A matchless shape, a graceful mien, All centre in my Highland Queen. THE HIGHLAND KING. Would once the dearest boy but say Bess the Gawkie. THIS song shews that the Scottish Muses did not all leave us when we lost Ramsay and Oswald; as I have good reason to believe that the verses and music are both posterior to the days of these two gentlemen. It is a beautiful song, and in the genuine Scots taste. We have few pastoral compositions, I mean the pastoral of nature, that are equal to this. [The Author of this song was the Rev. James Morehead, the minister of Urr, in Galloway: he was a maker of verses, and, falling under the lash of Burns, avenged himself by some satiric lines which have much ill nature but no wit. He died in 1808. The song of Bess the Gawkie gives a lively image of the northern manners. -RITSON.] BLYTHE young Bess to Jean did say, For he's taen up wi' Maggy! Out o'er the muir to Maggy? But whisht!-nae mair of this we'll speak, * Oswald was a music-seller in London, where he published a collection of Scottish tunes, called "The Caledonian's Pocket Companion;" Tytler, in his treatise on music, observes that his genius in composition was sound, and his taste in the performance of Scottish music was natural and pathetic. + [In this sweeping assertion Burns is somewhat mistaken; "Johnnie Faa, or the Gipsy Laddie," "The Lowlands of Holland," "Lord James Douglas," "The Western Tragedy, O dear Bess, I hardly knew, The lasses fast frae him they flew, Or yet ca'd Bess a gawkie. Oh, open the Door, Lord Gregory. IT is somewhat singular that in Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton, Kirkcudbright, 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 these very few; as the ballad, which is a long one, is called, both by tradition and in printed collections, "The Lass of Lochroyan," which I take to be Lochroyan in Galloway.† [This is a very ancient Gallowegian melody. The two verses adapted to the air, in the Museum, were compiled from the fine old ballad entitled "The Lass of Lochroyan," which was first published in a perfect state by Sir Walter Scott in his Minstrelsy of the Border. They are as follow:: Он, open the door, Lord Gregory, The wind blows thro' my yellow hair, Ah, wae be to you, Gregory! Án ill death may you die; You will not be the death of one, But you'll be the death of three. Oh, don't you mind, Lord Gregory? 'Twas down at yonder burn side We chang'd the ring off our fingers, And I put mine on thine.] or the False Sir John," otherwise called "May Collean,' "The Young Laird Ochiltrie," "Johnnie Armstrong," "Lady Bothwell's Lament," "O Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair," with many other old traditionary ballads, are all locally identified with one or other of these proscribed counties. Burns is right in his supposition of the ballad now mentioned referring to Loch Ryan in Galloway. The idea of Burns's "Lord Gregory" is obviously taken from this fine old ballad.-MOTHERWELL.] The Banks of the Tweed. THIS song is one of the many attempts that English composers have made to imitate the Scottish manner, and which I shall, in these strictures, beg leave to distinguish by the appellation of Anglo-Scottish productions. The music is pretty good, but the verses are just above contempt. [The song has the form of a pastoral drama: a shepherdess sings of the object of her love: the swain hears, and is enraptured :-the strain concludes with the following verse :— For to visit my ewes, and to see my lambs play, By the banks of the Tweed and the groves I did stray; [sigh'd, But my Jenny, dear Jenny, how oft have I And have vow'd endless love if you would be my bride. To the altar of Hymen, my fair one, repair, Where a knot of affection shall tie the fond pair, To the pipe's sprightly notes the gay dance will we lead, [the Tweed. And will bless the dear grove by the banks of The air was very popular at one time in Scotland; and Johnson, at the request of several of his subscribers, was induced to give it an early place in his work. The greater part of the first volume of the Museum was engraved before Burns and Johnson became acquainted.] leaving Kyle, united herself to the household of that singular fanatic. The Poet, it is said, spent a whole day and night in an attempt to persuade the fair enthusiast to return: she preferred the multitude, and Burns returned to his plough and his poetry."-CUNNINGHAM.] as follows:- As I was a walking one morning in May, Down among the beds of sweet roses, [play, Where I and my true love did often sport and Down among the beds of sweet roses." My daddy and my mammy I oft have heard them say, That I was a naughty boy, and did often sport and play; [was shy. But I never liked in all my life a maiden that Down among the beds of sweet roses.] Roslin Castle. THESE beautiful verses were the production of a Richard Hewit, a young man that Dr. Blacklock (to whom I am indebted for the anecdote) kept for some years as an amanuensis.† I do not know who is the author of the second song to the same tune. Tytler, in his amusing history of Scottish music, gives the air to Oswald; but in Oswald's own collection of Scots tunes, when he affixes an asterisk to those be himself composed, he does not make the least claim to the tune. [Oswald was not the composer of the air of Roslin Castle. The same tune, note for note, appears in a prior publication-M'Gibbon's collection of Scots tunes, under the title of "House of Glams." The words of both the songs to this air appeared in Herd's Collection, printed in 1776. We subjoin them both :-- ROSLIN CASTLE. 'Twas in that season of the year, When all things gay and sweet appear, That Colin, with the morning ray, Arose and sung his rural lay. "Alluding," as it said in a note, "to a sort of narrative songs, which make no inconsiderable part of the innocent amusements with which the country people pass the wintry nights, and of which the author of the present piece was a faithful rehearser." Henry Mackenzie, in his edition of Blacklock's Poems, Edinburgh, 1793, informs us that Hewit subsequently be came Secretary to Lord Milton (then Lord Justice Clerk, and Sub-Minister for Scotland, under the Duke of Argyle); but 川 that the fatigue of that station hurt his health, and he died in 1794.] Of Nanny's charms the shepherd sung, The hills and dales with Nanny rung; While Roslin Castle heard the swain, And echo'd back the cheerful strain. Awake, sweet Muse! the breathing spring O, hark, my love! on ev'ry spray SECOND VERSION. FROM Roslin Castle's echoing walls, No longer can my heart conceal Where lurks my songster? from what grove my Ye vocal hills, that catch the song, To Colin's ears my strain convey, O! come, my love! thy Colin's lay And charm this ravish'd breast of mine! Saw ye Johnnie cummin? quo' she. THIS Song, for genuine humour in the verses, and lively originality in the air, is unparalleled. I take it to be very old. [This observation had been hastily made, for the air, either when played or sung slowly, as it ought to be, is exceedingly pathetic, not lively. Burns afterwards became sensible of this, for in his letter to Thomson (No. XLII.) he says, "I enclose you Fraser's set of this tune; when he plays it slow, in fact, he makes it the language of despair. Were it possible in singing, to give it half the pathos which Fraser gives it in playing, it would make an admirable pathetic song.' Mr. Thomas Fraser, to whom Burns alludes, was an intimate acquaintance of the Poet, and an excellent musician. In 1820, he was the principal oboe concerto player in Edinburgh, of which city he was a native. His style of playing the melodies of Scotland was peculiarly chaste and masterly. He died in 1825. The song in the Museum is as follows: "SAW ye Johnnie cummin? quo' she, O saw ye Johnnie cummin, quo', she; And his doggie runnin', quo' she; Fee him, father, fee him, quo' she; And a weel doin'; And a' the wark about the house What will I do wi' him, hussy? What will I do wi' him? And I hae nane to gie him. Dinna stand wi' him, quo' she; For weel do I lo'e him, quo' she: O fee him, father, fee him, quo' she; He'll haud the pleugh, thrash i' the barn, Clout the Caldron. A TRADITION is mentioned in the "Bee," that the second Bishop Chisholm, of Dunblane, Saw pe nae my Peggy? THIS charming song is much older, and indeed superior to Ramsay's verses, "The Toast," as he calls them. There is another set of the words, much older still, and which I take to be the original one, but though it has a very great deal of merit, it is not quite ladies' reading. The original words, for they can scarcely be called verses, seem to be as follows; a song familiar from the cradle to every Scottish ear. "SAW ye my Maggie, Saw ye my Maggie, Saw ye my Maggie Linkin o'er the lea? High kilted was she, Her coat aboon her knee. What mark has your Maggie, That ane may ken her be? (by.)** Though it by no means follows that the silliest verses to an air must, for that reason, be the original song; yet I take this ballad, of which I have quoted part, to be the old verses The two songs in Ramsay, one of them evidently his own, are never to be met with in the fire-side circle of our peasantry; while that which I take to be the old song, is in every shepherd's mouth. Ramsay, I had suppose, thought the old verses unworthy of a place in his collection. Who would leave a lover, Till I happy be! The Flowers of Edinburgh. THIS song is one of the many effusions of Scots Jacobitism. The title "Flowers of Edin [The grounds our poet had for conjecturing that this song was a Jacobite effusion, do not appear to be sufficiently plain. No such song as the one alluded to is known to exist. Subsequent to the year 1745, indeed, there was a Jacobite ballad, which was frequently sung to this air, beginning :— To your arms, to your arms, my bonnie Highland lads! To your arms, to your arms, at the touk o' the drum! The battle-trumpet sounds, put on your white cockades, For Charlie, the great Prince Regent, is come. But this ballad, which appears in Hogg's Jacobite Reliques, has no allusion whatever to The Flowers of Edinburgh. It seems more likely that the composer had given it the name in compliment to the young ladies of the Scottish metropolis, who were then attending the dancing schools. Burns further remarks, that "it is singular enough that the Scottish muses were all Jacobites." But there are many songs composed in Scotland, at the time, directly opposed to Jacobitism. The following loyal song, composed for the use of the Revolution Club, part of which was afterwards printed at Edinburgh, by Donaldson and Reid, in 1761, may not be unacceptable to the reader : HIGHLAND LADDIE. 1. WHEN you came over first frae France, To mak' the Duke dance o'er the sword, 11. When he to you began to play, 111. Your partners that came o'er frae France, Unto our Duke they bow'd right low, burgh," has no manner of connexion with the present verses, so I suspect there has been an older set of words, of which the title is all that remains. By the bye, it is singular enough that the Scottish Muses were all Jacobites. I have paid more attention to every description of Scots songs than perhaps any body living has done, and I do not recollect one single stanza, or even the title of the most trifling Scots air, which has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau or Brunswick; while there are hundreds satirizing them. This may be thought no panegyric on the Scots Poets, but I mean it as such. For myself, I would always take it as a compliment to have it said that my heart ran before my head; † and surely the gallant though unfortunate house of Stuart, the kings of our fathers for so many heroic ages, is a theme much more interesting than * [Some one passed a pen through the remain IV. If e'er you come to dance again, v. I think insurance you should make, VI. For dancing you were never made, Bonny laddie, Highland laddie.Ĵ t["Poor Burns!--Thy heart indeed ran always before thy head; but never didst thou fail to carry thy reader's heart along with thee. Instead of kindling at the indignities offered to thy native land, hadst thou been a wise and a prudent poet, thou wouldst have tuned thy lyre to the praise of some powerful family, and carefully abstained from drawing on thy head the resentment of the guilty great, or their descendants. Thou mightest then have rolled in affluence, and ceased to struggle under the insulting taunts of every little upstart in office. Thou mightest have flourished in thy day, and left behind thee an offspring securely treading the path of honours and preferment, instead of leaving thy wife and children poor and pennyless, at the mercy of the world.All this thou mightest have done; but then thou wouldst not have been a poet.-I do not mean to say that poetry and prudence are altogether incompatible; but that prudence which would stifle the feelings which should glow in every manly bosom, can never exist with true and genuine poetry. The prudence that would suppress the indignant strain of a Campbell at the horrors of Warsaw, or see unmoved the smoking villages and unhallowed butchery which followed in the train of Culloden, the unsophisticated muse will ever disdain. He can never be a poet who does not feel as a man."-CROMEK.] * Cardinal York, brother of Charles, and second son of James, denominated the "Pretender." |