Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

II.

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, "Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,

Since my last hope and last comfort is gone! Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,

Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

["Clarinda inspired these verses, and they are worthy of her merits, personal and mental. To his parting with that lady the Bard often recurred; in truth, he left Edinburgh with great reluctance; there he had pleased society, and there only could he hope for 'pension, post, or place.' When he quitted it he knew he was going to the stilts of the plough, and experience told him how little he could hope from niggardly economy and sharp bargaining. He was one of nature's gentlemen, and unfit for the details of the market, the couping of horses, and the keen and eager contest carried on between seller and buyer. An old peasant once said of him that he was owre kindhearted to be prosperous,' and added, 'he was ane of them that carry their corn to a falling market, and sell their hens on a rainy day! To this impediment in the way to wealth, he repeatedly alludes in his letters-no man ever knew himself better-all fell out in his own history as he feared it would."-CUNNINGHAM.]

My Lady's Gown, there's Gairs upon't.

Tune-Gregg's Pipes.

CHORUS.

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.

I.

My lord a-hunting he is gane,
But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane;
By Colin's cottage lies his game,
If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

II.

My lady's white, my lady's red,
And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude;
But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
Were a' the charms his lordship lo’ed.

III.

Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,
Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,
A lily in a wilderness.

IV.

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,
Like music-notes o' lovers' hymns:
The diamond dew in her een sac blue,
Where laughing love sae wanton swims.

V.

My lady's dink, my lady 's drest,
The flower and fancy o' the west;
But the lassie that a man lo'es best,
O that's the lass to mak' him blest.

My lady's gown, there 's gairs upon't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,

My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.

The air

[The idea of this song is believed to be old, and some of the words also; most of it, however, is the workmanship of Burns. to which it was written was the composition of James Gregg, a musician belonging to Ayr-shire, whose memory still lives in the west as an improver of the telescope, a mechanist, and a painter. He is still more pleasantly remembered by this tune, which is often called for when the dancers are on the floor

"And all goes merry as a marriage bell."]

Amang the Trees where humming Bees.

Tune-The King of France, he rode a Race. *

I.

AMANG the trees, where humming bees At buds and flowers were hinging, O, Auld Caledon drew out her drone,

And to her pipe was singing, O; 'Twas pibroch, sang, strathspey, or reels, She dirl❜d them aff fu' clearly, O, When there cam a yell o' foreign squeels, That dang her tapsalteerie, O.

II.

Their capon craws and queer ha ha's,

They made our lugs grow eerie, O; The hungry bike did scrape and pike, "Till we were wae and weary, O; But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd A prisoner aughteen year awa, He fir'd a fiddler in the north

That dang them tapsalteerie, O.

["Ritson says, when he was in Italy he was much interested by the chants sung by friars or priests; they bore some resemblance to the elder

*The following is the commencement of this old song:

The King o' France he rade a race,
Out o'er the hills o' Seiry, O;
His eldest son has followed him
Upon a good grey meary, O!

Scottish melodies. This resemblance has been noticed by some of our northern authorities, who surmise that Caledonia supplied Italy with many of her most exquisite melodies. This seems as well-founded as the legend that David Rizzio brought the best Scottish airs from Italy -a story that offends our Welch musicians, who declare that David's surname was Rice, not Rizzio, and that the airs with which he charmed the Queen of Scotland were genuine Welch ! "It has been thought that Burns had all that in his mind when he wrote this song: it seems quite as likely that he alludes to the influx of Italian music by operas and oratorios; and that the fiddler of the north, who was animated by the spirit of the royal poet and musician, was honest Neil Gow, whose vigorous genius maintained the glory of our national music in spite

of

'Their capon craws, and queer ha ha's!'"'

CUNNINGHAM.]

The gowden Locks of Anna.

Tune-Banks of Banna.

I.

YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na';
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness,
Rejoicing o'er his manna,
Was naething to my hinny bliss
Upon the lips of Anna."

II.

Ye monarchs tak' the east and west,
Frae Indus to Savannah!
Gi'e me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna.
There I'll despise imperial charms,
An empress or sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms
I give and take with Anna!

III.

Awa', thou flaunting god o' day!
Awa', thou pale Diana!
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I'm to meet my Anna.
Come, in thy raven plumage, night!
Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a';
And bring an angel pen to write
My transports wi' my Anna!

POSTSCRIPT.

IV.

The Kirk and State may join, and tell To do such things I maunna :

The Kirk and State may gae to h—ll,
And I'll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine o' my e'e,—
To live but her I canna;
Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.

[A Dumfries maiden, with a light foot and a merry eye, was the heroine of this clever song. Burns thought so well of it himself that he recommended it as one of his best to Thomson; but the latter, aware, perhaps, of the free character of her of the gowden locks, was unwilto the charms of ladies of high degree and unling to give her a place among lyrics dedicated blemished reputation, and therefore excluded it, though pressed to publish it by the Poet. Imritated, perhaps, at Thomson's refusal, he wrote the additional Stanza, by way of Postscript, in defiance of his colder blooded critic. To those who are curious in such matters, it may be told that Anna's locks were sunny rather than golden, and that she was a handmaid at an inn, and accounted beautiful by the customers when wine made them tolerant in matters of taste.]

wat pe what my Minnie did.

O WAT ye what my minnie did,

My minnie did, my minnie did, O wat ye what my minnie did, On Tysday 'teen to me, jo? She laid me in a saft bed,

A saft bed, a saft bed,
She laid me in a saft bed,
And bade gude'en to me, jo.

II.

An' wat ye what the parson did,

The parson did, the parson did, An' wat ye what the parson did,

A' for a penny fee, jo?
He loos'd on me a lang man,

A mickle man, a strang man, He loos'd on me a lang man, That might hae worried me, jo.

III.

An' I was but a young thing,
A young thing, a young thing,
An' I was but a young thing,
Wi' nane to pity me, jo.

I wat the kirk was in the wyte,
In the wyte, in the wyte,
To pit a young thing in a fright,
An' loose a man on me, jo.

* Without.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

I'll count my health my greatest wealth,

Sae long as I'll enjoy it :

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

IV.

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And aye until ye try them :

Tho' they seem fair, still have a care,
They may prove waur than I am.

But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright,

My dear, I'll come and see thee;

For the man that lo'es his mistress weel
Nae travel makes him weary.

[This was a song of the Poet's youthful days; he trimmed it up a little for the Museum, and adapted it to the beautiful Strathspey tune called "Laggan Burn." There is more of the man in his early verses, and more sentiment in his later ones. In the manuscript of the music, there is the following note to Johnson in the hand-writing of Clarke:

"This song must have a verse more or a verse less. The music intended for it was so miserably bad that I rejected it; but luckily there was a tune called Laggan Burn' on the opposite side, which will answer very well by adding a verse, or curtailing one. I know that Burns will rather do the former than the latter.—

[P.S. When I wrote the above, I did not observe that there was another verse on the opposite page."]

The Farewell.

Tune-It was a' for our rightfu' King.

I.

It was a' for our rightfu' king,
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' king

We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.

II.

Now a' is done that men can do,

And a' is done in vain;

My love and native land farewell,

For I maun cross the main, my dear,
For I maun cross the main.

III.

He turned him right, and round about,
Upon the Irish shore;
And gae his bridle-reins a shake,
With adieu for evermore, my dear,
With adieu for evermore.

IV.

The sodger frae the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main;
But I hae parted frae my love,
Never to meet again, my dear,
Never to meet again.

432

THE SONGS AND BALLADS OF BURNS.

V.

When day is gane, and night is come,

And a' folk bound to sleep; I think on him that's far awa',

The lee-lang night, and weep, my dear, The lee-lang night, and weep.*

[Hogg, in his notes to the Jacobite Reliques, says this song was written by Captain Ogilvie, who was killed on the banks of the Rhine, in the year 1695. Sir Walter Scott, in the last edition of his works, refers to his beautiful song, 66 A weary lot is thine," in the third canto of Rokeby, and says "The last verse is taken from the fragment of an old Scottish ballad, of which I only recollected two verses when the first edition of Rokeby was published. Mr. Thomas Sheridan kindly pointed out to me an entire copy of this beautiful song, which seems to express the fortunes of some follower of the Stuart family." The song, as copied by Scott, is nearly word for word with that of Burns in the fifth volume of the Musical Museum: it is, nevertheless, probable that the Poet rather beautified or amended some ancient strain which he had discovered than wrote it wholly from his own heart and fancy.-CUNNINGHAM.]

O steer her up.

Tune-O steer her up, and haud her gaun.

I.

O STEER her up and haud her gaun-
Her mither's at the mill, jo;

An' gin she winna tak' a man,
E'en let her tak' her will, jo:

*We here subjoin part of the old song which was the prototype of the above.

The cold winter it is past and gone,
And now comes on the spring,

And I am one the king's life-guards,

And I must go fight for my king, my dear;
And I must go fight for my king,

Now since to the wars you must go,
One thing I pray grant me,
It's I will dress myself in man's attire,
And I'll travel along with thee, my dear,
And I'll travel along with thee.

I would not for ten thousand worlds
That my love endanger'd were so;
The rattling of drums and shining of swords,
Will cause great sorrow and wo, my dear,
Will cause great sorrow and wo.

I will do more for my true love
Than he will do for me;

I'll cut my hair and roll me bare,

And mourn till the day I die, my dear,
And mourn till the day I die.

So farewell mother and father dear,

My kith and kin also,

My sweet and bonny Mally Stewart,

You're the cause of all my wo, my dear,
You're the cause of all my wo.

First shore her wi' a kindly kiss,

And ca' anither gill, jo, And gin she tak' the thing amiss, E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.

II.

O steer her up, and be na blate,
An' gin she tak' it ill, jo,
Then lea'e the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo;
That gin the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll fin' anither will, jo.

[Allan Ramsay found a wild old song of this name and measure, and, adopting the first four lines, penned a drinking ditty, which may be found in the Tea Table Miscellany. The second verse will be sample sufficient:

"See that shining glass of claret,

How invitingly it looks;

Take it aff, and let's hae mair o't

Pox on fighting, trade, and books:
Let's have pleasure while we're able,
Bring us in the mickle bowl;
Place't on the middle o' the table,
And let wind and weather yowl."

Burns took the first four lines of the old strain, and eked them out in his own way.]

ape my Wife she dang me.

Tune-My wife she dang me.t

I.

O AYE my wife she dang me, An' aft my wife did bang me,

She took the slippers off her feet,
And the cockups off her hair;
And she has ta'en a long journey,

For seven lang years and mair, my dear,
For seven lang years and mair.
Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,
Sometimes sat down to mourn,

And it was aye the o'ercome o' her tale,
Shall I e'er see my bonnie laddie return, my dear,
Shall I e'er see my bonny laddie return.
The trooper turn'd himself round about,
All on the Irish shore;

He has given the bridle reins a shake,
Saying adieu for evermore, my dear,
Saying adieu for evermore.

When Burns wrote the above humorous lyric, he had probably in his recollection the old words to which the air

was originally united.

I was twenty years a bachelor,
And lived a single life;

But I never could contented be,

Until I got a wife.

But I hadna lang married been

Till she began to bang me,

And ne'er dang out my very een, And sware she would gae hang me.

Ae day I at a wedding was,

And dancing on the green;

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

"The bonnie lass o' Livingstone,
Is fair to see, is fair to see;
With what a light look and a loup,
She came to me, she came to me.
She has a black and a rolling e'e,

An' a dimplit chin, an' a dimplit chin;
An' no to taste her rosy lips
Wad be a sin, wad be a sin."]

wha is she that lo'es me.

Tune-Morag.

I.

O WHA is she that lo'es me,
And has my heart a-keeping?
O sweet is she that lo'es me,

As dews o' simmer weeping,
In tears the rose-buds steeping!

CHORUS.

O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;
O that's the queen of womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.

II.

If thou shalt meet a lassie,

In grace and beauty charming, That e'en thy chosen lassie, Erewhile thy breast sae warming, Had ne'er sic powers alarming; O that's, &c.

III.

If thou hadst heard her talking,
And thy attentions plighted,
That ilka body talking,

But her by thee is slighted,
And thou art all delighted;
O that's, &c.

IV.

If thou hast met this fair one;
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other fair one,

But her, thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted;
O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;
O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.

But I soon tipped her the wink,

And said, nae mair ye'se bang me,

I'll drink nae mair o' your sour drink For fear at last ye hang me.

ib.

[VAR. The Robin came to the Wren's nest.-Poet's MS. Of earth and air, of earth and air. [VAR. In a copy of this song in Burns's handwriting, the first line reads thus:

O wat ye wha that lo'es me. which agrees with the version in Thomson's collection.]

« PredošláPokračovať »