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perhaps puzzled and misled the noble poet. In his poem he renders the mistake incurable, where he sings of “ Balgonie's brig's black wall.”
THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE
By yon castle wa', at the close o' the day,
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
This very beautiful song is from the pen of Burns, inspired in some small degree by an old fragment of the same character and on the same subject. It first appeared in Johnson's Musical Museum. The last four lines of the first verse belong to the old fragment. The subdued and sedate sorrow of the old man's lamentation is very touching the love for his lost children, . and for his ancient line of kings, lends an interest national and domestic, which is not surpassed in any of the songs of that unhappy cause.
0, Derwentwater's a bonnie lord,
He wears gowd in his hair,
Wi' kind love dwelling there.
And loud loud could he ca',
And buckle, and come awa.
Our ladie held by her gude lord,
Wi' weel love-locket hands;
She loos'd the snawy bands.
And when young Derwentwater kneelid,
My gentle fair ladie !
In our gude ladie's e'e.
I will think me on this bonnie ring,
And on this snawy hand,
Comes down my burly brand.
Which ring thy bright blue een,
And owre my braid sword lean.
O never a word our ladie spake,
As he press'd her snawy hand;
As her jimpy waist he spann'd;
When his glowing lips she fand.
He has drapp'd frae his hand the tassel o' gowd
Which knots his gude weir-glove,
Come down, my fair ladie ;
The morning sun is hie.
gars our ladie love.
•1}} And high high raise the morning sun, 45°***:'
Wi' front o'ruddie blude: i 2011
109 Our ladie look'd frae the turret top
DATOI As lang as she could see ;
My out And every sigh for her gude lord,
For Derwent there were three.
I believe there is no traditional testimony to support the surmise of the poet, that the wife of one of the Jacobite chiefs had a criminal regard for the unfortunate Earl of Derwentwater. He was a young and brave and generous nobleman, and his fate was vehemently lamented in the north of England. The aurora borealis, which appeared then for the first time, and shone remarkably vivid on the night of his execution, is still known in the north by the name of Lord Derwentwater's lights. A very beautiful song is popularly known by the title of “ Lord Derwentwater's good night.”
And fare thee well, my
The last time I mounted thee :
My trouble’s nearly o'er ;
Shall rise on me no more.
Fifteen hundred braver mên never were led to battle than those whom Derwentwater conducted to Preston : but the senses of the leaders seemed bewildered and confounded, and they allowed themselves to be surrounded and manacled, and conducted to the axe and the gibbet without murmur or resistance.
AWA WHIGS, AWA.
Our thistles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonny bloom'd our roses,
Awa whigs, awa;
Ye'll ne'er do good at a'.
Our sad decay in church and state
Surpasses my descriving ;
And we have done wi' thriving.
A foreign whiggish loon brought seeds,
In Scottish yird to cover ;
And pack him to Hanover.