and Jean" a spirit worthy of ranking 
 with Burns, or of outrivalling that truly vigorous and 
 Hogarthian production, "' Watty and IMeg," was a de- 
 lusion such as never fell on the eyes of man since the 
 spell in the wizard's book, which made a cockle-shell 
 seem a gilded barge. 
 
 Of his songs some account must be given, and his 
 songs are the best of his works. They have much soft- 
 ness and truth, an insinuating grace of manner, and a 
 decorum of expression, with no small skill in the dra- 
 matic management of the stories — for they are all con- 
 ceived in the express character of our popular lyrics. 
 They are imiocent and strictly moral : his Muse is no 
 leaper and dancer — she never runs half breathless in 
 the twilight round the ricks of hay, nor laughs in the 
 dark, but conducts herself Avith a propriety worthy of 
 a better inspiration. But who, in the pursuit of na-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 243 
 
 tural ease of expression, simple energy of tlumglit and 
 concise purity of language, ever made such marvellous 
 mistakes as the author of j\Iy Boy Tammy ? He mis- 
 takes the chirping of the grasshopper for the voice of 
 the eagle — the gliding of the brook for the heaving of 
 the ocean — and the tongue of a school-boy, expressing a 
 sneaking regard for curds and cream, for the voice of a 
 man uttering the language of love. His simplicity is 
 utter weakness, and neither man nor woman nor child 
 could speak so far below the mark of manhood as some 
 of the swains of Macniell. The very idea of falling in 
 love implies a conscious mardiness — a sense that wit and 
 form are grown nigh to man's estate : but what mother, 
 Avith either a mother's anxious heart or intrepid tongue, 
 would ask a son who had the sense to seek a wife such 
 silly questions as the mother of Tammy ? and Avhat son 
 that had any hope of a beard would have replied in the 
 words of that harmless simpleton ? 
 
 There is perhaps no grace in lyric composition so dif- 
 ficult to attain as simple grace of expression : but sim- 
 plicity implies the presence of sense and wit, and is 
 accompanied by strength, and gives depth to pathos and 
 force to humour. But to separate the poetry from the 
 prose of life, as honey is gathered from the weed, and 
 to pluck the sweetest flowers of poesie from among the 
 thorns and brambles of humble life, was a flight beyond 
 the power of Macniell. There is a rich and a noble sim- 
 plicity — but there is also a poor and a mean simplicity ; 
 and as vulgarity is often mistakeii for rustic elegance, so 
 is meanness of language for elevation and strength. When 
 
 r2
 
 244 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 he imagines he imitates the language of innocence, he 
 becomes tame and ludicrous ; and instead of rivalling 
 the homely strength and agreeable naivete of the ancient 
 songs, he produces a lyric unworthy of soothing children. 
 He seems to have mistaken human nature, and seeks 
 among a shrewd and a keen-sighted people to renew the 
 age of gold and the language of helplessness and igno- 
 rance. His " Come under my Plaidie" is a story which 
 was found without the cost of invention ; it is the com- 
 mon tale of a woman, fond of fine dresses and soft beds, 
 preferring age and riches to youth and poverty : but it 
 is told without humour; and the author neither in- 
 creases our mirth nor excites our scorn by an adventure, 
 in telling which, no one save himself could have escaped 
 doing both. 
 
 REV. WILLIAM MOREHEAD. 
 
 The men of Galloway of old claimed and enjoyed the 
 dangerous honour of composing the vanguard of the 
 royal armies of Scotland, and for many centuries con- 
 fined their ambition to this often-envied distinction : 
 they claimed no other honours, and were satisfied with 
 the silent fame which industry and hospitality added. 
 Though living in wild and picturesque regions, their 
 pastoral hills and romantic streams, their poetic super- 
 stitions and their lovely women, never elevated them into 
 verse; so that, unlike the natives of the neighbouring coun- 
 ties, they have few remains of literary glory to show. In
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 245 
 
 song, the spontaneous offspring of the heart, tliey have, 
 till of late, produced little ; and were we to withdraw 
 from the great joint stock of national pleasure all the 
 songs which the men of Galloway have contributed, who 
 would be sensible of the diminution ? In trutli, the 
 lyric authors of that extensive district, having each of 
 them produced one good song, seem to have exhausted 
 their powers ; or, like the corncrake, whose first cry in 
 the season is sweet, but whose single and invariable note 
 becomes palling and monotonous, we cannot endure the 
 continuance of their strains, since, like echoes, they be- 
 come fainter and less distinct than the original sound. 
 
 There is one Galloway song, however, a production of 
 very singular merit, which, if not quite original in con- 
 ception, is original in execution, and cannot well be 
 spared from among our national lyrics : its loss would 
 be like rending a green bough from a living tree — 
 I mean " Bess the Gav.'kie." William IMorehead, tlie 
 author, was minister of the parish of Urr, in GalloAvay : 
 he was a vigilant and able professor, and a man of ready 
 wit and gay keen humour. That he was the author, I 
 had the assurance of my Father — a man fond of collecting 
 all that was characteristic of his country, and possessing a 
 Avarm heart, lively fancy, benevolent humour, and pleasant 
 happy wit. Tohim I owe much of the information concern- 
 ing song which I have scattered over these pages ; and in 
 all things connected with our national poetry, so much did 
 our tastes correspond, that in recording my own opinions 
 I am only expressing his. A poet himself, and a correct 
 judge of poetry, his curiosity was unbounded and his
 
 246 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 reading extensive. He had by heart many an historical 
 and romantic tradition, many a moving story, and many 
 an ancient verse ; and so well did he feel, and so happily 
 could he utter what others wrote, that I have heard 
 many say they would rather hear him read songs than 
 others sing them. With Morehead he was personally 
 acquainted, and he also knew Nathaniel Mackay, the 
 minister of Crossmichael, who, he informed me, was 
 the author of " Nae Dominies for me. Laddie" — a clever 
 but unequal song. All my inquiries, and they have not 
 been few, confirm his assurance. 
 
 Bess the Gawkie is a song of original merit, lively 
 without extravagance, and gay without grossness — the 
 simplicity is elegant, and the naivete scarcely rivalled. 
 The maiden's complaint of the numerous caresses of 
 her lover — " O Jamie, ye ha'e monie ta'en," is the 
 reproof of one pleased and innocent ; and the triumph- 
 ant taunts of Bess, and her concluding song of merry 
 indifference, cannot readily be matched. That More- 
 head wrote nothing more, having written once so ably, 
 is very strange. How he contrived to disobey that great 
 internal call, that craving of the heart and the fancy to 
 break out into voluntary song — an impulse which men 
 call inspiration, surpasses my understanding. Morehead, 
 Lowe, Mackay, and others — all men of GalloAvay, all 
 ]ioets, are all single-song men, but Morehead is the most 
 original ; and as his writing has increased our rational 
 umtxsement, I am sorry he did so little for us, when he 
 could do it so well.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 247 
 
 ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 
 Alcxaililor Wilson is well known as the author of one 
 of our most popular rustic poems, Watty Jind JMeg. In 
 his homely and vigorous style, his scorn of all ornament, 
 his directness of purpose, and his rough energy, he 
 stands opposed to IMacniell ; and he is likewise opposed 
 to him in matter as well as in manner, for his song is of 
 mirth augmented by liquor, of public-house pastime and 
 tumultuous joy, of the fury of female passion and do- 
 mestic infelicity. He scorns douce morality and regular 
 decorum, and loves to hear the pint-stoups clatter amid 
 
 Laughing, sangs, and lasses' skirls. 
 
 He has been excelled by none in lively graphic 
 fidelity of touch : whatever Avas present to his eye, 
 and manifest to his ear, he could paint with a life and 
 a humour which Burns seems alone to rival; but in 
 all the higher qualities of the poet he was decidedly 
 inferior — he had none of those sudden bursts, as of light- 
 ning from a cloud, which kindle us up and exalt and 
 lift us above the earth. What he beheld he could de- 
 scribe, but what he found low he could not raise ; he 
 could run on the ground, but he could not ascend : while 
 manners and men sat for their pictures, he could paint ; 
 but he was unable to speculate upon human character 
 and action, and his skill lay in augmenting mirth rather 
 than in moving to pity or to tears. 
 
 His genius merited a happier fate than to be exiled
 
 248 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 among the deserts of North America. He undertook a 
 work of great labour — the American Ornithology ; and 
 with his gun, and his pencil, and his pen, he traversed 
 forests, skirted mountains, crossed rivers, and at last 
 perished from anxiety of mind and fatigue of body, from 
 unrewarded industry and ungratified hope. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL. 
 
 With a deeper relish than most men for humour and 
 wit, and with a spirit sprightly, elate, and companion- 
 able. Sir Alexander Boswell had not the happiest art of 
 communicating his emotions to song ; his mirth seems 
 forced, and his humour wants readiness of motion — it is 
 more cumbrous than keen. He inherited from nature 
 much constitutional glee, and had an accurate eye for 
 measuring the whims and the follies of mankind ; but 
 the wit and the humour, which shake the company's 
 sides when the wine goes round, have seldom flowed 
 into song. The wit which comes at the call of merry 
 companionship, and the wit which attends on meditation, 
 may be of the same species ; but the one is perishable, 
 and the other enduring. — To shine in conversation is one 
 thing, and in verse another, though the poetic element 
 belongs to both. To Boswell's aid the Muse seems to 
 liave come with reluctance — he wishes to be witty and 
 to be humorous, but his wit is not happy, and his hu- 
 mour wants ease and grace. His want of success arises 
 not from unwillingness to descend to the region of rustic
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 249 
 
 merriment ; tlie truth is, he sometimes descends to() fur, 
 and laughs himself> whilst he fails to move others. 
 
 His song of " Jenny's Bawbee," partly the renovation 
 of an ancient lyric, is lively and satirical, and has ob- 
 tained public favour. Jenny draws up her suitors in 
 ludicrous array, and touches off their characters with 
 much acuteness ; but there is little that is new, and less 
 that is happy — the humour is the humour of situation 
 only : we laugh, but it is at the ludicrous predicament 
 in which some of the lovers are placed, not at the sallies 
 of humour with which they are assailed. His "Auld 
 Gudeman, ye're a drucken Carle," is natural and divert- 
 ing ; and we cannot avoid smiling at the union of folly 
 and age in the old pair, or at their hasty quarrel and 
 hastier reconciliation. The whole is, however, somewhat 
 vulgar : the simplicity has been praised, though it is 
 bald and ordinary ; all may be simple that is natural, 
 but all that is natural is not elegant. 
 
 Boswell's heroic songs are few ; there is some ardour in 
 the way in which he summons his heroes to the field, but 
 he has drawn no new picture of heroic enthusiasm, he has 
 thrown in no martial mirth, no unexpected pathos. He 
 knoAvs what he ought to do — he aims at it, but he wants 
 the patience or the art to stamp off with vigour or life 
 his own conceptions. I am grieved to think that his life, 
 a valuable one to his lady and his children, Avas cast 
 away in a dispute about an idle verse : his blood ought 
 not to have been spilt, save in a graver quarrel than 
 could arise from the end of a foolish sons. I feel more
 
 250 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 for Jiim who survives than for him who perished ; he 
 cannot always have a hot brow and a determined Iiand. 
 
 I now bid farewell to the acknowledged authors of 
 Scottish song. Though I am sensible of having omitted 
 some whose reputation many may think might have 
 secured them a place, and admitted others whose genius 
 some may question, I cannot accuse myself of having 
 excluded any whose works bear the mark of original 
 spirit, nor included any whose genius seems doubtful. 
 I might have swelled the amount of lyric poets with the 
 names of some to whom obscure traditional testimony 
 assigns a few of our favourite songs, but I thought it 
 best to be silent where I could not be sure. There is 
 still, however, a class of authors to whom we are largely 
 indebted for an ever-increasing stock of lyric pleasure, 
 and to whom we owe many songs of first-rate beauty 
 and excellence — I mean the anonymous authors, wlio, 
 like nightingales, are satisfied with charming us ^vithout 
 being seen, and whom we may question as Wordsworth 
 so beautifully questions the bird of summer : 
 
 O Cuckoo, may I call thee bird. 
 Or but a wandering voice.'' 
 
 To this source of lyric pleasure I have to acknowledge 
 myself indebted for as deep a knowledge of those strains 
 of pathos or humour which the heart of Scotland breathes, 
 as to the works of known poets ; and they who desire
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 251 
 
 to form an estimate of the varied genius of our national 
 songs must make themselves familiar with many verses 
 of mirth or sadness to which no author's name can he 
 added. We owe them, I imagine, more to the unlettered 
 than to the educated Muse, to the hasty or vagrant impulse 
 of some bright or clouded moment of human life, when 
 the heart could no longer contain itself, from its fulness 
 of sorrow or of joy. They seem all of one family, and 
 they involve all the defects and excellences of our 
 known poets ; they have a meekness in their mirth, a 
 modesty in their love, a calmness in their sorrow, a 
 quiet humour, and a gravity amid their most extra- 
 vagant strains, which give us an image of the nation. 
 Yet in many parts they possess a very peculiar and 
 striking beauty, altogether their own, or which they 
 share not to any very prominent extent with others — 
 I mean the religious awe which is breathed so softly 
 through some of our rudest lyrics. Amid the throbbings 
 of mutual love, or round the hearth of domestic affection, 
 this devout feeling circulates; and yet it is employed 
 with such happy skill, that religion rather lends grace 
 than character, rather embellishes by allusion than by a 
 more direct mode — she becomes the auxiliary rather 
 than the principal. This singular union seems per- 
 fectly consistent with the character of the nation— it 
 is a species of religious chivalry ; and in its presence 
 warmth never overflows into indelicacy, nor simplicity 
 of expression into coarseness or vulgarity. 
 
 Of the living autlutrs of lyric verse it is my wish to
 
 252 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 be silent — personal esteem might mingle with my cri- 
 ticisms ; and while I imagined myself judging Avith can- 
 dour, and estimating with care, I might only be record- 
 ing my own affections and partialities. I might, indeed, 
 praise the rapidity, the fire and martial animation of the 
 author of Marmion, the elegance and pathos of Camp- 
 bell, and the witty grace and native tenderness of Joanna 
 Baillie — I might say there was much truth and much 
 nature in James Hogg, and that if Lockhart sang as 
 freely and warmly of the chivalry of Scotland as of 
 the IMoors and Spaniards, his name would be one of the 
 foremost in lyric verse. 
 
 Of the songs which I have myself written — out of 
 many I have admitted a few, and these are mostly such 
 as had already escaped from my hand, and found their 
 way as old or new compositions into a variety of collec- 
 tions. Were I to admit many, men might accuse me 
 of vanity in seeking place too readily for my o^vn among 
 the works of more gifted spirits ; and were I to exclude 
 all, I should be open to the charge of idle pride, or ridi- 
 culous affectation. I am not even sure that I shall 
 escape the censure of malevolent criticism in the middle 
 course I have pursued : my wish in this was to please 
 others rather than to gratify myself, for where could I 
 wish my songs to be but among those of my native land .'' 
 
 I\ry wanderings in the wilderness of song now draw 
 to a close. As I have not altogether satisfied myself 
 Avitli the history which I have given of our lyric verse, 
 or with the characters of our song-writers, I am not vain
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 253 
 
 enough to believe I shall please others. I have done my 
 best — it has been my wish to speak with freedom, to 
 examine with care and to estimate the merits of each 
 song by the pleasure it gave to others as well as to myself. 
 In accepting the word Song in its extensive and ancient 
 Scottish meaning, I follow not only my own judgment 
 but that of others whose opinions in all matters of taste 
 are worthy of respect. I have not been over studious 
 respecting the arrangement of the songs : the dates of 
 their composition could not always be obtained ; yet 
 that seems the most natural order for their publication ; 
 and some such plan I would much more willingly follow 
 than the common mode of classing them under their 
 several heads of the pathetic or the humorous. An ar- 
 rangement so capricious could not well be followed in 
 songs so various as ours, where the tender and satiric, 
 the pathetic and the merry, come often in the course of 
 a couple of verses. In extracting songs from some of 
 our old ballads I have sought to preserve the story and to 
 express it in the language of the age to which it belonged : 
 such has long been the practice in the north with poets 
 as well as singers ; and I hope it will be felt that in 
 abating the length of these national rhymes I have not 
 lessened their graphic truth or dramatic vigour. I am 
 less afraid of incurring blame for the pains I have taken 
 in rendering many of our old songs more acceptable 
 to the eye of delicacy than I found them ; and in 
 ekeing out fragments and mutilated verses as much as 
 possible in the sense and spirit of the old. They who 
 desire our old verses to remain in dust or impurity will
 
 254 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 be displeased perliaps^ with the freedom of rny amend- 
 ments ; and they who seek out with a sensitive delicacy 
 for the Muse's transgressions against strict decorum 
 may think I have sympathised more than I ought with 
 the free language and open mirth of our ancestors. There 
 would be more wisdom in offending than prudence in 
 pleasing such unscrupling or scrupulous persons — the 
 thorn grows on the same branch with the rose; and 
 many over-warm or indecorous expressions are inter- 
 Avoven witii 
 
 Measures which the gray-hair'd minstrels sing. 
 When they make maidens weep. 
 
 In the notes, I have sought to illustrate our lyrics by 
 fragments of neglected or forgotten song, by story, by 
 anecdote, and by criticism. I have gleaned intelligence 
 from some hundreds of volumes, and obtained informa- 
 tion from many sources. It would encumber the page, 
 and embarrass the reader, were I to name every work 
 and every source, written or oral, from which my know- 
 ledge is drawn. Such idle display of research would not 
 secure me against the charge of inaccuracy by those who 
 choose to prefer it, nor against the imputation of dulness 
 by those (and may they be few !) who find me tedious and 
 uninstructive. 
 
 I commenced this desultory Introduction by address- 
 ing myself to one who has done more for the instruction 
 and delight of mankind than any author since the days 
 of Slmkspoarc. I imagined him seated beside mc, and
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 255 
 
 listening, mth his usual benevolence, to all I had to say 
 on a subject with which he was far better acquainted 
 than myself. If I have omitted all allusion to his pre- 
 sence as I wandered along, it was more from tenderness 
 to him than from any idle vanity of my own. It could 
 not be supposed that all I said would merit the sanction 
 of his judgment or his taste ; and had I named his name 
 at every will-o'-wisp turn of the narrative, and at every 
 opinion I expressed, it might have been surmised that I 
 Avished to burthen the quick with tlie dead, like the twin 
 brothers in the pathetic story of Pitscottie. I had no 
 such wish. When the sloe hung its fruit under the 
 leaves of the plum, the sharp flavour betrayed the pa- 
 rentage ; and the bloom of the hare-bell was not mistaken 
 for that of the rose, though mingled Avith it in the gar- 
 land. I would that the work were more worthy of the 
 subject and of him under whose name I have sought to 
 shelter it ; — ^but I have done my best, and if the half of 
 what I have performed obtains the approbation of my 
 native country, I shall be content. 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 London, February, 1825.
 
 Nae siiaw wi' crimson will I mix. 
 To spread upon my maiden's cheeks ; 
 And syne th' unmeaning name prefix, 
 
 Miranda, Chloe, Phyllis : 
 I'll bring nae simile from Jove, 
 My height of extacy to prove ; — 
 Nor sighing — thus — present my love 
 
 With roses and with lilies.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 
 
 The king sits in Dunfermline town 
 
 Drinking the blude red wine : 
 O where will I get a skilfu' skipper 
 
 To sail this ship of mine ? 
 O up then spake an eldern knight. 
 
 Sat at the king's right knee, — 
 Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor 
 
 This day that sails the sea. 
 
 The king has written a braid letter, 
 
 And seal'd it wi' his hand, 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
 
 Was walking on the strand. 
 The first line that Sir Patrick read, 
 
 A loud laugh laughed he ; 
 The next line that Sir Patrick read. 
 
 The tear blinded his ee. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 '258 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 O who is he lias done this deed, 
 
 And told the king of me, 
 To send ns out this time of the year 
 
 To sail upon the sea ? 
 Be't wind, be't weet, be't snow, be't sleet. 
 
 Our ship maun sail the faem — 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 
 we maun bring her hame. 
 
 Make ready, make ready, my merry men a'. 
 
 Our gude ship sails the morn. 
 Now ever alake, my master dear, 
 
 1 fear a deadly storm ; — 
 Yestre'eu I saw the new moon 
 
 With the auld moon in her arm ; 
 And if we gang to sea, master, 
 I fear we'll come to harm. 
 
 They hadna sailed a league, a league, 
 
 A league, but barely three ; 
 When the sky grew dark, the wind blew loud. 
 
 And gurly grew the sea : 
 The sails were rent, the topmasts lap — 
 
 It was a deadly storm ; 
 And the waves came owre the broken ship 
 
 And a' her sides were torn. 
 
 O where will I get a gude sailor 
 
 To take my helm in hand, 
 Till I go up to the tall topmast, 
 
 And see if I can spy land ?
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 259 
 
 O hero, am I, a suilor gude. 
 
 To take your helm in hand, 
 Till yon go up to the tall topmast — 
 
 But I fear ye'll ne'er spy land. 
 
 He hadna gane a step, a step, 
 
 A step, but barely three. 
 When a bolt lap out o' our goodly ship 
 
 And in came the salt sea. 
 O laith laith were our Scottish lords, 
 
 To weet their cork-heeled shoon ; 
 But lang before the play was played. 
 
 They wet their hats aboon. 
 
 The ladies wrung their fingers white. 
 
 The maidens tore their hair ; 
 And all for sake of their true loves. 
 
 Whom they'll see never mair. 
 O lang, lang may our ladies sit 
 
 Wi' their fans into their hand. 
 Before they see Sir Patrick Speiis 
 
 Come sailing to the strand ! 
 
 And lang, lang may the maidens sit 
 
 Wi' the gowd kames in their hair, 
 A waiting for their own true loves ! 
 
 For them they'll ne'er see mair. 
 Half owre, half owre frae Aberdour, 
 
 It's fifty fathom deep ; 
 
 And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens 
 
 Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 
 
 s2
 
 ^00 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 I believe, with tradition, that much of this ballad is 
 very old; nearly as old, perhaps, as the time of its 
 story, the days of the Fair Maiden of Norway. Many 
 curious copies have been published ; and Sir Walter 
 Scott and ]Mr. Jamieson have augmented, from tradi- 
 tion, the original verses printed by Bishop Percy, to 
 more than double the number. The catastrophe is not 
 rendered more striking, though many characteristic in- 
 cidents are added. Certainly the original story is more 
 concise than ancient ballads commonly are ; yet the new 
 version of the narrative seems inconsistent. I can see 
 little to make Sir Patrick weep in the second line of 
 the verse, since he laughed loud on reading the first ; 
 for the command to sail to Norway is given in the 
 first and repeated in the second. See how naturally 
 the current of the story flows on in the old copy. 
 The king's command is only expressed in the alarm 
 of Sir Patrick and the orders which he gives his ma- 
 riners; the ominous appearance of the double moon 
 is mentioned with the awe of a sailor for supernatural 
 occurrences — the ship sails — the predicted storm comes 
 on ; and, half-way from Scotland to Norway, she goes 
 down with our Scottish nobles. 
 
 I have enriched the old and simple narrative, to which 
 I have adhered, with a number of the new \^erses : to 
 one to whom the ballad is new — if such a person can be 
 found, the whole will appear struck out at the same 
 time and with the same spirit. Imperfect as it perhaps 
 is, we have little in the language which excels it ; and 
 I never heard of any one who was unmoved by it, ex- 
 cept the singular author of Vathek : he calls it a silly
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. ^01 
 
 ballad. It is naturalized in Germany, by the beautiful 
 version of Professor Herder. 
 
 It is imagined, by one who will seldom be found mis- 
 taken, that Sir Patrick was despatched by Alexander 
 the Third to bring; his 2;rand-dau<rhter from Norway ; 
 and such has ever been the traditional history which I 
 have heard of this historical ballad. The fears of Sir 
 Patrick for a winter voyage in the northern seas were 
 common to Scotland : by a law of James the Third, 
 no ship is allo^^'ed to be freighted out of the realm with 
 staple goods, from the feast of Simon' s-day and Jude, till 
 the feast of the Purification of Our Lady at Candle- 
 mas. 
 
 In three various copies the ship sinks in as many dif- 
 ferent places : " Forty miles off Aberdeen," — " Half 
 owre, half owre frae Aberdour," — and " At the back of 
 auld St. Johnston's dykes." Such variations are ever 
 found in our old songs before they are secured by pub- 
 lication from the innovations and changes of tradition. 
 
 IMony was the feather bed 
 
 That flotter'd on the faem. 
 And mony was the gude Scots lord 
 
 Gaed awa that ne'er came hame ; 
 And mony was the fatherless bairn 
 
 That lay at hame greetin'. 
 
 This is one of the verses preserved by Jamicson ; it 
 is very characteristic.
 
 262 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 GUDE WALLACE. 
 
 A lady sat by the greenwood side. 
 
 And sore she sighed, and thus she sang : 
 O where art thou now, gude Wallace .'' 
 
 O wight Wallace, ye tarry lang ! 
 Gude Wallace took off his bright steel cap, 
 
 And dropt his mantle aneath his knee ; 
 What tidings, what tidings, fair lady, he said, 
 
 And who holds rule in the low countree ? 
 
 In yon hostel house are fifteen knights. 
 
 Thus to gude Wallace that lady sang, — 
 And they have taen hiui, black Douglas ; 
 
 Their meanest word is head and lians;. 
 Gude Wallace put on his bright steel cap. 
 
 And his brown s^'ord in hand took he : 
 Now will I down to yon hostel house. 
 
 Those fifteen southron knights to see. 
 
 I'll win broad lands, said one proud knight. 
 
 O'er which a hawk would fail to flee ; 
 A stately tower and a lady's love. 
 
 When I the gude Wallace shall see. 
 A loud laugh laughed he, the black Douglas — 
 
 I'll change my knighthood with a knave. 
 When you gain more from the gude Wallace 
 
 Than a single blow and a bloody grave.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 263 
 
 Rude were the oaths, and red was the wine. 
 
 When a hasty step came to the door ; 
 On a bloody field, thought he, black Douglas, 
 
 I've heard that stately step before. 
 Now forward churl ! Sir Aylmer said, 
 
 Three buffets from me shalt thou dree, 
 Unless ye come from green Nithsdale 
 
 With news of wight Wallace to me. 
 
 Small news I bring from him, gude Wallace, 
 
 And grim the hero smiled and stern, — 
 He sends a churlish hand to bless 
 
 You with this burly blade of airn. 
 And he smote right, and he smote left. 
 
 He smote behind and he smote before. 
 Till all the fifteen southron knights 
 
 Lay drenched and dying in their gore. 
 
 Even as he stood and saw them lie. 
 
 Their blood yet on his sword was het, 
 When a flock of armed Englishmen 
 
 Leapt from their steeds around the yett. 
 Come forth, come forth, noAv wight Wallace ! 
 
 This is the day that thou maun die. 
 I lippen more unto God, he said : 
 
 Although I be but ill-wordie. 
 
 That lady came— all aneath the moon, 
 
 With white hands held to heaven, she stood, 
 
 Till twelve of fifteen Englishmen 
 Even at her feet lay in their blood-
 
 264 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Ye'll run from me^ quo' the wight Wallace, 
 When the bird can from the falcon flee ; 
 
 And he followed fast him, the gude Wallace, 
 And smote them all by the greenwood tree. 
 
 He wiped his sword there, the gude Wallace, 
 
 And cleansed his hands and brow from blood ; 
 I fight but faint, quo' the gude Wallace, 
 
 It's three days nigh since I tasted food. 
 I'd rather walk 'mid southron blood. 
 
 Wet-footed on the lily lea, 
 Than call the King of England lord. 
 
 With all the gold he can give to me. 
 
 Most part of the " Gude Wallace" seems of high an- 
 tiquity. In endeavouring to unite the remains of several 
 songs into one consistent story, I have sought to avoid 
 ottering violence to the meaning, the character, or tlie 
 words, — dismissing only what was silly or vulgar, and 
 retaining the simple and direct homeliness of tlie frag- 
 ments. The measures of these mutilated songs or chants 
 are various — the story is much the same, and the 
 aim of all is alike, namely, to exhibit the personal 
 prowess, undaunted daring, and unequalled strength of 
 the favourite hero. One makes him strike up the door 
 and confront his enemies; another gives him the garb, 
 tlie vocation, and the privileges of a minstrel ; while a 
 third disguises him in the patched covering of a mendi- 
 cant, and makes him, for his further security, " crook his 
 leg and bow his knee," like the joyous beggar in the 
 .song of James tlie Fifth- I have adoj)tcd the way which
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 2G5 
 
 seemed most consistent with the open, undismayed, and 
 generous courage of his character. As an example of the 
 old verses of one of the fragments, I can only spare room 
 for the following : — 
 
 " Though lame of a leg and blind of an e'e. 
 You're as like William Wallace as ever I did see." 
 
 It would seem that the personal strength, and stature 
 and martial beauty of Wallace, had obtained more than 
 justice in the songs of the minstrels and traditions of the 
 people. His beauty is described as captivating as his 
 sword was resistless, his swiftness of foot unmatched, and 
 his courage and skill equal to the most marvellous deeds. 
 As the time of his actions grew more remote, a fabulous 
 strensth and stature were ascribed to him, and an ancient 
 and noble matron is made in the romance of Boece — who 
 dare call it history? — to describe him to the king as 
 possessing twice the strength of the renowned Bruce. 
 
 To his purity of motive, and fortitude and heroism, 
 justice has been done by posterity ; not alone in the cold 
 parenthesis of Thomson, 
 
 (Great patriot hero, iU-requited chief!) 
 
 but by the eulogiums of the wise, the gifted, and the 
 good. He has been accused of cruelty : read Edward's 
 invasions, and then read the admonition of Wallace to 
 the i\Ionks of Hexmondsham, when he invaded England 
 in his turn. — " Abide with mc, for my men arc evil-
 
 266 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 doers, and I may not chastise them." He has been called 
 savage, because the hero who saw his country deluged 
 with blood, his father and brethren slain, his kinsmen 
 treacherously murdered, and his wife burnt to death in 
 her castle, exclaimed, when gold and lands were offered 
 as the price of his faith, 
 
 I love better to see the Southron die. 
 Than gold or land that they can give to me. 
 
 He was a man much too noble for his times ; and the 
 crime of his death will for ever stain the memory of that 
 martial but ruthless barbarian who spilt his blood for 
 seeking to save his country. 
 
 I am sorry to deprive my favourite borough, Loch- 
 maben, of the honour of having given a dinner to Sir 
 William Wallace ; but I was more anxious to conclude 
 with something of a sentiment, than with a desire to 
 dine. A fragment from which much of this song is 
 selected was printed in Johnson's Musical Museum. 
 The first verse makes him lament, that between him and 
 his righteous king there was some ill seed sown. At that 
 time there was no king in Scotland whom he would 
 have wished to serve. The verse has no connexion with 
 the rest of the story.
 
 SCOTTISH SOxN'GS. 267 
 
 THE GABERLUNYIE MAN. 
 
 Tlio pawky auld carle came o'er the lee, 
 Wi' many good e'ens and days to me. 
 Saying, Goodwife, for your coiirtesie. 
 
 Will you lodge a silly poor man ? 
 The night ^vas cauld, the carle was wat. 
 And doAvn ayont the ingle he sat ; 
 My daughter's shoulders he 'gan to clap, 
 
 And cadgily ranted and sang. 
 
 O wow ! quo' he, were I as free 
 As first when I saw this countrie. 
 How blythe and merry Avad I be ! 
 
 And I wad never think lansr. 
 He grew canty, and she grew fain ; 
 But little did her auld minny ken 
 What thir slee twa thegither were say'ng. 
 
 When wooing they were sae thrang. 
 
 Ajid O ! quo' he, an ye were as black 
 As e'er the crown of my daddy's hat, 
 'Tis I wad lay thee by my back, 
 
 And awa' wi' me thou shou'd gang. 
 And O ! quo' she, an I were as white 
 As e or the snaw lay on the dike, 
 I'd deed me braw and lady-like, 
 
 And awa' with tlice I wou'd iranij-
 
 268 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Between the twa was made a plot ; 
 They rose a wee hefore the cock. 
 And wilily they shot the lock. 
 
 And fast to the bent are they gane. 
 Up in the morn the auld wife raise. 
 And at her leisure pat on her claise ; 
 Syne to the servant's bed she gaes. 
 
 To speer for the silly poor man. 
 
 She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay ; 
 The strae was cauld, he was away. 
 She clapt her hands, cry'd, Waladay, 
 
 For some of our gear will be gane ! 
 Some ran to coffer, and some to kist. 
 But nought was stown that could be mist ; 
 She danc'd her lane, cry'd. Praise be blest, 
 
 I have lodg'd a leal poor man ! 
 
 Since naething's awa', as we can learn. 
 
 The kirn 's to kirn, and milk to earn, 
 
 Gae but the house, lass, and waken my bairn. 
 
 And bid her come quickly ben. 
 The servant gaed where the daughter lay. 
 The sheets were cauld, she was away. 
 And fast to her goodwife did say. 
 
 She's aff with the Gaberlunyie-man. 
 
 O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, 
 And haste ye find these traitors again ; 
 For she's be burnt, and he's be slain, 
 Tlic wcarifu' Gabcrlunyie-man.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 209 
 
 Some rade upo' horse, some ran afit. 
 The wife was wud, and out o' her wit, 
 She could na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit, 
 But she curs'd ay, and she bann'd. 
 
 Mean time far 'hind out o'er tlie lee, 
 Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see, 
 The twa, with kindly sport and glee. 
 
 Cut frae a new cheese a Avhang : 
 The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith. 
 To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. 
 Quo' she, to leave thee I will he laith. 
 
 My winsome Gaberlunyie-man. 
 
 O kend my minny I were wi' you, 
 Ill-faurdly wad she crook her mou' ; 
 Sic a poor man she'd never trow, 
 
 After the Gaberlunyie-man. 
 My dear, quo' he, ye're yet o'er young. 
 And hae na learn'd the beggar's tongue. 
 To follow me frae town to to^vn, 
 
 And carry the Gaberlunyie on. 
 
 Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread. 
 
 And spindles and whorles for them wha heed, 
 
 AVhilk is a gentle trade indeed. 
 
 To carry the Gaberlunyie on. 
 I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee. 
 And draw a black clout o'er my ee ; 
 A cripple or blind they will ca' me, 
 
 While we shall be merry and sing.
 
 270 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 This exquisite song has obtained its royal author, 
 James the Fifth, more fame among his subjects than all 
 the use he made of his sceptre. It is supposed to com- 
 memorate one of his many intrigues ; for the adven- 
 tures of a military and amorous nature, which tradition 
 ascribes to him, would fill a volume. But the disguises 
 he assumed, and the night journeys which he xuider- 
 took, are imagined to have been less for the purpose of 
 redressing of wrongs, than with the wish to admire the 
 beauty of the Scottish dames — and his admiration was 
 sometimes carried to a great height, and threatened to 
 cost him dear. It is related, more on the authority of 
 popular belief than historical certainty, that James 
 wandered about the country like a tinker, or pedler ; 
 and wove his adventures into many humorous songs, 
 all of which, except one or two, are lost. IMemory was 
 never worse employed than in remembering verses whicli 
 ought to have descended to oblivion ; and in forgetting 
 the songs of king James, if they had the merit of the 
 Gaberlunyie-man. I know not where a more lively 
 picture of living life, or a story of rustic intrigue, told 
 with such naivete and discretion, is to be found. Half 
 of the ancient mirth has passed from our lyric poetry — 
 Ave have more pathos and more passion ; but we have no 
 open laughter — no unextinguishable merriment.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 271 
 
 WHEN BANNERS ARE WAVING. 
 
 When banners are wavinir. 
 
 And lances a-pushing ; 
 When cajitains are shouting. 
 
 And war-horses rushing : 
 When cannon are roaring-. 
 
 And hot bullets flying. 
 He that would honour win 
 
 Must not fear dvins-. 
 
 Though shafts fly so thick. 
 
 That it seems to be snowino- 
 Though streamlets ivith blood 
 
 IMore than water are flowin 
 Though ^vith sabre and bullet 
 
 Our bravest are dying. 
 We speak of revenge, but 
 
 We ne'er speak of flyino-. 
 
 Come, stand to it heroes. 
 
 The heathen are cominc: • 
 Horsemen are round the walls. 
 
 Riding and running : 
 Maidens and matrons all. 
 
 Arm ! arm ! are crying ; 
 From petards the wildfire 's 
 
 Flashing and flying. 
 
 OP •
 
 272 SCOTTISH SONCIS. 
 
 The trumpets from turrets liigli 
 
 Loudly are braying. 
 The steeds for the onset 
 
 Are snorting and neighing ; 
 As waves in the ocean 
 
 The dark plumes are dancing ; 
 As stars in the blue sky 
 
 The helmets are glancing. 
 
 Their ladders are planting. 
 
 Their sabres are sweeping ; 
 Now swords from our sheaths 
 
 By the thousand are leaping ; 
 Like the flash of the levin 
 
 Ere men hearken thunder. 
 Swords gleam, and the steel caps 
 
 Are cloven asunder. 
 
 The shouting has ceased. 
 
 And the flashing of cannon ! 
 I looked from the turret 
 
 For crescent and pennon : 
 As flax touched by fire. 
 
 As hail in the river, 
 They were smote, they were fallen, 
 
 And had melted for ever. 
 
 I found a part of this song in a rare A'olume, known 
 among the curious in lyric lore by the name of " The 
 Aberdeen Cantus." It appeared very corrupted, and 
 certainly very obscure. It c-Dnunoncod bv singing the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 273 
 
 praise of Constantine, and his prowess against the in- 
 fidels, and then drew a picture of a siege which the 
 christian knights were enduring from the pagans. 
 
 Captains in open field 
 
 On their foes rushing ; 
 Gentlemen second them 
 
 With their pikes jiushing ; 
 Engineers in the trench. 
 
 Earth, earth upthrowing ; 
 Gunpowder in the mines 
 
 Pagans upblowing. 
 
 Portcullies in the ports 
 
 They are down letting ; 
 Burghers come flocking in 
 
 To their hands setting ; 
 Ladders against the nail 
 
 They are uprearinf 
 
 't- ' 
 
 Women great timber logs 
 To the walls bearing. 
 
 These verses are very graphic. This is one of the 
 first of our songs which ventured to sing of the weapons 
 of modern warf^ire — pikes, petards, and gun-bullets. 
 The author's name is unknown. 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 074 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 NIGHT IS NIGH GONE. 
 
 Hey, now the day's dawing, 
 The jolly cock's crowing ; 
 The eastern sky's glowing, 
 
 Stars fade one by one ; 
 The thistle-cock's crying 
 On lovers long lying, 
 Cease vowing and sighing. 
 
 The night is nigh gone. 
 
 The fields are o'crflowing 
 With gowans all glowing, 
 And white lilies growing 
 
 A thousand as one ; 
 The sweet ring-dove cooing. 
 His love notes renewing. 
 Now moaning, now sueing. 
 
 The night is nigh gone. 
 
 The season excelling 
 
 In scented flowers smelling, 
 
 To kind love compelling 
 
 Our hearts every one ; 
 With sweet ballads moving 
 The maids we are loving, 
 ]\Iid musing and roving 
 
 The night is nigh gone.
 
 sroTTISM SONGS. !-.i75 
 
 Of war ami fair women 
 
 Tlie youiifif knights are dreaming, 
 
 With bright breastplates gleaming, 
 
 And phimed helmets on ; 
 The barb'd steed neighs lordly, 
 And shakes his mane proudly. 
 For war-trumpets loudly 
 
 Say night is nigh gone. 
 
 I see the flags flowing. 
 The warriors all glowing, 
 And, snorting and blowing. 
 
 The steeds rushing on ; 
 The lances are crashing, 
 Out broad blades come flashing, 
 iMid shouting and dashing — 
 
 Tlie night is nigh gone. 
 
 In seeking to render this beautiful song of Alexander 
 Montgomery's into modern language, the peculiarity of 
 the rhyme obliged me more than I wished to depart from 
 the strict meaning of the original, and seek for matter 
 more tractable. It is singular, that out of the fifty-six 
 lines which compose the original, so far has pronunciation 
 suflTered a change, that only eighteen lines are spoken in 
 the way in which the poet wrote them : all the others 
 are deficient in quantity. The ancient mode of pro- 
 nunciation would sound exceedingly ungraceful in song 
 now ; and when Ave have to sing conversa-ti-on and 
 comman-de-ment, to fill up the measure of church- 
 
 X 2
 
 076 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 melody in our translation of the Psalms of David, we 
 are sensible that the superfluous syllables have long since 
 died out of spoken language. Still I think many of our 
 words might have been allowed to retain their ancient 
 quota of S3^11ables : " I bear a charm-ed life" is much 
 better than " I bear a charm'd life ; and admonish-ed 
 and astonish-ed would have sounded better, and looked 
 better, had they remained unabridged. 
 
 THE JOLLY BEGGAR. 
 
 There was a jolly beggar. 
 
 And a begging he was boun. 
 And he took up his quarters 
 
 Into a landart town : 
 He wadna lie into the barn. 
 
 Nor wad he in the byre. 
 But in ahint the ha' door, 
 Or else afore the fire. 
 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night ; 
 We'll go no more a roving, 
 
 Let the moon shine e'er so bright. 
 
 The beggar's bed was made at e'en, 
 Wi' gude clean straw and hay. 
 
 And in ahint the ha' door 
 'Twas there the beggar lay.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 277 
 
 Up gat the gudeman's daughter. 
 
 All for to bar the door. 
 And there she saw the beggarman 
 Standing in the floor. 
 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night. 
 Though maids be e'er so loving. 
 And the moon shine e'er so bright. 
 
 He took the lassie in his arms. 
 
 Fast to the bed he ran — 
 O hoolie, hoolie wi' me. Sir, 
 Ye'll waken our gudeman. 
 The beggar was a cunning loon, 
 And ne'er a word he spake — 
 But lang afore the cock had cra\vn 
 Thus he began to crack : 
 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night. 
 Save when the moon is moving, 
 And the stars are shining bright 
 
 Have ye ony dogs about this town, 
 
 Maiden, tell me true .'' 
 And what wad ye do wi' them, 
 
 ]\f y hinney and my dow .^ 
 They'll rive a my meal-powks, 
 
 And do me mickle wrang. 
 () dool for the doing o't, 
 
 Are ye the poor man .''
 
 278 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 A roving in the night. 
 
 Nor sit a sweet maid loving, 
 By coal or candle light. 
 
 Then np she gat the meal-powks. 
 
 And fiang them o'er the wa', 
 The deil gae wi' the meal-powks. 
 
 My maiden fame and a' ; 
 1 took ye for some gentleman. 
 
 At least the laird o' Brodie — 
 O dool for the doing o't. 
 Are ye the poor bodie ? 
 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night. 
 Although the moon is moving, 
 And stars are shining bright. 
 
 He took the lassie in his arms 
 
 And gae her kisses three. 
 And four-and-twenty hunder merk 
 
 To pay the nurse's fee : 
 He took a wee horn frae his side 
 
 And blew baith loud and shrill. 
 And four-and-twenty belted knights 
 Came skipping o'er the hiU. 
 And we'll go no more a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night. 
 
 Nor sit a sweet maid loving, 
 
 By coal or candle light.
 
 .SCOTTISH SONGS. ii79 
 
 And he took out his little knife. 
 
 Loot a' his duddies fa'. 
 And he was the brawest gentleman 
 
 That was amang them a'. 
 The beggar was a clever loon, 
 And he lap shoulder height, 
 O ay for sicken quarters 
 As I got yesternight ! 
 
 And we'll ay gang a roving, 
 
 A roving in the night. 
 For then the maids are loving, 
 And stars are shining bright. 
 
 This popular song is ascribed to our fifth James, 
 and is said to be a strict poetical account of one of his 
 adventures, rather than a pleasant tale of imaginary gal- 
 lantry. I have always imagined the effect of the story 
 impaired by the ostentatious summons of the four-and- 
 twenty belted knights, and the display of personal finery. 
 I wish he had neither winded his horn nor disencumbered 
 himself of his humble garb. Horace Walpole says there 
 is something very ludicrous in the picture of the girl's 
 distress on imaginin"; that her first favour missed the 
 laird of Brodie, and had been squandered on a beggar. 
 In making the chorus recur less frequently, I have only 
 sought to free the story from an encumbrance which im- 
 pairs its effect ; and in abating the licentiousness I have 
 endeavoured to retain all the liumour. The royal author 
 died of a broken heart in the thirty-first year of his age. 
 A gentleman of the north of Scotland gave me a rather
 
 ^80 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 curious and lively variation of this royal ballad, in which 
 the local allusions are dra\\'n from a more northern 
 source than in any other copy. Like the original, it is 
 much more witty than delicate, and more lively than 
 moral. I can find a modest specimen. The maiden, 
 liaving disposed of the meal-powks, gives a glance at 
 her unceremonious lover, and adds the following clever 
 picture : 
 
 An ee like ony wild hawk, 
 
 A skin like ony swan ; 
 A gallant grip, a gentle lip, 
 
 To be a poor man. 
 Ye may beg down the Dee bank, 
 
 Sae may ye down the Don ; 
 Then come and dawte me twice a week, 
 And oftener gin ye can. 
 
 IMany of our finest songs are injured in their sentiment 
 and their story by the perpetual interposition of the 
 chorus. In more ancient times, a multitude of voices 
 seized on the repeated part, and spared the voice of the 
 singer for exertion in the body of the song. Some of the 
 border bards having composed scoffing ballads concerning 
 Henry the Eighth, he complained to King James of the 
 liberties which the Scotch had taken with his person 
 and his morals. To this the royal poet returned a very 
 characteristic answer : that he had great dependence o)i 
 the discretion and delicacy of his })eoj)le ; and lie rather 
 imagined the offensive ballads to be the secret produc- 
 tions of his royal brother's own subjects.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 281 
 
 SONG OF THE jMAIDENS. 
 
 Ye ladies all of England, 
 
 Now wring your hands and mourn ; 
 For many a lord and lover 
 
 Will fall at Bannockburn. 
 To win their spurs of silver. 
 
 Go all your gallant grooms : 
 I see the gloves of ladye-loves 
 
 Dance mid their dancing plumes. 
 Weep all ye dames of England — 
 
 Your mirth has lasted long ; 
 Now in your looks be sadness. 
 
 And sorrow in your song. 
 
 And why should we have sadness ? 
 
 And wherefore should we sigh ? 
 Saint George, for merry England ! 
 
 I hear our horsemen cry. 
 And see their war plumes waving 
 
 Black as the raven's wings ; 
 Our fatal shafts are flying — 
 
 Hark to the thrilling strings ! 
 And see King Ed^vard's standard 
 
 Floats on the buxom breeze ; 
 Now all is merry England's 
 
 That's girdled by the seas.
 
 Ji82 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Here comes your lordly chivalry 
 
 All charging in a row ; 
 And there your gallant bowmen 
 
 Let fly their shafts like snow. 
 Look how yon old man clasps his hands, 
 
 And hearken to his cry — 
 " Alas ! alas ! for Scotland 
 
 When England's arrows fly !" 
 Yet weep, ye dames of England 
 
 For twenty summers past ; 
 Ye danced and sang while Scotland wept- 
 
 Such mirth can never last. 
 
 And how can I do less than laugh 
 
 When England's lords are nigh .'' 
 It is the maids of Scotland 
 
 JMust learn to wail and sigh ; 
 For here spurs princely Hereford — 
 
 Hark to his clashing steel ; 
 And there's Sir Philip ]\Iusgrave, 
 
 All gore from helm to heel ; 
 And yonder is stout d'Argentine ; 
 
 And here comes, \vith a sweep. 
 The fiery speed of Gloucester — 
 
 Say, wherefore should I weep.'' 
 
 Weep all ye English maidens, 
 Lo ! Bannock brook's in flood ! 
 
 Not with its own sweet waters. 
 But England's noblest blood.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 283 
 
 For see, your arrow-shower has ceased, 
 
 The thrilling bow-string's mute ; 
 And where rides liery Gloucester ? 
 
 All trodden under foot. 
 Wail all ye dames of England, 
 
 No more shall iVIusgrave know 
 The sound of the shrill trumpet — 
 
 And Argentine is low. 
 
 Thy chivalry, proud England, 
 
 Have turned the rein to fly ; 
 And on them rushes Randolph — 
 
 Hark ! Edward Bruce's cry. 
 IMid reeking blood the Douglas rides 
 
 As one rides in a river ; 
 And here the good King Robert comes — 
 
 And Scotland's free for ever. 
 Now weep, ye dames of England, 
 
 And let your sons prolong 
 The Bruce — the Bruce of Bannockburn, 
 
 In many a sorrowing song. 
 
 Many songs- were made in honour of Wallace and 
 Bruce : Fabyan quotes, and Caxton repeats, a verse of 
 a popular lyric, sung by the Scottish maidens and min- 
 strels in derision of the English, and in honour of the 
 hero of Bannockburn. To eke out the old fra<rment in 
 the feeling and language of that remote age was a flight 
 beyond my power, and I have not tried it. What I 
 have done, unequal to my wishes as it is, has given me 
 an opportunity of noticing again the oldest specimen of 
 our lyric poetry.
 
 284 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Baston, a Carmelite friar, accompanied Edward the 
 Second to Stirling, for the purpose of singing of his 
 master's renown and victory. He was taken prisoner, 
 and paid, says Lord Hailes, a poet's ransom by com- 
 posing a song commemorating the defeat of his country- 
 men. It is commended by Fordun in language which 
 may be mistaken for censure ; the poem, however, is 
 much more curious than inspired. Of Sir Giles de 
 Argentine, he says, 
 
 Nobilis Argenten, pugil inclyte, dulcis Egidi, 
 Vix scieram mentem cum te succumbere vidi. 
 
 The first line mentions the three chief requisites of a 
 true knight — noble birth, valour, and courteousness. 
 He was a hero of romance in real life. When the En- 
 glish were broken, and Edward fled, he was urged to 
 retreat. — " It is not my wont to fly," he exclaimed ; 
 and spurring his horse, he shouted out — " An Argen- 
 tine ! an Argentine !" and died on the Scottish spears. 
 Some of the songs of that period are referred to by 
 Fordun. Four rude lines of scoffing verse were made 
 on the siege of Berwick. " Edward the First punished," 
 says the historian, " this untimely pleasantry by the 
 slaughter of twenty-seven thousand Scots when he took 
 the toAvn." Women and children were probably included 
 in this unlikely number ; for I should as soon suspect 
 Edward of ferocity, as the historian of falsehood. When 
 Scotland sent only thirty tliousand men to Falkirk and 
 Bannockburn, it was not probable she could spare so 
 many to defend Berwick.
 
 SCOTTISH SONCJS. 285 
 
 LORD RANDAL. 
 
 Where have ye been hunting, 
 
 Lord Randal, my son ? 
 Where have ye been hunting. 
 
 My handsome young man ? 
 In yon wild wood, O mother. 
 
 So make my bed soon ; 
 For I'm wae, and I'm weary. 
 
 And fain would lie down. 
 
 Where got ye your dinner. 
 
 Lord Randal, my son ? 
 Where got ye your dinner, 
 
 ]\Iy handsome young man ? 
 O, I dined \vith my true love. 
 
 So make my bed soon ; 
 For I'm wae, and I'm weary. 
 
 And fain would lie down. 
 
 O, what was your dinner. 
 Lord Randal, my son ? 
 
 O, what was your dinner, 
 My handsome young man ? 
 
 Eels boiled in broo, mother, 
 So make my bed soon ; 
 
 For I'm ^vae, and I'm weary 
 ■ And fain would lie down.
 
 286 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 O, where did she find them. 
 
 Lord Randal, my son ? 
 O, where did she catch them, 
 
 My handsome young man ? 
 'Neath the bush of brown brekan, 
 
 So make my bed soon ; 
 For I'm vvae, and I'm weary, 
 
 And fain would lie down. 
 
 Now, where are your bloodhounds, 
 
 Lord Randal, my son ? 
 What came of your bloodhounds. 
 
 My handsome young man ? 
 They swelled and died, mother. 
 
 And sae maun I soon — 
 I am wae, and I'm weary. 
 
 And fain would lie down. 
 
 I fear you are poisoned, 
 * Lord Randal, my son ; 
 
 I fear you are poisoned. 
 My handsome young man : 
 
 yes, I am poisoned. 
 
 So make my bed soon — 
 
 1 am sick, sick at heart. 
 And I fain would He down. 
 
 I have had the good fortune to recover a verse which 
 renders this very pathetic song perfect. I need hardly 
 say, that it is the fourth ; for tlie song is an universal
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. J>87 
 
 favourite, and the introduction of a new and cliarac- 
 teristic verse cannot remain undiscovered. It is generally 
 printed, and as generally sung, under the name of Lord 
 Ronald ; but I willingly follow, with Sir Walter Scott, 
 the authority of an Ettrick forest copy in calling the 
 hero Randal. One of the old verses seems to favour 
 the name of Ronald, by laying the tragic scene farther 
 north. 
 
 O, where have ye been, Lord Ronald, my son .'' 
 O, where have ye been, my handsome young man ? 
 At the house of JMarr, mother, so make my Ijed soon ; 
 For I'm wearied with hunting, and fain would lie doAvn. 
 
 There is, likewise, another verse worthy, perhaps, of 
 preservation ; but as it protracted the narrative of the 
 story without adding much information, I have ven- 
 tured to omit it. . 
 
 O, what got your bloodliounds. Lord Ronald, my son ? 
 O, what got your bloodhounds, my handsome young man ? 
 They lapt the broo, mother, so make my bed soon — 
 I am wearied with hunting, and fain would lie down. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott has the more willingly followed the 
 traditional variation, since he thinks it not impossible 
 that the song may have originally regarded the untimely 
 death of the great Thomas Randal, Earl of Murray. 
 He perished at the moment when his services were 
 most necessary to his country ; and for this reason, per-
 
 288 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 hapsj our historians, and the prudent and accurate Bar- 
 bour among them, impute his death to poison. Fordun 
 repeats, and Boece, who believed every thing, echoes 
 the same story, and charges his murder on Edward the 
 Third. Tradition lends its aid, and minstrelsy has 
 assisted, in spreading a tale which the research and 
 wisdom of Lord Hailes have not been able to dissipate. 
 He was said to have been poisoned by a monk. 
 
 A curious account of the death of King John intro- 
 duces a monk, who was eminent for medical skill, 
 boasting that he could give the king such a wassail as 
 would make England rejoice. " Then went the monk 
 into a garden, and found a toad therein, and took her 
 up and put her in a cup, and filled it with good ale, 
 and pricked her in every place in the cup till the 
 venom came out, and brought it before the king, and 
 knelt and said — ' Sir, vassail — for never in your life 
 drank ye such a cup.' ' Begin, monk,' said the king ; 
 and tlie monk drank a great draught, and took the king 
 the cup, and the king also drank a great draught and 
 set dov/n the cup. The king was anon full evil at ease, 
 and commanded to remove the table, and asked for the 
 monk, and one told him he ^vas dead, for his Avomb 
 liad burst asunder." The king survived this infernal 
 draught eleven days. The adders from below the braken 
 bush had the same effect on Lord Randal and his blood- 
 hounds. There is a nursery song which transforms the 
 handsome young hunter into a child, and poisons him by 
 a false stepmother.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. S89 
 
 THE TWO RAVENS. 
 
 There Avere two ravens sat on a tree. 
 Large and black as black might be. 
 And one unto the other 'gan say. 
 Where shall we go and dine to-day ? 
 Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea ? 
 Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree ? 
 
 As I sat on the deep sea sand, 
 
 I saw a fair ship nigh at land, 
 
 I Avaved my wings, I bent my beak. 
 
 The ship sank, and I heard a shriek ; 
 
 There lie the sailors, one, two, three : 
 
 I shall dine by the wild salt sea. 
 
 Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight, 
 
 A lonesome glen and a new slain knight ; 
 
 His blood yet on the grass is hot. 
 
 His sword half drawn, his shafts unshot, 
 
 And no one kens that he lies there. 
 
 But his hawk, his hound, and his lady &ir. 
 
 His hound is to the hunting gane. 
 His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame, 
 His lady's away with another mate. 
 So we shall make our dinner SAveet ; 
 Our dinner's sure, our feasting free. 
 Come, and dine by the greenwood tree. 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane, 
 I will pike out his bonnie blue een ; 
 Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair. 
 To theak yere nest when it grows bare ; 
 The gowden down on his young chin 
 Will do to rowe my young ones in. 
 
 O cauld and bare Avill his bed be. 
 When winter storms sing in the tree ; 
 At his head a turf, at his feet a stone. 
 He will sleep nor hear the maiden's moan ; 
 O'er his white bones the birds shall fly, ■ 
 
 The wild deer bound and foxes cry. 
 
 Ritson has reprinted from Ravenscroft's " Melismata" 
 the dirge of the " Three Ravens ;" and Sir Walter Scott 
 has given us in the Minstrelsy " The Twa Corbies," a 
 traditionary dirge, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick 
 Sharpe, Esq. of Hoddom. They are both wild romantic 
 songs, and seem of the same origin. The Scottish ver- 
 sion is more consistent ; the English copy more touching : 
 but tlae Corbies of the former speak and act in character ; 
 while the " fallow doe" of the latter breaks in upon the 
 strict keeping of nature. 
 
 Down there comes a fallow doe 
 
 As great with young as she might goe. 
 
 She lift up his bloody bed. 
 
 And kist his wounds that were so red.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 291 
 
 She got him upon her back. 
 And carried him to earthen lake. 
 
 She buried him before the prime ; 
 
 She was dead herself ere even-song time. 
 
 God send every gentleman 
 
 Such hawks, such hounds, and such a leman. 
 
 Something of the same kind of supernatural feeling 
 belongs to one of the early poems of Coleridge, and the 
 superstition is neither uncommon nor strange. The 
 present version is made up from various readings and 
 recitations. It is difficult to say how much is of England 
 or of Scotland ; or how much is new, or how much is 
 old. The English song first appeared in 1611, and it 
 was old then. 
 
 u2
 
 292 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 TAK YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YOU. 
 
 In winter when the rain rain'd cauld, 
 
 And frost and snaw on ilka hill. 
 And Boreas, with his blasts sae bauld. 
 
 Was threat'ning a' our kye to kiU : 
 Then Bell, my wife, wha loves na strife. 
 
 She said to me right hastilie. 
 Get up, goodman, save Cromie's life, 
 
 And tak your auld cloak about ye. 
 
 My Cromie is an useful cow. 
 
 And she is come of a good kin' ; 
 Aft has she wet the bairns' mou. 
 
 And I am laith that she shou'd tyne ; 
 Get up, goodman, it is fou time. 
 
 The sun shines in the lift sae hie ; 
 Sloth never made a gracious end. 
 
 Go tak your auld cloak about ye. 
 
 My cloak was anes a good grey cloak. 
 
 When it was fitting for my wear ; 
 But now it's scantly worth a groat. 
 
 For I have worn't this thirty year : 
 Let's spend the gear that we have won. 
 
 We little ken the day we'll die : 
 Then I'll be proud, for I have sworn 
 
 To have a new cloak about me.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 293 
 
 In days when good king Robert rang, 
 
 His trews they cost but half-a-crown ; 
 He said they were a groat o'er dear. 
 
 And call'd the tailor thief and loan. 
 He was the king that wore a crown, 
 
 And thoii'rt a man of low degree ; 
 'Tis pride puts a' the country down, 
 
 Sae tak thy auld cloak about thee. 
 
 Every land has its ain law. 
 
 Ilk kind of corn it has its hool ; 
 I think the warld is a' run wrang. 
 
 When ilka wife her man wad rule. 
 Do ye not see Rob, Jock, and Hab, 
 
 As they are girded gallantlie. 
 While I sit hurklen in the ase .'' 
 
 I'll have a new cloak about me. 
 
 Goodman, I wat 'tis thirty years 
 
 Since we did ane anither ken ; 
 And we have had between us twa. 
 
 Of lads and bonny lasses ten : 
 Now they are women grown and men, 
 
 I wish and pray well may they be ; 
 And if you prove a good husband, 
 
 E'en tak your auld cloak about ye. 
 
 Bell, my wife, she loves na strife. 
 But she wad guide mc, if she can,
 
 294 SCOTTISH SONCiS. 
 
 And to maintain an easy life, 
 
 I aft maun yield, though I'm goodman : 
 Nought's to be won at woman's hand. 
 Unless ye give her a' the plea ; 
 
 Then I'll leave aff where I began. 
 And tak my auld cloak about me. 
 
 England has preferred a claim to this truly excellent 
 and ancient song ; and I ought not to attempt to take 
 lightly from her what Shakspeare has quoted and Percy 
 illustrated. But though I should seek as anxiously to 
 retain it to my country as I would do to reclaim the 
 Black Stone of Scone, on which our kings were and are 
 crowned ; yet candour obliges me to acknowledge, that 
 the Scottish origin of the song has at least been rendered 
 doubtful, in the discovery, by Percy, of an additional 
 and characteristic, though ruder verse than its fellows, 
 which comes in between the first and second stanzas. I 
 must say, this seems to complete the dramatic purpose 
 of the song, which allows to each speaker a verse, and 
 follows very naturally the admonition of the woman. 
 Her mildness, however, which the first verse in the 
 English version sings of, is sorely rebuked by the charge 
 of flyting and scorning which comes from the man in the 
 second. 
 
 O Bell, why dost thou iiyte and scorne ? 
 
 Thou kenst my cloak is very thin ; 
 It is so bare and overworne, 
 
 A creike, he thereon cannot renne :
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. Ji95 
 
 Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend. 
 For once I'll new apparelled be ; 
 
 To-morrow I'll to town and spend — 
 For I'll have a new cloak about me. 
 
 But to whatever country pertains the right of the ori- 
 ginal production, there can be but one opinion of the 
 excellence of the two versions. 
 
 Cow Crumbocke is a very good cow. 
 
 She has been always true to the payle, 
 She has hclpt us to butter and cheese, I trow. 
 
 And other things she will not fail : 
 I would be loth to see her pine — 
 
 Good husband, counsell take of me. 
 It is not for us to go so tine, 
 
 Man, take thine old cloak about thee. 
 
 Only compare this verse from Percy with the corre- 
 sponding stanza in our northern version, which Allan 
 Ramsay had the good fortune to find and preserve.
 
 S96 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 GOOD ALE HAUDS MY HEART ABOON. 
 
 O gude ale comes and gude ale goes, 
 Gude ale gars me sell my hose. 
 Sell my hose and pawn my shoou, 
 Gude ale hands my heart aboon : 
 Gude ale keeps me bare and busy, 
 Brandy makes me dull and dizzy. 
 Gars me sleep and sough i' my shoon, 
 Gude ale bauds my heart aboon. 
 
 O in the sweetest plums there's stones. 
 And in the fairest beef there's bones ; 
 Rum turns ye rude, wine makes ye pale, 
 There's life and love and soul in ale : 
 Gude ale's the medicine oft spaed of. 
 The very stuif that life is made of, 
 Dropt in a receipt from the moon. 
 To baud men's sinking hearts aboon. 
 
 May he rub shoulders wi' the gallows. 
 Who wad keep gude ale frae gude fallows ; 
 May he gape wide when suns are south. 
 And never drink come near his drouth ; 
 But here's to him, where'er he roam. 
 Who loves to see the flagons foam. 
 For he's a king o'er lord and loon — 
 Gude ale hands my heart aboon.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. '291 
 
 Much of this hearty song is old, and it cannot be de- 
 nied that some of it is new. I have heard many varieties 
 of it, and collected many verses in which there is much 
 more sensuality than sentiment, and more love shown 
 for good ale than good wit. I could make a curious 
 note out of these fragments of drunkards' ditties ; but 
 I choose rather to give a specimen of the affection which 
 the good people of England manifested in the time of 
 Henry the Sixth for this ancient beverage. There is 
 but one specimen preserved of those wassail songs, 
 which the author of Piers Plowman reprehends the 
 priests for chanting over their ale — it cannot be ex- 
 pected to be either very delicate or elegant : Dr. John- 
 son has somewhere observed of it, that the merriment 
 is very gross and the sentiments very worthless. 
 
 Bring us home good ale, sir, bring us home good ale, 
 O, for our dear Lady's love, bring us home good ale. 
 
 Bring us home no beef, sir, for beef is full of bones. 
 Bring home good ale enough, I love it when it foams. 
 
 Bring us home no wheaten bread, for it is full of chaff. 
 Bring us home no rye bread, for it is brown with draff. 
 
 Bring us home no pork, sir, for it is all too fat. 
 Neither bring barley bread, for little love I that. 
 
 Bring us home no mutton, sir, for it is tough and lean. 
 Neither bring us trypes, sir, for they be seldom clean.
 
 298 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Bring us home no veal, sir, for who can it desire. 
 
 But bring us home good ale, sir, to drink all by the fire. 
 
 Bring us home no cyder, and bring us home no wine. 
 But bring us home good ale, else ye'll have curses nine. 
 
 There are later and much more polished songs, but I 
 know of none that gives good ale such a hearty welcome 
 as this. It is modernized a little from a copy in the 
 Harleian manuscripts. 
 
 FAIR ANNIE OF LOCHROYAN. 
 
 Sweet Annie built a bonnie ship, 
 
 And set her on the sea ; 
 The sails were a of the damask'd silk. 
 
 The masts of silver free. 
 The gladsome waters sung below. 
 
 And the SAveet wind sung above — 
 Make way for Annie of Lochroyan, 
 
 She comes to seek her love. 
 
 A gentle wind came with a sweep. 
 And stretched her silken sail, 
 
 When up there came a reaver rude, 
 With many a shout and hail :
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 5209 
 
 O touch her not^ my mariners a'. 
 
 Such loveliness goes free ; 
 ]\Iake way for Annie of Lochroyan, 
 
 She seeks Lord Gregorie. 
 
 The moon looked out with all her stars, 
 
 The ship moved merrily on, 
 Until she came to a castle high, 
 
 That all as diamonds shone : 
 On every tower there streamed a light. 
 
 On the middle tower shone three — 
 Move for that tower my mariners a'. 
 
 My love keeps watch for me. 
 
 She took her young son in her arms. 
 
 And on the deck she stood — 
 The wind rose with an angry gust. 
 
 The sea wave wakened rude. 
 Oh open the door. Lord Gregory, love. 
 
 Oh open and let me in ; 
 The sea foam hangs in my yellow hair. 
 
 The surge dreeps down my chin. 
 
 All for thy sake. Lord Gregory, love, 
 
 I've sailed a perilous way. 
 And thy fair son is 'tween my breasts. 
 
 And he'll be dead ere day. 
 Tlie foam hangs on the topmost cliff, 
 
 The fires run on the sky.
 
 300 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 And hear ye not your true love's voice, 
 And her sweet baby's cry ? 
 
 Pair Annie turned her round about. 
 
 And tears began to flow — 
 ]\Iay never a baby suck a breast 
 
 Wi' a heart sae fou of woe. 
 Take down, take down that silver mast, 
 
 Set up a mast of tree, 
 It does nae become a forsaken dame 
 
 To sail sae royallie. 
 
 Oh read my dream, my mother dear — 
 
 I heard a sweet babe greet. 
 And saw fair Annie of Lochroyan 
 
 Lie cauld dead at my feet. 
 And loud and loud his mother laughed— 
 
 Oh sight 's mair sure than sleep, 
 I saw fair Annie, and heard her voice. 
 
 And her baby wail and weep. 
 
 O he went down to yon sea side 
 
 As fast as he could fare. 
 He saw fair Annie and her sweet babe, 
 
 But the wild wind tossed them sair : 
 And hey Annie, and how Annie, 
 
 And Annie winna ye bide ? 
 But aye the mair he called Annie, 
 
 The broader grew the tide.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. ."01 
 
 And hey Annie, and how Annie, 
 
 Dear Annie speak to me. 
 But aye the louder he cried Annie, 
 
 The louder roared the sea. 
 The wind waxed loud, the sea greAV rouo;li, 
 
 The ship sunk nigh the shore, 
 Pair Annie Hoatcd through the foam, 
 
 But the baby rose no more. 
 
 Oh first he kissed her cherry cheek. 
 
 And then he kissed her chin. 
 And syne he kissed her rosie lips. 
 
 But there was nae breath within. 
 Oh my love's love was true as light. 
 
 As meek and sweet was she — 
 My mother's hate was strong as death, 
 
 And fiercer than the sea. 
 
 The pathetic story of the Lass of Lochroyan has 
 been celebrated by Burns, and likewise by Dr. Wolcot ; 
 but I am far from certain that either in natural pathos 
 or simple beauty they equal the ancient ballad. Wol- 
 cot had the start of the Scottish poet, and imagined 
 he had written something very moving and very ori- 
 ginal, and expressed some surprise that any one should 
 attempt to share with him the merit of composing a 
 song on a subject he had elected as his own. I see no 
 cause for his anger : he found his subject where Burns 
 found his — a subject on which any poet may medi- 
 tate without imagining he is interfering with the fast
 
 302 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 decreasing fame of Wolcot, or the increasing fame of 
 Burns. 
 
 In compressing this very long and very beautiful bal- 
 lad into the compass of ten verses^ I am sensible that 
 I have omitted many attractive lines, and many wild 
 embellishments, which all served to heighten the effect 
 and deepen the catastrophe. I have made free with the 
 very perfect edition of Sir Walter Scott : I wish so well 
 to all mutilated ballads as to wish them to come through 
 his hand ; his versions are more captivating than those 
 of any other person, and on many occasions he seems 
 to evoke the spirits of the old minstrels to fill up the 
 breaches time had made in their strains. Lord Gregory 
 is represented under the influence of fairy charms or 
 witchcraft : I have heard a verse that made him confer 
 the name of witch on his mother, and charge the deep 
 sleep into which he was cast to her malice and her in- 
 cantations. 
 
 Lochroyan, which gives the name to the ballad, lies 
 on the coast of Galloway, and the castle of Lord Gregory 
 is supposed to have stood on a rock in the neighbouring 
 sea, and some ruins of ancient edifices seem to coun- 
 tenance this conjecture. Burns says, " It is somewhat 
 singular that in Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton, Kirk- 
 cudbright and Dumfries shires, there is scarcely an old 
 song or tune which, from the title, &c., can be guessed 
 to belong to, or be the production of, these counties. 
 This, I conjecture, is one of those very few, as the bal- 
 lad, which is a long one, is called both by tradition and 
 in printed collections, ' The Lass of Lochroyan.' " Let
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 303 
 
 other counties reply to the hasty reproach of the poet — 
 I shall speak for my own — we have many ballads and 
 songs which, from story, or name, or circumstance, claim 
 and have an origin in Dumfriesshire. 
 
 THE WEE WEE iMAN. 
 
 As I was walking all alone, 
 
 Atwcen a water and a wa', 
 O there I met a wee wee man. 
 
 And he was the least I ever saw : 
 His legs were scarce a shathmont lang, 
 
 And thick and thimber was his thie ; 
 Atween his brows there was a span. 
 
 And atween his shoulders there was three. 
 
 He took up a mickle stane, 
 
 And flang't as far as I could see ; 
 Though I had been a giant born 
 
 I could na lift it to my knee. 
 O wee wee man, ye' re wonder strong, 
 
 O tell me where thy dwelling be ? 
 My dwelling's down in a bonnie boAver, 
 
 O ladie, gang wi' me and see.
 
 304 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 On we lap, and awa we flew. 
 
 Till we came to a valley green ; 
 We lighted down and he stamped his foot. 
 
 And up there rose a lady fine 
 Wi' four- and- twenty at her back. 
 
 And a' clad out in the glossy green — 
 Though the king of Scotland had been there. 
 
 The worst o' them might hae been his queen. 
 
 And on we lap, and awa we rode. 
 
 Till we came to a stately ha , 
 The roof was all of the beaten gowd. 
 
 And the floor was o' the chrystal a' : 
 And there were harpings loud and sweet, 
 
 And ladies dancing jimp and sma' — 
 He clapped his hands, and ere I wist. 
 
 He sank and saunted clean awa. 
 
 This portion of old Scottish lyrical romance was re- 
 covered by David Herd, and published with some im- 
 perfections in 1776. I have sought to improve the pre- 
 sent version by the admission of several variations from 
 recitation and singing. The " Wee wee man" seems a 
 more tractable sort of brownie or goblin, and to be some- 
 thing akin to the fairies with whom old belief tenanted 
 so many green hills and lonely valleys. He was endowed 
 with supernatural powers, and his form was strangely 
 distorted and disproportioned. The shathmont's length, 
 which his leg scarcely measured, means the hand closed
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. i505 
 
 and the thumb extended — an old Scottish measurement ; 
 and his brows with a span between, joined the head of a 
 giant to the limbs of a dwarf. An ancient English ver- 
 sion of the romance is printed in Finlay's ballads. 
 
 I'D RATHER BE FAST THAN FREE. 
 
 I'd rather be fast than free, 
 I'd rather be still than move ; 
 
 My love has a man of me, 
 
 Who loathes all things but love : 
 
 O what can one desire. 
 
 But love that's frank and free? 
 
 If love were a burning fire, 
 I'd rather be burnt than flee. 
 
 Without love would be strife. 
 
 Nor kindness could endure ; 
 Without love what is life ? — 
 
 A pain that nought can cure ; 
 But love, where is delight, 
 
 A dool than none dow dree ; 
 But love, how could I write 
 
 My sangs sae sweet and free ? 
 
 A^Oli. I. ^
 
 306 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Love scatters the miser's gear. 
 
 Love makes a martial mind ; 
 Fause fortune, who can fear. 
 
 When love comes laughing kind ? 
 Love makes a coward brave. 
 
 And bids the bound be free ; 
 Love makes a gowk a man-;- 
 
 And love's the thing for me. 
 
 Love comes but from above. 
 
 Its warmth is too divine 
 To come from a meaner place 
 
 Than where the pure stars shine. 
 He that would honour win, 
 
 Or hope to sing like me. 
 Maun loup o'er the lugs in love, 
 
 And rather be fast than free. 
 
 I found in Montgomery's poems a song in a curious 
 and unpopular measure, out of which I made this — pre- 
 serving as much as I could the words and sentiments of 
 the old. It is freer from conceits and idle learning than 
 most of his productions, and merits the attempt which 
 I have now, I fear unsuccessfully, made, to introduce 
 it in a form less strange and exceptionable. Those 
 who wish to see the original production will accept of 
 the following specimen : 
 
 I rather far be fast nor free, 
 
 Albeit I might my mynd remove ;
 
 .? 
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 307 
 
 My maistres has a man of me, 
 
 That h)this of every thing but love. 
 Quhat can a man desyre ? 
 Quhat can a man requyre i 
 But tyme sail cans him tyre. 
 
 And let it be ; 
 Except that fervent fyre 
 Of burning love impyre, 
 Hope heghts me sik a hyre — 
 
 I rather far be fast nor free. 
 
 I'D RATHER BE FREE THAN FAST. 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast — 
 
 'Tis sweet to change ane's mind ; 
 Love's light can never last. 
 
 It comes of a fleeting kind : 
 I love not much to moan. 
 
 Nor sigh nor look aghast ; 
 I hope my heart is stone — 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast. 
 
 But freedom, Avhat is life ? 
 
 The night, without the moon : 
 But freedom, what is love ? 
 
 A light that's saunted soon. 
 
 x2
 
 308 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 A kiss is but a touch. 
 
 Too pleasant far to last — 
 Oh ! lasting joys for me ; 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast. 
 
 O freedom found me bound. 
 
 And loosed the iron bands ; 
 And freedom broke a chain 
 
 That was bound by whiter hands : 
 Love tied me hand and foot, 
 
 Wi' monie a kittle cast ; 
 And was my keeper lang — 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast. 
 
 O love's a Avilfu witch. 
 
 That makes a man a beast ; 
 O love's a will-o-wisp 
 
 That misleads ye to the priest, 
 And cheats ye like a fool ; 
 
 And wi' an uncannie cast 
 Ties you to petticoat rule — 
 
 I'd rather be free than fast. 
 
 Montgomery has fewer of the symptoms of oblivion 
 about his verses than most of our minor poets ; and 
 had he written mor° in the common ballad metre of 
 his country he might have shared in the popularity of 
 our national lyrics. But his measures are strange ; he 
 seems to have imagined that poetry owed some of its 
 attractions to its external appearance, and that the fur-
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 309 
 
 ther lie forsook the ordinary form of verse the nearer lie 
 approached to poetry. I made this version out of the 
 same singular metre as the preceding, and took cor- 
 responding liberties with the original ; the foUowing is 
 a specimen : 
 
 I'd rather far be free nor fast, 
 
 I hope I may remove my mynd ; 
 Love is so licht it cannot last. 
 It is small plesor to be pynd : 
 Sen I haiff e'es two 
 What need I blindlings go. 
 Ay fluiidering to and fro — 
 
 Quhile clods me cast ? 
 I am not one of tho'. 
 To work my wilfull wo — 
 I shaip not to do so : 
 
 I rather far be free nor fast. 
 
 YOUNG ERLINTON. 
 
 O who is that at my bower door, 
 Beneath the midnight moon ? 
 
 O com« to thy true love, Eriinton, 
 Among the blooming broom.
 
 310 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 The maiden lay in lier bed of silk^ 
 And heard the cock thrice crow. 
 
 When she said to her sisters twain. 
 Arise, for day doth daw. 
 
 As she put on her damask gown, 
 
 Her heart was leaping fain. 
 She took a sister in ilka hand. 
 
 And to the broom she's gane : 
 She had nae walked among the broom 
 
 Mair steps than twa or three. 
 When up rose Eriinton, her love, 
 
 O the fairest gangs wi' me. 
 
 They leaped upon a gude gray steed. 
 
 Fleet as the mornins wind — 
 Alas, for thee, mine own true love. 
 
 There's armed men behind. 
 And foremost came an eldern knig-ht. 
 
 In the sun his gray hairs shone — 
 Now wherefore rides so fair a dame 
 
 With the outlaw Eriinton > 
 
 And up and spake a second knight. 
 And out his sword drew he — 
 
 I wish the world were three steps wide. 
 And none but thee and me. 
 
 And out and spake he, Eriinton : 
 Ero 1 had struck strokes three,
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 311 
 
 Ye would wish the three steps thirty miles. 
 And twenty men wi' thee. 
 
 He leaped on the ground, young Erlinton, 
 
 Saying, Lady, hold my steed. 
 And see ye dinna change your cheer 
 
 Till ye see my body bleed. 
 He set his back against an oak. 
 
 His foot against a stone. 
 And he has fought these fifteen knights. 
 
 And slain them all but one. 
 
 To draw my sword on his gray hair 
 
 Would be a sin and shame ; 
 So let him go, the eldern knight, 
 
 And carry the tidings hanie. 
 He clasped in his arms his lady fair. 
 
 And kissed her tenderlie — 
 I've won thee now with word and sword. 
 
 And we walk the greenwood free. 
 
 A ruder variation of this fine old lyric is preserved 
 under the same name in the Border JMinstrelsy. — 
 Though it has many circumstances and images in com- 
 mon with other ballads, we feel, in the perusal, all the 
 pleasure of an original conception. To steal a lady — 
 to mount her on a fleet steed — to be pursued — to be 
 victorious over a multitude, and win her from them, are 
 all incidents which have found their way into many 
 songs ; and yet they charm us here because they arc
 
 312 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 associated with new feelings. The threats of the old 
 knight and the vaunts of the young, with the courtesy of 
 Erlinton, animate the commoner materials of the story 5 
 and his modesty after his victory, and his wish to walk 
 the greenwood free, leave an impression upon us which 
 few old lyrics leave. 
 
 To Bishop Percy we owe a copy of this legendary 
 tale, embellished in all the lavish richness of Gothic 
 beauty — the Childe of Elle. Read the tale of Sir Cau- 
 line and the Childe of Elle, and compare their antique 
 profusion of beauty and simple elegance with the Her- 
 mit of Wark worth, or any other ballad where Percy 
 writes in his own name, and without any impulse from 
 half recollected fragments and some dimly seen story. 
 He has the fear of the world and of Dr. Johnson and 
 Goldsmith upon him ; and is cold, and correct, and trem- 
 bling. When he comes in the apparel of the old min- 
 strel, he is free and fearless, and sings nothing but the' 
 most exquisite and enduring strains. 
 
 Percy is distinguished among all our ballad poets by 
 a simple ease and happiness of expression — ^by a half- 
 studied and half-lucky use of old phrases, and old ima- 
 gery, and old manners, and old customs, and old events. 
 When he borrows, and he borrows often, he always adds 
 a grace of his own. In the romance of Florice and 
 Blancheflour, \vhen the Soldan or Amiral was about to 
 slay the lovers. 
 
 Weeping, he turned his head away, 
 And his sword it fell to ground.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 313 
 
 In like manner the Baron in the Childe of Elle relents 
 on beholding his daughter and the devotion of her lover ; 
 but see the natural image which the Bishop has added : 
 
 The Baron stroked his dark brown cheek 
 
 And turned his face aside. 
 To wipe away the starting tear 
 
 He proudly strove to hide. 
 
 Compare this with an interpolated verse in Childe IMor- 
 rice : 
 
 His hair was like the threads of gold 
 
 Drawn from Minerva's loom. 
 His lips Like roses dropping dew, 
 
 His breath was a' perfume. 
 
 This is beautiful, indeed, of its kind, but of classic in- 
 stead of Gothic extraction : it stands like a stone in a 
 stream, or an Ionic capital among wild, deep, sharp, 
 Saxon tracery.
 
 314 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 
 
 Johnie rose up in a May morning, 
 
 Called for water to wash his hands : — 
 Gar loose to me, my gude gray dogs. 
 
 That are bound wi' iron bands. 
 And wi' his shafts and his gude bow, 
 
 His blade baith brent and brown, 
 Johnie's away to Durisdeer 
 
 To pull the dun deer down. 
 
 And he has pulled down a stately buck. 
 
 And wi' the liver and lungs 
 He has feasted his gray and bludie dogs 
 
 As they had been earl's sons. 
 They eat sae much of the venison. 
 
 And lappit sae much o' the blood. 
 That Johnie and all his bludie hounds 
 
 Fell asleep by the wild wood. 
 
 And by there came a silly auld man 
 
 Wha dwelt by Hazelly-brae ; 
 And he's away to the foresters seven 
 
 As fast as he could gae. 
 O up and away, ye foresters bold. 
 
 For 'mang the Merriemass scroggs — 
 The bonniest Childe that ever I saw 
 
 Lies sleeping 'mang his dogs.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 315 
 
 The shirt that is upon his back 
 
 Is of the hoUantl fine ; 
 The doublet which is over that 
 
 Is of the Lincoln twine ; 
 The buttons upon his grass-green sleeve 
 
 Are of the gowd sae gude ; 
 And the gray dogs he lies amang. 
 
 Their mouths are wet wi' blude. 
 
 Then out and spoke the head forester — 
 
 Now bend your gude bows a'. 
 If this be Johnie of Breadislee, 
 
 Nae nearer will we draw. 
 The iirst shafts that the foresters shot 
 
 They wounded him on the knee ; 
 Now pluck your shafts for another flight — 
 
 We soon shall gar him die. 
 
 Johnie set his back against an oak, 
 
 His foot against a stone ; 
 And he has slain these seven foresters — 
 
 He has slain them all but one. 
 He has broken three ribs in that ane's side. 
 
 But and his collar bane ; 
 And laid him twa-fauld over his steed — 
 
 Now carry the tidings hame. 
 
 O, is there never a bomiie bird 
 Can tell a tale for me ?
 
 yi6 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 And away and away flew that bonnie bird 
 
 To the bowers of Breadislee : 
 And it flew near his mother's hand, 
 
 And loud and loud it sang — 
 O, 'mang the deer of Durisdeer, 
 
 Fair Johnie tarries lang. 
 
 They made a litter of mountain ash. 
 
 And of the hazel brown ; 
 But through the green and the leafy boughs 
 
 His life's blood trickled down. 
 And out and spake his auld mother. 
 
 And fast her tears can fa' — 
 Ye wadnae be warned, my son Johnie, 
 
 Frae the hunting to bide awa. 
 
 O lay my brown sword by my side. 
 
 And my bent bow at my feet ; 
 And stay the howling o' my gray dogs 
 
 That sound may be my sleep. 
 His dogs are dead, his bent bow broke. 
 
 And his shafts that flew sae free ; 
 And he lies dead near Durisdeer — 
 
 Fair Johnie of Breadislee. 
 
 " The hero of this ballad," says Sir Walter Scott, 
 " appears to have been an outlaw, or deer stealer ; pro- 
 bably one of the broken men residing upon the border. 
 There are several difl^erent copies ; in one of which the
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 317 
 
 principal personage is called Johnie of Cockielaw ; — the 
 stanzas of greatest merit have been selected from each 
 copy." The lament of his mother, and the unusual 
 splendour of Johnie's dress, would lead me to conclude 
 that he was an opulent person and an only son ; and when 
 we remember the long and cruel wars waged between 
 the Maxwells and the Johnstones, we need hardly re- 
 sort to the expedient of outlawry to put him in peril. 
 We have only to suppose that a Maxwell went to hunt 
 in the lands of a Johnstone, or a Johnstone in the lands 
 of a IMaxwell, and we have a story of peril and blood- 
 shed. 
 
 Johnie's residence has sometimes been given to the 
 old castle of JMorton : there are still vestiges of towers 
 on the hills between Closeburn and Durisdeer ; and 
 there are plenty of wild and almost inaccessible ca- 
 verns and linns, where a desperate man might find 
 refuge. The tradition of the hero of Breadislee is coun- 
 tenanced by a description, given in an account of the 
 presbytery of Penpont, of a deer-park, made by Ran- 
 dolph, Earl of Murray, on the face of a steep hill near 
 Morton-castle, and so curiously contrived, that all wild 
 beasts, such as deer, harts, roes, and hares, could easily 
 leap in, but could not leap out again; and it was 
 doubted if their owners were permitted to get them 
 out again — a noble park for an outlaw ! Breadislee, 
 near Lochmaben, has been pointed out as the more pro- 
 bable residence of the hero of the song ; and the scenery 
 in the neighbourhood, and the tradition of the country, 
 countenance the supposition.
 
 818 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 I LOVED THEE ONCE. 
 
 I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more, 
 Thine be the grief, as is the blame ; 
 
 Thou art not what thou Avast before, 
 What reason 1 should be the same ? 
 
 He that can love, unlov'd again, 
 
 Hath better store of love than brain. 
 God send me love my debts to pay. 
 While unthrifts fool their love away. 
 
 Nothing could have my love o'erthrown 
 If thou hadst still continued mine ; 
 
 Yea, if thou hadst still remain'd thy own, 
 I might, perchance, have yet been thine ; 
 
 But thou thy freedom didst recal, 
 
 That it thou might' st elsewhere enthral, 
 And then, how could I but disdain 
 A captive's captive to remain ? 
 
 When new desires had conquer'd thee. 
 And chang'd the object of thy will, 
 
 It had been lethargy in me. 
 
 No constancy, to love thee still : 
 
 Yea, it had been a sin to go 
 
 And prostitute affection so ; 
 
 Since we are taught no prayers to say 
 To such as must to others pray.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. olO 
 
 Yet do thou glory in thy choice ; 
 
 Thy choice, of his good fortune boast ; 
 I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice. 
 
 To see him gain what I have lost : 
 The height of my disdain shall be. 
 To laugh at him, to blush for thee ; 
 
 To love thee still, but go no more 
 
 A begging at a beggar's door. 
 
 The inconstancy of woman's love is a favourite theme 
 with our lyric poets ; and if we may believe their strains, 
 no men have suiFered so largely from her Avaywardness 
 and mutability. Montgomery and Scott are foremost 
 in these lamentations, and they have been echoed by 
 many succeeding poets. These verses by Sir Robert 
 Ayton will remind the reader of some of our earlier 
 poetry — there is elegance in his fancy, and melody in his 
 versification. He is buried in Westminster abbey ; his 
 inscription is in Latin, and his bust in bronze : in his 
 looks there is as much of the gentleman as the genius. 
 His monument is near that of Henry the Fifth. The 
 brass head of the humble poet is still safe and unmuti- 
 lated ; while the silver head of the hero of Agincourt 
 fell a victim to the value of its material : it was melted 
 down by the rapacious parliament of Oliver Cromwell, 
 to assist in paying the army — and may be doing the 
 same yet. There is a moral to man in this, and a lesson 
 to sculptors.
 
 320 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 I DO CONFESS THOU'RT SMOOTH AND 
 
 FAIR. 
 
 I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, 
 
 And I might have gone near to love thee ; 
 
 Had I not found the slightest prayer 
 
 That lips could speak, had power to move thee : 
 
 But I can let thee now alone 
 
 As worthy to be lov'd by none. 
 
 I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find 
 Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, 
 
 Thy favours are but like the wind 
 That kisseth every thing it meets. 
 
 And since thou canst with more than one, 
 
 Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none. 
 
 The morning rose, that untouch'd stands, 
 Arm'd \vith her briers, how sweetly smells ! 
 
 But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands. 
 Her sweet no longer with her dwells ; 
 
 But scent and beauty both are gone, 
 
 And leaves fall from her, one by one. 
 
 Such fate, ere long, will thee betide. 
 When thou hast handled been awhile ! 
 
 Like sere flowers to be throAvn aside. 
 And I shall sigh, while some will smile.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 321 
 
 • To see thy love for more than one 
 Hath brought thee to be lov'd by none. 
 
 Burns altered the measure of this song, inoculated it 
 with some Scottish words, and imagined he had im- 
 proved its simplicity. He never made any attempt so 
 very unsuccessfully : I add his version — 
 
 I do confess thou art so fair, 
 
 I wad been o'er the lugs in love, 
 Had I na found the slightest prayer 
 
 That lips could speak thy heart could move. 
 I do confess thee sweet — but find 
 
 Thou art sae thriftless of thy sweets — 
 Thy favours are the silly wind. 
 
 That kisses ilka thing it meets. 
 
 See yonder rosebud rich in dew. 
 
 Among its native briers sae coy ; 
 How sune it tines its scent and hue 
 
 When pu'd and worn a common toy. 
 Sic fate, ere long, shall tliee betide, 
 
 Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile ; 
 Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside 
 
 Like any common weed and vile. 
 
 This is one of the songs of Sir Robert Ayton— it is 
 very popular and very beautiful. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 322 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT. 
 
 Adieu, Madame, my mother dear, 
 
 But and my sisters three ! 
 Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane ! 
 
 My heart is wae for thee. 
 Adieu, the lily and the rose. 
 
 The primrose fair to see ; 
 Adieu, my ladye and only joy ! 
 
 For I may not stay with thee. 
 
 Though I have slain the Lord Johnstone, 
 
 What care I for their feid ? 
 My noble mind their wrath disdains ; 
 
 He was my father's deid. 
 Both night and day I labour'd oft 
 
 Of him avenged to be ; 
 But now I've got what lang I sought. 
 
 And I may not stay with thee. 
 
 Adieu ! Drumlanrig false wert aye. 
 
 And Closeburn in a band ! 
 The laird of Lag, frae my father that fled. 
 
 When Johnstone struck off his hand. 
 They were three brethren in a band — 
 
 Joy may they never see ! 
 Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart. 
 
 Has twin'd my love frae me.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 3i^3 
 
 Adieu, Dumfries, my projier place. 
 
 But and Caerkverock fair ; 
 Adieu, my castle of the Thrieve, 
 
 Wi' a' my buildings there ; 
 Adieu, Lochmaben's gates sae fair. 
 
 And Langholm-holm, where birks there be ; 
 Adieu, my ladye and only joy ! 
 
 For, trust me, I may not stay with thee. 
 
 Adieu, fair Eskdale, up and down. 
 
 Where my poor friends do dwell, 
 The bangisters will ding them down, 
 
 And will them sair compel ; 
 But I '11 avenge their feid mysel, 
 
 When I come o'er the sea : 
 Adieu, my ladye and only joy ! 
 
 For I may not stay with thee. 
 
 Lord of the land, that ladye said, 
 
 O wad ye gang wi' me 
 Unto my brother's stately tower. 
 
 Where safest ye may be ! 
 There Hamiltons and Douglas baith 
 
 Shall rise to succour thee. 
 Thanks for thy kindness, foir my dame. 
 
 But I may not stay with thee. 
 
 Then took he off a gay gold ring. 
 Thereat hung signets three ; 
 
 y2
 
 824 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Hae, take thee that, my ain dear thing; 
 
 And still have mind of me ; — 
 But if thou take another lord 
 
 Ere I come outc the sea. 
 His life is but a three days' lease. 
 
 Though I may not stay wi' thee. 
 
 The wind was fair, the ship was clear. 
 
 That good lord went away ; 
 And most of all his friends were there. 
 
 To give him a fair convey. 
 They drank the Avine — they didnae spare 
 
 Even in that good lord's sight ; 
 Sae now he is o'er the flood sae gray — 
 
 Lord Maxwell has taen his Goodnight. 
 
 '»' 
 
 This beautiful song was copied by Sir Walter Scott, 
 and imitated by Lord Byron — honours enough for the 
 work of any minstrel. It was found in the Glenriddell 
 manuscript, and is printed with some slight traditional 
 variations. 
 
 It alludes to the close of one of the most remarkable 
 and obstinate feuds of all the western marches — the long 
 and inveterate war between the houses of IMaxwell and 
 Johnstone. After many mutual inroads and desperate 
 encounters^ in which success generally was on the side 
 of the Maxwells, two thousand of the warriors of Niths- 
 dale and Galloway entered Annandale, and advanced 
 towards the water of Dryfe. They were led by Lord
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 325 
 
 JNlaxwell in person ; and the various tribes were com- 
 manded by the Kirkpatricks, the Hallidays, the Gricr- 
 sons and Douglases, .and other names noted in Niths- 
 dale. To the aid of the Johnstones came the Scotts, 
 the Elliots, the Armstrongs, and Graemes — the fiercest 
 and bravest of all the border tribes. These auxiliaries 
 were allied by blood and mutual interest to Lord John- 
 stone, and were led by some of the bravest and most 
 renowned varriors of the name of Scott : the ancestor of 
 Sir Walter Scott of Abbotsford was among them. They 
 posted tliemselves in a thick Avood near Lockerby, and 
 awaited the advance of their enemies. 
 
 The Blaxwells, covered by a thick mist, which con- 
 cealed alike their enemies and them, prepared to pass 
 the Dryfe. Tradition says that the Johnstones were un- 
 willing to fight against an army superior to their own ; 
 that the Elliots, conducted by a considerate and cautious 
 veteran, wished to abide in ambush ; while the Scotts 
 alone called out for open war, and proposed to dispute 
 the passage of the river, the eastern bank of which was 
 steep and difiicult, and the bridge long and narrow. It 
 was more with the wish of reconnoitring than with 
 the desire of coming to a battle, that the Johnstones 
 began to pass the stream. The Scotts and the other 
 auxiliaries were foremost, and meeting with the van- 
 guard of the JMaxwells in the mist, a sharp encounter 
 took place: the borderers charged first, and to their 
 fierce and steady valour the fortune of the day may be 
 ascribed. Lord IMaxwell was struck from his horse, near 
 where a thorn tree is now growing, and inhumanly slam.
 
 32() SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 after the right hand, which he stretched out for quarter, 
 had been hewn from his body. 
 
 John, the young Lord JMaxwell, was in the battle, 
 and retreated into Nithsdale, vowing the deepest revenge 
 against Lord Johnstone for the cruel death of his father. 
 He remembered that when his bastard uncle Robert, 
 the bravest and most fortunate warrior of the house of 
 Maxwell, had defeated Lord Johnstone, bunit his castle 
 of Lochwood, and taken his lordship prisoner, the vic- 
 tory had not been abused by cruelty, nor the vanquished 
 murdered, when they called for quarter. His vow of 
 revenge was deep, and amply and dishonourably was it 
 fulfilled. Neither the threats nor entreaties of the king 
 himself, nor a rigorous imprisonment in Edinburgh 
 Castle, could change his purpose. He escaped from 
 confinement, returned to Dumfriesshire, and through the 
 means of Maxwell of Orchardstone, who had married 
 Lord Johnstone's sister, obtained a conference with that 
 chieftain at Auchnamhill, on the 6th of April, 1608, 
 and slew him basely. He escaped to France, and as he 
 set his foot on shipboard, the old minstrel supposes that 
 he uttered his memorable Goodnight. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott concludes that the Goodnight was 
 written before the execution of Lord Maxwell in 1613. 
 From the disasters of this unhappy feud the house of 
 Maxwell, which had risen into great power and emi- 
 nence, never fairly recovered. They had numbered many 
 of the most famous names of Dumfriesshire and Galloway 
 among their liegemen and vassals.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 327 
 
 HUGHIE GRAEME. 
 
 Our lords are to the mountuiiis gane. 
 
 And all to hunt the fallow deer. 
 And they have taen him, Hughie Graeme, 
 
 For stealing of the bishop's mare ; 
 And they have bound him hand and foot, 
 
 And led him up through Carlisle town. 
 And lords and knaves came out and cried, 
 
 O, Hughie Graeme, thou art a loon ! 
 
 O loose my right hand free, he said. 
 
 And put my good sword in the same. 
 He's no in Carlisle town this day. 
 
 Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graeme. 
 O up then spake he brave Corehead, 
 
 As he sat by the bishop's knee. 
 Full fifty gallant steeds I'll give. 
 
 To let stout Hugh the Graeme gae free. 
 
 O baud your tongue, the bishop said. 
 And wi' your pleading let me be ; 
 
 If fifty Graemes were in his coat. 
 This is the day that he maun die. 
 
 They took him to the gallows-knowe ; 
 He looked on the gallows tree.
 
 328 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Yet never colour left his cheek, 
 Nor ever did he blink his ee. 
 
 And then he looked round about. 
 
 And a' to see what he might see ; 
 O there he saw his auld father, 
 
 And he was weeping bitterlie. 
 O hand your tongue, my father dear. 
 
 And wi' your weeping let me be ; 
 Your weeping's sairer to my heart 
 
 Than a' that they can do to me. 
 
 O gie to my young brother John 
 
 My sword bent in the middle clear, 
 And let him come at twelve o'clock, 
 
 And see me pay the bishop's mare. 
 And ye may give my brother James 
 
 My sword bent in the middle brown. 
 And bid him come at four o'clock. 
 
 And see his brother Hugh cut down. 
 
 And fare ye weel, fair IVIeg, my wife, 
 
 Wha bare me bairns, and by me lay. 
 Ye made and warm'd the bishop's bed. 
 
 And kissed your husband's life away. 
 And ye may tell the gallant Graemes, 
 
 A drop is spilt of their best blood ; 
 And when they meet the bishop's cloak, 
 
 To make it shorter by the hood.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS, 329 
 
 I have retained this copy of the song because several 
 verses have felt the inspiring toucli of Burns. He 
 copied it from recitation, improved its pathos, and sent 
 it to Johnson's Musical Museum with the assurance that 
 it was from oral tradition in Ayrshire, wher^, when he 
 was a boy, it was a popular song. It has been said 
 that Hugh the Graeme made an excursion into Cum- 
 berland and carried off the bishop of Carlisle's mare, 
 because the prelate had seduced his wife. Tradition, in 
 all the varieties of her legends, never invented such an 
 unnecessary and superfluous reason as this. By habit 
 and by nature thieves, the Graemes never waited for any 
 thing like a pretence to steal — they went and took what 
 they wanted on both sides of the border : 
 
 They found the beeves that made their broth. 
 In Scotland and in England both. 
 
 The tradition is however countenanced in a much grosser 
 verse than the one which I have ventured to retain. 
 " Of the morality of Robert Aldridge, bishop of Carlisle," 
 says Sir Walter Scott, " we know but little ; but his 
 political and religious faith were of a stretching and 
 accommodating texture." " He saw many changes in 
 church and state," says Anthony a Wood ; " but he re- 
 tained his oflices and preferments during them all."
 
 QC 
 
 30 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 TODLEN HAME. 
 
 When I've a saxpence under my thumb. 
 
 Then I'll get credit in ilka town : 
 
 But ay when I'm poor they bid me gang by ; 
 
 O ! poverty parts good company. 
 Todlen hame, todlen hame, 
 Coudna my love come todlen hame ? 
 
 Fair fa' the goodwife, and send her good sale. 
 She gi'es us white bannocks to drink her ale. 
 Syne if that her tippeny chance to be sma', 
 We'll tak a good scour o't, and ca't awa'. 
 Todlen hame, todlen hame. 
 As round as a neep come todlen hame. 
 
 My kimmer and I lay down to sleep, 
 
 Wi' twa pint-stoups at our bed's feet ; 
 
 And ay Avhen we waken'd, we drank them dry : 
 
 What tliink ye of my wee kimmer and I ? 
 Todlen but, and todlen ben, 
 Sae round as my love comes todlen hame. 
 
 Leeze me on liquor, my todlen dow 
 
 Ye 're ay sae good-humour'd when weeting your mou ; 
 
 When sober ye 're sour, and would fight Avi' a ilie. 
 
 That 'tis a blyth sight to the bairns and me. 
 When todlen hame, todlen hame, 
 Wlicn round a?; a neep yc come todlen hame.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 331 
 
 Burns says this is perhaps the best bottle song ever 
 composed; and both as a poet and a companion he was 
 a comjjctent judge. I know, indeed, nothing better in 
 the whole compass of verse dedicated to express delight 
 in mirth and drinking than the characteristic exclama- 
 tion of the wife in the concluding stanza. I am of 
 opinion, hoAvever, that it has been made out of the frag- 
 ments of two songs, for the last verse corresponds not in 
 the narrative part with its companions, and I have heard 
 several verses sung in continuation which brought the 
 song to a very amusing end. The words were recovered 
 by Allan Ramsay ; they have been popular ever since, 
 and were so long before, for they seem very old. We 
 have many curious fragments of convivial songs, some of 
 which are excellent : 
 
 Drunk yesternight. 
 
 And drunk the night before; 
 If I dinna be drunk to-night. 
 
 Let me never be sober more. 
 
 I know not that the love of good fellowship has sub- 
 sided among us, but we have few poets now who celebrate 
 Avine and wassail. I once heard a gentleman declare 
 that no good joyous songs had been written since the Re- 
 formation. Like the tory fox-hunter in the British Free- 
 liolder, who swore that England had not enjoyed good 
 weather since the Revolution.
 
 33^ SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 THE WIFE OF USHERS-WELL. 
 
 There dwalt a wife at Usher's-well, 
 
 A wealthy wife was she, 
 She had three stout and stalwart sons. 
 
 And sent them o'er the sea. 
 The wind blew east, the wind blew west. 
 
 The sea was in a faem. 
 And sair the wife began to weep, 
 
 I wish my bairns were hame. 
 
 The wind blew north, the wind blew south. 
 
 And a cry came from the sea ; 
 And word came to the weeping wife. 
 
 That her sons she'd never see. 
 I wish the wind may nae mair blow. 
 
 Nor fishes swim the Hood, 
 Till my three bairns come hame to rac. 
 
 In earthly flesh and blood. 
 
 It fell in about the Martinmas, 
 
 When nights are lang and mirk. 
 That her three sons came hame to her. 
 
 And their hats were o' the birk. 
 It neither grew on liolm nor hill. 
 
 Nor by the fallow lea — 
 By the bless'd gate of Paradise 
 
 Tlic birk groAvs fair and free.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 333 
 
 Blaw up the fire, my maidens a'. 
 
 We'll dine and dance belyve. 
 For my ain sons are hale and wcel, 
 
 How can I be but blythe ? 
 Blaw up the fire, my maidens a', 
 
 Spare neither ale nor wine : 
 Is there a wife in Scotland wide, 
 
 Wi' heart sae light as mine ? 
 
 And merrily danced the maidens a' 
 
 Aneath the torches glowing. 
 Why smile ye not, my ain sweet bairns ? 
 
 Ye see the red wine flowing. 
 And she has made to them a bed. 
 
 And spread it lang and wide, 
 And folded her mantle 'bout her waist. 
 
 And sat down by their side. 
 
 She sat till first the red cock crew. 
 
 And syne up crew the grey : 
 The young son to the auldest said. 
 
 Its time we were away. 
 The grey cock hadnae crown but once. 
 
 Nor clapp'd his wings at a'. 
 When the auld son to the youngest said. 
 
 Brother, we maun awa. 
 
 The cock doth craw, the day doth daw'. 
 The channering worm doth chide ; 
 
 Gin we be mist out of our place, 
 A sair pain maun we bide :
 
 334 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Sae fare ye weel, my mither dear. 
 
 Farewell to my sister Jean ; 
 And fare ye weel, my bonny lass. 
 
 That danced wi' the dead yestreen. 
 
 Of the dead returning to dine and dance with the 
 living, I know not that we have any better testimony 
 than what tlie Wife of Usher's-well affords. It is true 
 that I could relate, on authority equally credible, some 
 remarkable attempts of the dead to hold intercourse with 
 the living ; I shall however confine myself to the singu- 
 lar story of a Scottish clergyman who had several con- 
 ferences with the ghost of a wicked laird of Galloway. 
 To those who never had the good fortune to meet with 
 this wild story in print, it will be enough to say, that 
 the ghost of the laird was never seen till after sunset, 
 always spoke as if it acted under the control of a superior 
 spirit, and never appeared save on horseback. It came 
 to earth to disclose some acts of wickedness which it de- 
 sired the priest to redress, and to discuss some knotty 
 points of the doctrine of doom and salvation. It was a 
 merry and rather a saucy spirit ; and on one occasion, when 
 the divine took his staff to chastise it, he found but a 
 form of air. It will be painful to those who depend on 
 an equality in the place of punishment to know, that the 
 spirit of the laird rode on the ghost of one of his tenants, 
 made into a steed for his especial accommodation and 
 amusement. The person who wrote this extraordinary 
 story had an imagination exactly suited for its reception : 
 he believed in his imaginary interviews with the spirit, 
 and expanded them into the dimen.sions of a moderate
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. SSo 
 
 romance. He confided his manuscript to the examina- 
 tion of a lady whose belief and experience rendered her 
 a judge of the language and character of spirits ; and 
 posterity will regret that a descendant of the person 
 whose ghost figured as the hero of the tale contrived to 
 abstract (steal's the word) the labour of the divine, and 
 neither ghost nor tale have ever been seen since. 
 
 To return to the song. It is supposed that the wife 
 of Usher' s-well had, by some words which tradition has 
 obscured or omitted, charmed back her children to earth ; 
 and that they came from the place of the blessed is in- 
 ferred from their hats of birk. The souls of the blessed 
 are crowned with garlands. I believe the story is im- 
 perfect. The author's name is unknown. 
 
 Some of the elder divines of Scotland fostered the 
 salutary belief among their Hocks, that the spirits of 
 wicked men returned to earth, and allowed no rest to 
 their children or their heirs till reparation was made of 
 wrongs they had inflicted on the widow and the orphan. 
 The spirits of the persecutors had a long vigil on earth — 
 they had much to repent of, and much to disclose.
 
 336 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 THE AULD GOODMAN. 
 
 Late in an evening forth I went, 
 
 A little before the sun gaed down. 
 And there I chanced, by accident. 
 
 To light on a battle new begun. 
 A man and his wife had faun in a strife, 
 
 I canna well tell hoAv it besan : 
 But ay she wail'd her Avretched life, 
 
 And cry'd ever, Alake, my auld goodman. 
 
 Thy auld goodman that thou tells of. 
 
 The country kens where he was born. 
 Was but a silly poor vagabond. 
 
 And ilka ane leugh him to scorn ; 
 For he did spend, and make an end 
 
 Of gear that his forefathers wan. 
 He gart the poor stand frae the door, 
 
 Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman. 
 
 My heart, alake, is like to break. 
 
 When I think on my winsome John ; 
 His blinkin ee, and gate sae free. 
 
 Was naething like thee, thou dosen'd drone. 
 His rosie face, and flaxen hair. 
 
 And a skin as white as ony swan. 
 Was large and tall, and comely withal. 
 
 And thou'lt never be like my auld goodman.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 337 
 
 Why dost thou pleeii ? I thee maintain, 
 
 For meal and maut thou disna want ; 
 But thy wild bees I canna please, 
 
 Now when our gear 'gins to grow scant. 
 Of household stuff thou hast enough, 
 
 Thou wants for neither pot nor pan ; 
 Of siclike ware he left thee bare, 
 
 Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman. 
 
 Yes, I may tell, and fret mysell. 
 
 To think on those blyth days I had, 
 When he and I together lay 
 
 In arms into a well-made bed ; 
 But now I sigh and may be sad, 
 
 Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan. 
 Thou falds thy feet, and fa's asleep. 
 
 And thou'lt ne'er be like my auld goodman. 
 
 Then coming was the night sae dark, 
 
 And gane was a' the light o' day ; 
 The carle was fear'd to miss his mark. 
 
 And therefore wad nae langer stay ; 
 Then up he gat, and ran his way, 
 
 I trow the wife the day she wan. 
 And ay the o'erword of the fray 
 
 Was ever, Alake, my auld goodman. 
 
 The Auld Goodman is written in the free and over- 
 flowing manner of the olden times — dramatic, humorous, 
 and sarcastic — hovering on the very borders of indelicacy 
 
 voi^. I. z
 
 338 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 without being indelicate, and involving a very serious 
 and indecorous question without any breach of decorum. 
 I will not deny, however, that the minstrel has been 
 rather more graphic and minute than is acceptable 
 among very refined people now. We owe this relique 
 of the ancient JVIuse to the vigilance of Allan Ramsay ; 
 and though the language may be modernized, it carries 
 the olden stamp too vigorously impressed to have under- 
 gone any extensive change. It attracted the notice of 
 Percy, who, while he copies it into his R cliques, suspects 
 it of corruption in various places, but in truth he seems 
 to be the corrupter himself. He has changed the follow- 
 ing lines, and gained nought but obscurity for his trouble : 
 
 For he did spend, and make an end 
 Of gear that his forefathers wan. 
 
 These lines have the merit of a visible meaning ; can 
 we say the same of those of the bishop ? 
 
 For he did spend, and make an end 
 Of gear his fathers never wan. 
 
 They either mean that the first husband, whose memory 
 is so dear to his modest relict, squandered her dower, or 
 that he spent, near the close of his life, what he had 
 gained at the beginning ; Avhich is far from likely, if the 
 story be true that his successor relates. I have several 
 versions of the song, but I choose to abide by that of 
 Ramsay, as probably the oldest, and certainly the best. 
 The author's name is iniknown.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 339 
 
 LADY ANN. 
 
 Fair lady Ann walked from her bower, 
 
 Down by the greenwood side, 
 The sweet flowers sprang, and wild birds sang, 
 
 The simmer was in pride. 
 Among the flowers that lady went. 
 
 As white as was the swan ; 
 And she thought on her love and sighed. 
 
 The gentle lady Ann. 
 
 Out of the wood came three bonnie boys, 
 
 As naked as they were born, 
 And they did sing and play at the ba', 
 
 Beneath a milk-white thorn. 
 A seven lang years would I stand here. 
 
 All noon, and night, and dawn. 
 And all for one of tliae bonnie boys. 
 
 Quo' gentle lady Ann. 
 
 Then up and spake the eldest boy : 
 
 Now listen, thou fair ladie — 
 O we lay a' at ae milk-\vhite breast. 
 
 And nursed were on ae knee j 
 
 z2
 
 340 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 Ae sweet lip smiled on us as we smiled. 
 
 And there was a snaw-white han'. 
 As gentle and kin', and fair as thine, 
 
 That watched us, lady Ann. 
 
 O come to me, thou lily-white boy. 
 
 The bonniest of the three ! 
 O come, O come, thou lily-white boy. 
 
 My little bower-boy to be ! 
 rU deed thee all in silk and gold. 
 
 And nurse thee on my knee — 
 Oh mother, oh mother, when I was thine. 
 
 Sic love I couldna see. 
 
 I found this song imperfect, and I know not that 
 either to supply or discover the concluding verses would 
 add much to the interest of the story. The death of the 
 children is imputed to a false nurse, in an older copy 
 published in the INIinstrelsy ; but one of the verses ac- 
 cuses the lady herself, and the traditional fragments 
 quoted by Sir Walter seem to countenance the charge. 
 I remember a verse, and but a verse, of an old ballad 
 whicli records a horrible instance of barbarity. A lady 
 Avas in a condition like that of many ladies who figure 
 in ballad and romance : 
 
 She set her back against a thorn, 
 
 And there she has her young son born : 
 
 O smile na sae, my bonnie babe ! 
 
 An ye smile sae sweet, ye '11 smile mc dead.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. '54-1 
 
 At this moment a hunter came— one whose suit the lady 
 had long rejected with scorn — the brother of her lover : 
 
 He took the babe on his spear point, 
 
 And threw it upon a thorn : 
 Let the wind blow east, the wind blow west. 
 The cradle will rock alone. 
 
 It is as well to let such narratives perish, and I am 
 glad I remember no more of it. I have some suspicion 
 that the line old song of Lady Mary Ann had once a 
 meaning much less reputable for the lady than it has at 
 present : the commencing lines have an older air than 
 the remainder of the song. 
 
 THE DEMON LOVER. 
 
 O where have ye been, my long lost love. 
 
 These long seven years and more ? 
 O all to mind ye of deep, deep vows, 
 
 I come rom a distant shore. 
 O speak no more of deep, deep vows. 
 
 They'll breed me mickle strife — 
 O baud your tongue of my maiden vows, 
 
 For I am a wedded wife.
 
 342 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 He turned him right and round about,. 
 And his colour mounted high : 
 
 I have breasted the foaming waves 
 When sea mixed with the sky ; 
 
 1 sank my enemies on my right. 
 And sank them on the lee, 
 
 And might have married a king's daughter 
 Had I not so loved thee. 
 
 O were I to leave my ain sweet hame. 
 
 And the babes that I love so. 
 And leave the lord that loves me weel. 
 
 Where shall I with you go .'' 
 My good ships sail upon the sea. 
 
 And one lies nigh the land. 
 With four-and-twenty mariners bold. 
 
 And music on every hand. 
 
 And she's ta'en up her two sweet babes. 
 
 The tears dropt down like rain : 
 O fare ye weel, my ain sweet babes, 
 
 I'll never kiss you again ! 
 She set her foot on the goodly ship. 
 
 And among the mariners bold ; 
 The sails were all of the rustling silk. 
 
 And the masts of beaten gold. 
 
 They had not sailed a league, a league, 
 A league, but barely three.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 343 
 
 When (lark, dark grew his ruddie face. 
 
 And dark, dark flashed his ee : 
 The masts that were of the beaten gold 
 
 No shadow showed on the seas — 
 The sails that were of the rustling silk 
 
 Filled not with the fresh'ning breeze : 
 
 The mariners vanished from the deck. 
 
 And the wind came with a sweep — 
 That lady saw the foot of the fiend. 
 
 And loud, loud can she weep. 
 O lady, stint your sorrow, he says, 
 
 And your weeping let it be ; 
 For now we go where the lilies grow. 
 
 On the banks of Italie. 
 
 What hills are yon — yon pleasant hills. 
 
 That the sun shines sweetly on ? 
 O yon are the hills of heaven, he said. 
 
 Where we \vill never win. 
 O what wild mountain's this, she said. 
 
 All dreary wi' frost and snow ? 
 O it is the mountain of hell, ladie. 
 
 Where you and I must go. 
 
 And aye as she gave a sob and a look. 
 
 Aye taller he seemed to be — 
 Till the golden masts of that gallant ship 
 
 Nae taller seemed than he.
 
 344 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 He smote the topmast with his hand. 
 
 The foremast wi' his knee. 
 And he brake that gallant ship in twain. 
 
 And sank her in the sea. 
 
 This wild legendary song is nowhere to be found save 
 in the collection of Sir Walter Scott. It was copied 
 from recitation by Mr. Laidlaw of Traquairknowe. It 
 embodies an old and very popular superstition, current 
 alike in England and Ireland and Germany. In " Sa- 
 tan's Invisible World Discovered" we find the story of 
 a youth, a lover of wine and fine women, whom the 
 enemy of mankind sought to ruin in the form of a very 
 beautiful lady. The Aviles of the fiend are described 
 with some naivete. " I remember," says Sir Walter 
 Scott, " to have heard a ballad in which a fiend is in- 
 troduced paying his addresses to a beautiful maiden ; 
 but, disconcerted by the holy herbs which she wore in 
 her bosom, makes the following lines the burthen of his 
 courtship : 
 
 'Gin ye wish to be, leman, mine, 
 
 Lay aside the St. John's- wort and the vervain." 
 
 There is a story told of a fiend, or evil spirit, who 
 contrived, under a lady's form and with many pleasant 
 words, to gain the consent of a youth to meet her on the 
 bank of a wild stream at the head of Nithsdale. The 
 hour of meeting was midnight, and the earthly lover and
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 345 
 
 his infernal admirer were true to tryste, and met at the 
 appointed place. The spirit, however, in spite of all 
 her arts, was unable to retain the outward lustre Avith 
 which she had endowed herself; and ever as she sought 
 to touch him, her beauty faded and she grew more 
 like a fiend from the pit than a lady fit for the arms of a 
 lover. The youth beheld her with dismay and disgust ; 
 but whenever he stepped a step or two from her, she 
 became again lovely and beautiful. Those of a devout 
 turn will be glad to know that a small New Testament, 
 which a pious mother had slipped into an indiscreet son's 
 pocket, interposed between him and utter ruin, and that 
 his resolution not to cast it away caused the fiend to de- 
 part in a flash of fire, exclaiming, " But for that book, 
 ye had supped with me in hell !" Tales of this cha- 
 racter, popular to this day in Scotland, would augment 
 this note into a curious volume ; but enough has been 
 said to illustrate the superstition of the song.
 
 346 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 RATTLING ROARING WILLIE. 
 
 Our Rattling Roaring Willie 
 
 Went off to Selkirk fair, 
 To sell his merry fiddle 
 
 And buy more thrifty ware. 
 But parting wi' his fiddle. 
 
 The saut tear dimm'd his ee : 
 I'll sell my sweet bread-winner. 
 
 And then lie down an' die. 
 
 Now, Willie, man, sell your fiddle — 
 Come sell your fiddle so fine : 
 
 Willie, come sell your fiddle. 
 And buy a pint o' wine. 
 
 Were I to sell my fiddle. 
 
 The world would ca' me mad. 
 
 For monie a ranting day 
 My fiddle and I ha'e had. 
 
 1 made my gallant fiddle 
 
 Of our repentance-stool ; 
 The lasses went wild wi' laughing. 
 
 And danced frae Paste to Yule — 
 The doucest foot o' the parish 
 
 Has wagg'd to it wantonlie ; 
 O monie 's the mirthsome minute 
 
 My fiddle lias made for me.
 
 SCOTTISH SONCJS. 347 
 
 As I came in by Crochallan 
 
 I cauiiilie keeket ben. 
 An' Rattling Roaring Willie 
 
 Was sitting at our board en', 
 An' drawing his best bow-hand, 
 
 An' drinking the wine sae free — 
 O Rattling Roaring Willie, 
 Ye 're welcome hame to me. 
 
 Johnson's IMusical Museum has the merit of intro- 
 ducing this version of Rattling Roaring Willie to public 
 notice with a concluding verse by Burns. The addition 
 by the poet was in honour of " one of the worthiest 
 fellows in the world, William Dunbar, Esq. writer to 
 the Signet, Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan 
 corps — a club of wits who took that title at the time of 
 raising the fencible regiments." The main part of the 
 song is of some antiquity, but many emendations have 
 crept in from time to time, which, without injuring the 
 original freshness, have improved the language and the 
 propriety of the song. The third verse is now printed 
 for the first time.
 
 348 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 MARIE HAMILTON. 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the preaching gone, 
 
 Wi' ribbons in her hair : 
 The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton 
 
 Than ony that were there. 
 Marie Hamilton's to the preaching gone, 
 
 Wi' ribbons on her breast : 
 Of Marie fair the king thought mair 
 
 Than he thought of the priest. 
 
 Syne word has o'er the palace flown, 
 
 I heard it told yestreen. 
 The king loves Marie Hamilton 
 
 TVIair than he loves his queen. — 
 A sad word o'er the palace flew, 
 
 A sad word on the morrow, — 
 O Marie Hamilton's born a babe. 
 
 And slain it in her sorrow ! 
 
 Rise up now, Marie, said the queen, 
 
 Rise up, and come wi' me, 
 For we maun ride to Holyrood, 
 
 A gay wedding to see. 
 The queen was drest in scarlet flne. 
 
 Her maidens all in green, 
 And every town that they rode throjugh 
 
 Took Marie for the queen.
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 349 
 
 But little wist Marie Hamilton, 
 
 As she rode o'er the lea, 
 That she was gaun to Edinbro' town. 
 
 Her doom to hear and dree : 
 When she came to the Netherbow-port, 
 
 She laughed loud laughters three ; 
 But when she reached the gallows' foot, 
 
 The tears blinded her ee. 
 
 O often have I dress'd my queen. 
 
 And put gold in her hair — 
 The gallows tree is my reward, 
 
 And shame maun be my share ! 
 
 often have I dress'd my queen, 
 And soft, soft made her bed — 
 
 And now I've got for my reward 
 The gallows' tree to tread ! 
 
 1 charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 When ye sail o'er the faem. 
 Let neither my father nor mother know. 
 
 But that I 'm coming hame : 
 I charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 That sail upon the sea. 
 Let neither my father nor mother know 
 
 The death that I maun die ! 
 
 O little did my mother ken. 
 The day she cradled me.
 
 S50 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 The lands I was to travel in. 
 
 Or the death I was to die ! 
 Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 
 
 The night she'll have but three; 
 There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, 
 
 And Mary Carmichael and me. 
 
 Of the Marie Hamilton which this song mentions as 
 one of the maids of honour to Mary, queen of Scotland, 
 history has taken no heed; and the history of that 
 period is too accurate and minute to have passed un- 
 noticed the sin and the tragic close of the life of a court 
 beauty. It is true that a FrenchAvoman sinned and 
 suffered in this manner, but she was not one of the 
 " Queen's Maries ;" and I would more willingly believe 
 that the song alludes to the crime and punishment of 
 miss Hamilton, one of the maids of honour to the em- 
 press Catherine of Russia. She had murdered her ille- 
 gitimate children, and was beheaded. Peter, the em- 
 peror, attended her on the scaffold, embraced her with 
 the utmost tenderness, and when the head was struck 
 off, he took it up and kissed the lips while they yet 
 trembled with life. 
 
 From John Knox, who spares neither rich nor poor, 
 lofty nor low, we learn that the maids of honour to queen 
 Mary set no example of chastity to their unfortunate 
 mistress, and it would be unjust to her " Maries" to say 
 that the queen was a spotless example to them. After 
 describing the sin and punishment of the French follower
 
 SCOTTISH SONGS. 851 
 
 of Queen Mary, the apostle proceeds : " But yet was not 
 the court purged of whores and whoredoms, which was 
 the fountain of such enormities ; for it is well knowTi 
 that shame hasted marriage betwixt John Sempill, called 
 the Dancer, and Mary Levingstone, surnamed the Lusty. 
 What bruit the Maries and the rest of the dancers of 
 the court had, the ballads of that age do witness, which 
 we, for modesty's sake, omit ; but this was the common 
 complaint of all godly and wise men, that if they thought 
 such a court could long continue, and if they looked for 
 no better life to come, they would have wished their 
 sons and daughters rather to have been brought up with 
 fiddlers and dancers, and to have been exercised with. 
 flinging upon a floor, and in the rest that thereof follows, 
 than to have been exercised in the company of the godly 
 and exercised in virtue, which in that court was hated, 
 and filthiness not only maintained but also rewarded ; 
 witness the abbey of Abercorn and barony of Auchver- 
 muchty, and divers others pertaining to the patrimony 
 of the crown, given in heritage to skippers and dancers 
 and dalliers with dames." 
 
 In arranging this song .1 have omitted some verses 
 which were not necessary to the story nor remarkable 
 for their beauty. There is one verse, however, which 
 deserves to be noticed, and which has been quoted in 
 the preface of Mr. Finlay : 
 
 She wadna put on her gown of black. 
 Nor yet wad she of brovv'n,
 
 352 SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 But she wad put on her gown of gowd. 
 To glance through Embro' town : 
 
 O saddle me not the black, she says. 
 Nor saddle to me the brown. 
 
 But saddle to me my milk-white steed, 
 That I may ride in renown. 
 
 It ought to be mentioned, as an excuse for all this 
 bravery of appearance on the way to death, that she 
 blames her nurse for the murder of her child in a pre- 
 ceding verse, and resolves to die as one who was doomed 
 unjustly. The first four lines of the concluding verse 
 of the song have been quoted and praised by Burns. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 0.'^^^^" 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISOK, WHITEFRIAllS.
 
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