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This is one of the many lyric effusions with which the adherents of the house of Stuart sought to preserve the national love for their ancient line of Princes. It is however somewhat amended by Burns, and some sense has been infused into the chorus. In Hogg's “ Jacobite Relics” another verse is added, which takes the song from the lips of a soldier and gives it to those of a lady. I think the general feeling is in favour of the former; though we have President Forbes's testimony to the violent love of the ladies for the exiled princes, and the assurance of Ray that they would listen to no manner of reason, but were Jacobites one and all. I have retained the original version.
LASSIE, LIE NEAR ME.
Lang ha’e we parted been,
Lassie, my dearie ;
Lassie, lie near me;
Lassie, lic near me.
Frae dread Culloden's field,
Bloody and dreary,
Lanely and weary;
Loud, loud the wind did roar,
Stormy and eerie,
Dangers stood near me;
Lassie, lie near me.
A' that I ha'e endur'd,
Lassie, my dearie,
Lassie, lie near me ;
Lassie, lie near me.
The original of this very pretty song was purely domestic-an infusion of Jacobite feeling seems not to have injured either its tenderness or its simplicity. We have, however, many varieties of the song. Some fastidious persons,
who believe that a man never addresses his wife by any familiar name, have substituted “ Wifie, lie near me;" others, again, supposed they had amended the imaginary indecorum by singing “ Laddie, lie near me.” If I am called on to confess my own belief in this matter, I must say that men both of the north and south are in the practice of bestowing familiar and endearing names on their wives, and that I see in the hero and heroine of this song a wedded pair, who, separated by misfortune, had met again in mutual and overflowing joy.
Hersell pe highland shentleman,
Pe auld as Pothwell Prig, man ;
Amang the lawland whig, man.
Nainsell was droving cows, man,
About the preeks or trews, man.
Nainsell did wear the philabeg,
The plaid pricked on her shouder;
Her pistol charged with powder.
But cúrse upon these Saxon preeks,
In which her limbs are lockit ; Ohon that ere she saw the day !
For a' her houghs pe prokit.
Every thing in the highlands now
Pe turned to alteration ;
And tats a great vexation.
The laws pring in de cadger ; Nainsell wad durk him for his deeds,
But oh, she fears te sodger.
Anither law came after tat,
Me never saw te like, man;
And ca’ him Turnimspike, man:
Like Loudon corn riggs, man ; Where twa carts may gang on her,
And no preak ither’s legs, man.
They charge a penny for ilka horse,
In troth she'll no be sheaper,
And they gi’e me a paper.
man ; She tells them she had seen the day
They had nae sic command, man.
Nae doubt nainsell maun draw her purse,
him what him like, man;
That filthy turnimspike, man.
Where deil a ane dare turn her,
Save when she comes to purn her.
The humour of this lowland ditty lies not altogether in the comic style of the highlander: there is considerable naïveté in his complaint against the innovation of good roads and turnpike-gates, and still more in his wrath against that injurious and insulting but ludicrous act of Parliament which imprisoned him in lowland breeches. I am no admirer of songs which seek to excite laughter by the imperfections of language; and I shall insert no more of those ditties which show up a highlander floundering along in the mysterious humour of broken English