« PredošláPokračovať »
and we have the authority of no mean judge for saying that the poetical mantle of Sir Gilbert has descended to his family
It is among the last and best efforts of the Muse of the sheep-pipe and crook, and possesses more nature than commonly falls to the lot of those elegant and affected songs, which awake a Sicilian rather than a Scottish echo.
The old words, which were sung to the tune of “ My apron, dearie,” could hardly suggest so sweet and so
I will try to pick out a passable verse as a specimen of the old song, which bestowed a name on this popular air :
delicate a song.
O, had I ta'en counsel of father or mother,
My apron, deary, my apron now,
I am not even certain that these words, old as they are, and bearing the stamp of a ruder age, are the oldest which were sung to the air. I have heard a song of still ruder rhyme, and of equal freedom; and I think I can find as much of it as may enable the reader to judge, without deeply offending against de
Low, low down in yon meadow so green,
The conversation which ensues is too confidential for quotation.
MY DEARIE IF THOU DIE.
Love never more shall give me pain,
My fancy's fix'd on thee,
My Peggy, if thou die.
Thy love's so true to me,
My dearie if thou die.
If fate shall tear thee from my breast,
How shall I lonely stray:
In sighs, the silent day.
I ne'er can so much virtue find,
Nor such perfection see ;
My Peggy, after thee.
No new-blown beauty fires
Must all the world engage.
With Peggy let me die.
that smile on virtuous love,
Those charms so dear to me!
I'm lost if Peggy die.
When Crawford wrote these words, it is not certain that he knew more of the old song which gave
the to his own than the single line which has descended to the present times, “ My dearie an thou die.” Burns briefly remarks, “ Another beautiful song of Crawford's.” Cupid might have been spared from the third verse, and the flames of love from the fourth: but he was
no regular dealer in darts and flames, like the poets of his time-his failings were more in the pastoral way, and we have few lyrics
a purer or more natural or more graceful character, than those which he composed.
FOR EVER, FORTUNE, WILT THOU PROVE.
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
But busy busy still art thou
This beautiful complaint against the caprice of fortune
was written by James Thomson ; and the name by which it is commonly known is “Logan Water," though neither by allusion nor circumstance can such locality be claimed for it. The last four lines of the first verse, and the first four lines of the second, contain all that can be urged concerning the disappointment of youthful affection ; and many a heart will respond to their pathetic complaint. This song first appeared united to the air of “ Logan Water," in the Orpheus Caledonius in 1725.
MY LOVE ANNIE'S VERY BONNIE.
What pumbers shall the Muse repeat?
What verse be found to praise my Annie?
Each swain admires, and owns she's bonnie.
She sets each youthful heart on fire;
That Annie kindles new desire.
This lovely darling, dearest care,
This new delight, this charming Annie,
When Flora's fragrant breezes fan ye.